Chapter 8 Ignacio
Ignacio
Ignacio’s body jostled violently, wrenching him from his dreams of being clobbered by a little bird.
Strange, he thought. He didn’t recall falling asleep.
He opened his eyes but quickly slammed them shut when white light flooded his vision and an all-consuming pain lanced through his skull. He groaned and rubbed his hands over his face.
What happened?
The muscles in his stomach tensed. He had seen Esmeralda Montero. Really and truly. The girl he thought was lost to him forever was there, dressed as some bird inside Carnival Fantástico. And she had clocked him. Him, of all people!
What right did she have to be so mad at him?
If anyone had a right to be so angry that they’d throw a golden egg, it should be him!
She had gone back on all the promises they made to each other when they were younger.
She was the one who didn’t show up under the dove tree that night.
They were going to run away together. But what did she do instead?
The little chicken. She left him a coldhearted letter.
The one currently tucked away inside his coat.
Whatever bench he was resting on shuddered viciously.
“Watch the potholes, Mini,” a gruff voice called. “We’ve got a long way yet to go until we get to the clinker.”
The clinker?
The sound of clopping hooves and smell of dried grass jerked his mind to full alertness.
He shot up. Ignoring his pounding headache, he opened his eyes. His jaw dropped. Somehow, he’d been put inside a barred cart. And there was nothing but yellowed wheat fields for miles on end.
“What is the meaning of this?” he hollered.
The man driving the wagon peered over his shoulder. He had a wispy beard, a knife-sharp nose, and devilry in his eyes.
“The sleeping beauty has awoken, I see.” He chuckled to himself.
Ignacio wrapped his fingers around the rusted bars and shook them. “I demand you let me out of here at once.”
“Or what?” The man flicked the reins and the sturdy horse pulling the cart trotted faster.
“I’m an officer of the law!” Ignacio lied. In fact, he was wanted by all officers of the law on account of his desertion from the Blackbirds and his suspected ties to the Defiant. But that was none of this man’s business.
The jailer chuckled. “You’d be surprised how often I hear that one.”
Ignacio’s hand went to his collar to find proof.
But his falsified badge was gone. No. His fingers dug into his coat.
The letter and flyer remained. He tunneled into his pants pocket.
Found nothing but lint. His entire body went ice cold with dread.
The tin box he’d taken from his room with dozens of rolled-up notes written between her and him was gone.
“Esmeralda,” Ignacio growled. The brat. The thief. The coward. “How did I get in here?” he asked. “Why am I under arrest?”
“That pretty girl with the wild hair caught you stealing. Said you were after her golden eggs.”
“After her…” Ignacio could breathe fire, he was so furious. “I wasn’t stealing anything. You have an innocent man.”
He shouldn’t be surprised by this. Esmeralda had always been the first to throw a low blow in a fight.
The jailer huffed. “If I had a silver coin for every time I heard that, my girl Mini here would have horseshoes made of Blackbird obsidian. But I will soon enough. Once I deposit you to the military barracks.”
“The what?”
“Didn’t think I’d recognize you, eh? I’ve been around long enough to remember when your mother was still in charge. I know who you are, son, and who’s looking for you right now.”
Bloody hell.
“I demand you release me!”
“Not a chance. Your daddy will put up a fair amount of dough for your return. What he plans on doing with you, one can only imagine. I doubt even the son of the great comandante can be pardoned for abandoning his duty as a soldier.”
If this man knew half of the things Ignacio knew about “the great comandante,” he wouldn’t be so worried over Ignacio’s desertion.
Or perhaps the jailer wouldn’t care at all.
There were so many people in this world who would happily turn the other way, so long as their lives were left unaffected, or they could benefit.
Ignacio eyed the bars. They were old but well made.
He obviously couldn’t break himself out by prying them loose.
He turned to the small door at the rear.
The lock sealing him inside was the size of his head.
But the hinges…now those looked as if they hadn’t seen maintenance in ages.
The welds were even cracked in some spots.
If he was going to chance an escape, he’d have to do it fast. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been knocked out.
Who knew how far he was from the carnival now or how close they were to the barracks.
Ignacio had to get away. He had to figure out who knew his father’s secrets. He needed to bring the comandante and King Amadeo to justice for what they’d done.
Was it Esmeralda who wrote to his father? She had used this ink before.
No. She would never. She hated Father. But who knew if that was still true? There was no telling what Esmeralda was capable of anymore.
But, dammit, she looked good. Distractingly so.
When she had worked as his father’s runner, she’d been the prettiest girl Ignacio had ever seen.
Now she was beyond beautiful. Her cheeks had filled in a bit.
Other places too. She had never donned makeup when they were growing up, but the deep purple lipstick she wore when he caught her behind the Big Top brought out the plumpness of her mouth. A mouth he’d once tasted.
He shook his head to break his thoughts apart.
She had you arrested. She knocked you out with a blasted egg.
It was his turn to return the favor. Not the knocking out part, of course. But he could be cold. He could be callous.
Perhaps it was petty to want to hurt her. Perhaps it was wrong. But Esmeralda Montero had cut him to his very core, and he’d been living in a state of brokenness ever since. Getting back at her might be the thing to finally mend the damage caused to his heart.
But first, he had to escape this jailer.
Carnival Fantástico did not stay in one location for long, and the train pulling the attractions from city to city moved at an incredible speed. Knowing how skittish she was, he doubted Esmeralda would even be there by the time he caught up to the traveling circus again.
The jailer began to hum the same irritating tune that played on a loop at Carnival Fantástico. Silently, Ignacio slithered to the other end of the barred cart. He lay on his back and placed his boots on the iron slates of the small door. He heaved.
Saints, the door is heavy.
The lock made a great clatter. The jailer peered over his shoulder.
“Stop that right now!” he yelled.
“I’d rather not.” Ignacio gritted his teeth and grunted as he shoved his legs upward yet again.
“Stop that!” the jailer pulled back on the reins.
Tiny dots danced in Ignacio’s vision, but he didn’t rest. Not until the hinges gave out and the door broke, held up by only the giant lock. He scrambled to his hands and knees and squeezed through the opening, tumbling onto the dirt.
“I said stop!” the jailer screamed.
But Ignacio was already running away, bolting as hard and as fast as he could in the direction they had just come from. Praying to the gods once written about in fairy tales that he wasn’t too late.