Fuming, Ignacio yanked open a drawer, then stopped. Even in the dimly lit room, he recognized his father’s telltale penmanship. Every letter was capitalized and sharp.
Esmeralda must have recognized his father’s handwriting too. She snatched up the note. Her expression darkened.
“I have been lenient with your antics long enough,” she read.“Release my son to me unharmed or suffer the consequences.”Her brows pinched together. “Your father clearly knows you are here. But what does he think the ringmaster will do to you?”
“I have no clue. But this proves nothing of my father’s guilt. We must keep looking for something more damnable.”
The note only made his father seem caring, which was the furthest thing from the truth. He scooted around her to look at another stack of paper. His torso brushed against her back, and he swore he heard her draw in a sharp breath. He bumped into a small table he didn’t see in the dark because being within Dovie’s orbit made him clumsy. Something clanked onto the floorboards.
Voices sounded from outside.
He and Esmeralda froze as ink bled out from the jar that had fallen. Sparkles of light winked up at him as if a thousand diamonds were trapped inside.
He knelt beside it. Dipped his fingers into the iridescent liquid. His entire hand tingled with a strange burning sensation.
“This is what I’ve been searching for,” he whispered. “It’s been with the ringmaster all along. Maybe my father is closer to Veracruz than I thought.” He found Esmeralda in the shadows. “You used ink like this last year to write that letter. Did you find it in my father’s office?”
“What are you talking about? When did I ever use—”
“I definitely heard something,” someone grumbled from right outside the wagon’s front door.
Ignacio grabbed the jar. Only a few drops were left inside it. He slipped it into his pocket.
The front door handle started to turn.
Esmeralda clutched Ignacio by the shirt. “Get up, you stubborn mule. We’ve got to go before we’re caught again. Swoony kisses won’t save us this time.”
Chapter 31
Esmeralda
Ignacio left her the second they were out of sight of the ringmaster’s wagon, claiming he needed to send correspondence to the Defiant. That was fine. She had things to do herself. Like wallow. Like pontificate. Like replay their kiss in her mind on repeat because it had left her lips raw and hungry for more. Her body had come to life under his touch as if it remembered every place where he had once kissed her, as if it remembered how good he’d made her feel the night he turned eighteen.
She should have known better than to get lost in his embrace. He had betrayed her in the worst sort of way. He had used her and left her after she’d offered him the most intimate parts of herself.
She paused.
That had been almost exactly one year to the day.
“Stars above,” she whispered.
“Talking to yourself like usual, I see.”
Esmeralda spun around. “Camila?”
“In the flesh.” Camila limped out of the shadows. She had bandages wrapped around half her limbs, and her long black hair, which was normally braided and pinned up, fell in a tangled mess down her back. “I’m surprised to see you out here. I figured you’d still be in the Big Top enjoying your debut in the spotlight.”
Esmeralda winced.
“I’m not mad at you for wanting to continue in the Running. I know how important all of this”—Camila gestured toward the carnival—“is to you. But why did you stay away? What kind of person doesn’t even come to check in on a friend after a ton of marble columns crashed on them?”
Esmeralda’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t think I know how to be a friend,” she admitted. “You don’t deserve that, Camila. I don’t deserve you. Maybe it’s better if I let you have your space.”
Camila snorted. “What sort of shitty answer is that? That’s not what you should do. Not at all.” With a grunt, she lowered herself onto a candy cane–colored bench. “I know you didn’t have siblings like I do, or very many relationships for that matter, but let me explain how this works. If you care for someone, and you’ve done something that hurts them, you don’t run away. You do the opposite. You wade through all the discomfort and awkward feelings and face that person head-on and admit you messed up.”
Esmeralda toed the dirt. “That sounds absolutely horrible.”
“It is.” Camila smiled. “But love is horrible.” When Esmeralda balked, Camila chuckled. “The people we love can be annoying, and irritating, and sometimes you want to grab them by the ears and scream at their pretty faces.”
