Esmeralda scanned the bustling throng of excited patrons, searching for someone in need of her services. Her heart gave a little squeeze. The carnival had stopped only a town away from Río Norte. The city where she’d grown up, the city that had sharpened that very heart into the prickly thing it was now.
Her only comfort was knowing she wouldn’t be recognized behind her costume. Hopefully, she wouldn’t recognize anyone in return. She couldn’t handle seeing certain people from her past.Especiallyif they were enjoying themselves. Her nose scrunched up beneath her porcelain dove mask at the mere thought.
But she knew she’d never seehimhere.
People learned Carnival Fantástico was coming to their town just hours before the train arrived. Bell-shaped flowers showed up first, fluttering onto the doorsteps of mansions andpenthouses. Then the carnival’s flyers would appear and plaster themselves onto lantern posts and building walls and town square monuments. Only those who were starved for enchantments and excitement shoved the monotony they faced to the side and purchased tickets so they could be lost for the night.
Hehad never had a strong taste for fun nor freedom.Hewould never be caught dead in a place known for wayward enchantments.
Two young women giggled as they scampered by. They danced and skipped to the music thumping throughout the carnival. The melody was joyfully haunting and played over and over all night, only stopping when the sun rose and the last guest exited beneath the twinkling marquee. There was no band, no maestro to keep the bouncing tune in tempo. The music was simply there, sewn into the fabric of the circus tents and within the floorboards of the wagons.
Ángel Veracruz’s Carnival Fantástico wasn’t the typical traveling circus. It was alive.
Once the stars shone bright in the night sky, the carnival stirred. The young and young at heart poured in at every stop within the sprawling country of Costa Mayor to witness its sparkling magic, spending whatever money they earned or begged for or took just for a few hours of pleasure and a chance to forget about their humdrum lives.
Meanwhile, life before joining the carnival had been far from dull for Esmeralda. So much so that she often fantasized about what sort of girl she would have been if she had grown up with doting parents, or simply parents that didn’t betray herthe first chance they could. She might have been a teacher. Or a seamstress. Or a dancer. Instead, she became a liar.
At least she was a good one.
The two young women she had spotted stopped before a floss joint. The sapphire-colored booth sold cotton candy that tasted different with every bite. After paying a few silver bits, the taller of the two girls, who was dressed as an angelfish, tore off a piece of the sugary floss and stuffed it into her mouth. Her face contorted with disgust. “Pickled eggs,” she complained.
The girl with her, sporting a swordfish costume, laughed. “Let me try!” She snagged a portion. Tasted it. She gasped. “Cream pie!” She giggled as she placed the remainder of the floss on top the angelfish’s awaiting tongue.
“Easy marks,” Esmeralda said to herself.
They were clearly in love, judging by the way they gazed into each other’s eyes, but they wore no courting pins on their costumes. No rings on their fingers. Perhaps their relationship was in a limbo and needed a little coaxing.
“Perfect,” Esmeralda whispered.
She slipped from her hiding spot. Stuffing her mass of black curls into the hood of her cloak, she stepped into the chaos of the carnival. There wasn’t a square inch of empty space; the ticket agent never turned anyone away. Grinning brightly, Esmeralda dipped and slinked through the throng with ease, all the while keeping her eyes locked on the two young women devouring their treat.
When Esmeralda neared them, she pulled out two cards.They were crafted from the prettiest purple cardstock, but it was the kaleidoscopic ink that made them truly exceptional.
Because just like the carnival, the ink was alive.
Bell-shaped flowers had been drawn onto the back of every card in the deck along with her stage name—La Paloma Blanca: Fortune Teller Extraordinaire. The flowers fluttered and swayed. Fat-bottomed bumblebees whizzed on and off the card. Sometimes, Esmeralda swore she smelled something like jasmine emanating from the blooms themselves.
She flicked a card over. The illustrations on the front shifted from stars and the planets to laughing faces to birds in flight. They would continue to transform until a person pressed their fingertips to the iridescent ink. Once touched, the ink formed into a depiction of the person’s deepest hopes and dreams.
Using the enchanted cards made being a fortune teller rather easy. All Esmeralda had to do was try her best to interpret what the pictures meant while putting on a great show for her customers.
Whenshe had customers.
People weren’t often eager to hear their future when they had an entire carnival filled with magic to experience in the present. So, Esmeralda had to take matters into her own hands. She had to go out and find people who looked like they might be stuck in their past or need a push into something new.
Like two young women who required a gentle nudge towardlove.
She flicked the cards in the air and watched with greedyanticipation as they fluttered toward the girls. The lustrous ink shimmered like fish scales underwater. When the cards stuck into the remaining cotton candy and the pair gasped, Esmeralda smirked.
The girl dressed as an angelfish plucked one out and read aloud the inscription. “La Paloma Blanca: Fortune Teller Extraordinaire.” She shrugged. “I’ve never heard of her.”
Esmeralda’s smirk fell flat.
The girl flipped the card over. “It’s a drawing of two fishes swimming in the sea. And look! Their wake makes a heart. That’s…rather romantic.” She blushed. “What do you say? Want to have our fortunes told?”
The other girl nodded emphatically. “Yes, let’s!”
Esmeralda gave a tiny victory dance.
