She turned to Ignacio. “Why are you here? And be honest.”
“You once told me my father had a secret office.” He shifted his weight as if he were uncomfortable. She hoped he was. “I finally went inside it. I found flyers for Carnival Fantástico discarded in the rubbish bin.”
He stared at her as if she should know about this, but why on the king’s green earth would she know such a thing?
“Someone from within the carnival invited him here. They acted as if they knew him enough to call him by his first name. I’m looking for that author.”
“But Ángel said you were searching for me.” Realization doused her like icy water. “You can’t possibly think I wrote to your father.”
“You know him better than anyone.”
She held up her hand. “I’ll stop you right there. You and your father are the last people I’d wish to see or speak to again.”
He studied her for a long moment before looking away. “Ifit wasn’t you, then someone else is in communication with my father.”
If?There was noifabout it. Of course he’d never believe her, though. He never did when it came to anything about that man.But Ignacio was wrong. And no one within the carnival would reach out to Comandante Olivera. Most of the performers and circus hands were either wanted by the law, on the run from drafting agents, or trying to earn enough to pay off their loved ones’ debts so they’d be released from prison before they were sent to the front lines of war. Ángel was the only person who could offer them protection, and he was the only person willing to help them earn enough coin to get away.
But if Ignacio really thought someone was speaking to the comandante, then she would work with that. Because if she was going to pull off the glorious idea that just popped into her brain, she’d need someone like Ignacio to assist. Someone who had brute strength on their side.
“I can help you find this person.” When she saw his lips part with surprise, she added, “Afteryou help me.”
Ignacio scowled. “Why don’t you ask the ringmaster? Or your many lovers?”
“Because it is him”—she jerked her chin toward the direction Ángel had escaped to—“I’m trying to impress. Being a fortune teller is fine enough, but I need more.”
“You like it here, don’t you?” he asked quietly. “You want thislife?”
“I want what it can offer me. And if I don’t become the main act, I will only have two more months before my term is up.”
“And then where will you go? What will you do?”
The softness of his tone nearly pummeled her. It offered her a glimpse into their past. Into how he used to speak to her. He was once so gentle. Ignacio had treated Esmeralda like she was some sort of broken bird. She had needed that tenderness then.She needed someone to care for her, someone who offered her a safe space to lay out all the sharp shards of her heart so she could piece them back together again.
But Ignacio choosing his father over her had changed her. Those months spent in the cold cell his father had thrown her into had changed her too. She’d hardened herself. And she wouldn’t break so easily this time.
A few carnival hands walked by, pulling carts filled with outlandish novelty items.
Yes, she thought,that’s exactly what I need.
Her arm shot out, and she snatched a handful of bright blue whistles that sang like an operatic singer when blown.
“What was that?” Ignacio asked.
“What?” She held the whistles behind her back.
“Do not play coy. I saw you steal something from that basket. You’ve taken to thieving right out in the open, I see.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ignacio put his palm out. “Hand it over, Dovie. I’ll return whatever you took to its rightful place at once.”
“You’re absurd.”
He reached behind her, and she dodged him.
“Give it here.”
He lunged forward, gripped her shirt, and hauled her to him until her chest pressed against his. Esmeralda froze as the heat of his body melded with hers. His warm breath tickled her skin, reminding her of their first kiss. It had been sweet and filled with longing. And they had been standing exactly as they were right now.
