“What are you trying to sell him?” she asked, sauntering deeper into the tent to join them.
Jorge stepped forward excitedly. “Only the most perfect costume for your new beau. It’s going to match yours splendidly.”
She didn’t argue about the title Jorge had given him like Ignacio expected. Instead, she dug her fingers into her hair and pulled out a small pouch.
He almost laughed. She still kept her coins tucked away inside her curls.
“I’ll pay you five silvers for it,” she said, her expression uncharacteristically neutral.
“Fifteen,” Jorge countered.
“Six. You’re a genius designer and seamster. You can make these costumes in your sleep. And that bag has been hanging there since before you even got here.”
The tailor whispered to Ignacio, “Hell of a haggler, this one.” Jorge thrust his hand out. “Deal.”
Regret crossed her face as she placed the silvers into the tailor’s palm.
“Whatever is inside, it had better be good,” she said.
“Have I disappointed you yet, doll?” Jorge asked.
“Everyone does eventually.” She grabbed the garment bag and thrust it toward Ignacio before taking his wrist. Her bare skin against his made his insides flip. She tried to tug him toward the exit, but he wasn’t finished with Jorge yet.
“Wait.” He turned to face the tailor. But Jorge was gone. “What? How?”
“You’re in Carnival Fantástico, remember? People are always disappearing and reappearing, even if you don’t ask them to. Besides, Jorge is the biggest swindler of us all. He probably wasn’tgoing to tell you anything anyway. The man’s wanted up and down the coast, and not for nothing.”
Ignacio cursed.
“Anyway, I desperately need your help.”
“Again?”
“Don’t get cocky now.”
“Why should I help you when you didn’t even meet your end of the bargain after I helped you with the ostrich cage?”
“I told you me, Gabriel, and Ángel are innocent. Surely, that counts for something.”
His eyes narrowed. “The jury is still out on that.”
Irritation flashed over her features, but then she schooled them. She batted her lashes prettily and offered a beaming grin.
“What are you up to, Dovie?”
“You mean what areweup to.”
She pulled Ignacio through Clown Alley and into the Backyard—the backstage dressing area that butted up against the Big Top.
Music was thumping through the tent. The march of showstoppers was already starting.
Dozens of performers were lined up inside the cramped space that smelled of sweat and overly sweet perfume. Some performers jogged in place and stretched, readying to join in on the procession. A few people greased themselves down with oils that made their skin glisten. Some helped each other dress while gossiping about whatever had transpired that day.
A few stayed back. Paco the Fire Breather sat on the ground with his legs crossed. His eyes were closed, and he was chantingsomething under his breath. There were others lounging on settees. Ignacio recognized them as the other acts still competing in the Running.
They passed by performers sitting before lit-up mirrors applying ample amounts of makeup. These mirrors were nothing like the ones that winked down at him when he entered the Big Top or the ones that lined the interior walls of it. These appeared to simply be mirrors, thankfully.
“I need to tell you something, and you’re going to think it’s strange,” he said as he and Esmeralda entered a dressing room.
