Chapter Seventeen. In Which the Prince Is Incapable of Listening to Easy Instructions
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
In Which the Prince Is Incapable of Listening to Easy Instructions
Linda led them out of the tunnels and into midafternoon.
Risa didn’t think she would ever tire of a clear sky. Not the expanse of blue, the wisps of white clouds, the dazzling sun. It didn’t matter that her skin grew overheated or that she started sweating after a few minutes in the grueling heat.
“This will take you to Monpira.” Linda indicated a dirt road that circumvented the mountain and cut through the meadow at its base. Grass and flowers in full bloom rippled with an errant breeze, stems and faces bowing over the path that centuries of weary people had worn to dust.
“Thank you for helping us,” Amina said, already on her horse, hood pulled low over her forehead once more. She sat atop a saddle that Linda had found in a heap she called her “small leather goods” pile. “And for your gifts.”
“My pleasure,” Linda responded with a smile. When she glanced at Brunie curled around Risa’s neck like a cowl, she scowled. “Except for you.”
“Come on,” Javi said, motioning at Risa with a nod toward their horse.
Though she felt much better after having her shoulder set and drinking Linda’s questionable tisana, she wasn’t looking forward to more hours on a horse’s back. She hadn’t really enjoyed her first ride.
“Don’t glare at him like that,” Javi admonished when she neared the horse with a wary expression that the horse returned in kind. “He hasn’t done anything to you.”
Javi placed the reins in her left hand. She tried not to startle when he stepped behind her and pressed close, his body radiating heat warmer than she knew possible.
A hand reached for her waist and skimmed her left leg until it was around her knee.
His other hand hooked around her ankle, much like the first time.
She avoided giving him a look, in case he caught the way her face was aflame.
“Grab his mane,” Javi directed. “And jump.”
“I remember,” she muttered gruffly, more for herself and her traitorous heart, beating wildly in her chest. She did as he directed. When she was settled in an ungraceful hunch, he followed up after her and took the reins back.
There was no need for such a reaction from Brunhilda’s spell when Javi was right there. Next to her. His back pressed against her chest. His stomach flexing beneath her fingertips.
If they stopped the wedding, did that mean she was cursed to follow him forever?
Risa shifted her weight, and Javi glanced over his shoulder, trademark grin lopsided on his lips.
“Don’t worry. I’m an excellent rider. All kinds of experience.”
Her cheeks cooled at that.
“I am going to push you off this horse,” she threatened. She was unsure his death would break the spell, but she suddenly wished to find out.
He batted his pretty eyes at her. “You know exactly what to say.”
She thought she heard Amina whisper, “Gross.”
But Javi didn’t hear her because he had already turned his head to speak to the princess. “I do hope you’re a better conversationalist than Risa,” he said with a cheerful air.
“That’s because I find you annoying,” Risa snapped at him, letting go of his waist and fisting her hands by her sides. She would have to take her chances with falling off and cracking her head on the ground.
“I haven’t the slightest idea what she likes or dislikes,” he continued.
“I dislike you.”
“That’s one thing,” Javi corrected, then turned back to the princess. “I’m curious. Why are you called the Wolf? There is nothing quite wolflike about you.”
“Oh.” Amina’s face turned red. “It is a little silly to explain. I—well—there are not so many job opportunities for a dead girl—and my skills are limited.” She sighed. “When I started my career—”
“As a criminal,” Javi interrupted.
“—people said I hunted like a wolf. Because no one would hear about me for months, and then suddenly, I took out the biggest name on the bounty wall.”
Javi nodded appreciatively. “Most of the tavern seemed terrified of you.”
“Except those ruffians who attacked us,” Risa noted.
“The Sanguines,” Amina confirmed with a scoff of disgust. “They are a nasty bunch of mercenaries. And do not get me started on those ridiculous tattoos. Why have something that easily identifies you as belonging to a mercenary guild? How stupid do you have to be?”
Suddenly, Risa remembered the red shape she’d seen in the Bosque and the matching one of the Sanguines at the stables.
“Red crescent moons,” Risa realized with a gasp. “I saw a tattoo on someone’s arm.”
“That must have been Alex Boss.” Amina rolled her eyes. “He does not even run the show.”
“What about the one with the mustache?” Javi mimed the handlebar mustache with a hand. “I’ve been calling him Mustacho in my head. You know. Muchacho, mustacho.”
“If you have to explain the joke, it isn’t funny,” Risa muttered.
“Eto Gib,” Amina replied to Javi with a grimace. “But they call him El Gib.” She shrugged. “The one with the eyepatch is named Carlos. There are a few others, but I never bothered to learn their names.”
“It was El Gib in the Bosque,” Risa mused aloud. “I remember his eyes.”
“So this was their second attack?” Javi asked, puzzled. “Your good luck is failing.”
This garnered surprise. Amina turned to Risa. “What does he mean?”
“That’s why our royal witch made her come on this journey,” Javi said brightly. “Risa is meant to keep me from harm. She’s not here because of my dastardly good looks or my charm.”
“You’re right; I’m not.” Risa threw her tangled long hair over her shoulder while Javi scowled. “But enough about me. I’m not the criminal.”
Amina sighed. “Okay, technically I hunt bounties.” Amina pulled her hood even lower.
Risa was beginning to doubt the princess could even see; she must use echolocation or her strong desire for revenge to know where she was going.
“But I…” Amina trailed off pathetically.
“It’s far more impressive for you to be a merciless killer carrying the decapitated heads of your enemies in a sack.”
“Alas, I am not that ruthless.” Amina breathed harshly out of her nose. “I run an underground rehabilitation program. I help criminals leave their lives of crime behind and find new lives and professions. It is called Crimi-No-Longer.”
Risa gasped. “No.”
“I was eleven when I thought of the name! I believed it was a very clever pun.”
“Not a good one,” Javi mumbled.
“What kind of professions?” Risa asked.
“Bakers. Potters. A lot of librarians.” She raised her nose to the sky. “My contact in Monpira is a bookseller. He will be able to get us to the San Cirilo outpost without the Sanguines being any the wiser. He makes weekly trips to other towns for book purchasing.”
Risa snorted. “Is he going to use paper cuts to defend us from the group of mercenaries determined to murder the prince for no reason?”
“There has to be a reason,” Javi huffed.
“I guess you can add them to the list of people who dislike you.”
Javi flashed her a smile. “You are still number one.”
Monpira announced itself with a few shacks that had small chicken coops attached to the sides. Then with small cottages peppering the dirt road, until finally, an entire city sprouted from the ground.
Coming from Barrow, which was barely bigger than a village, Risa had never seen anything quite so grand.
Large buildings loomed over their smaller brethren, though each facade was in a different vibrant color, a rainbow painted across each street.
There was blueberry blue here, sunflower yellow there, ruby red that rivaled the gem in Javi’s ring.
The doors were painted contrasting colors, adding a distracting whimsy to the entire scene.
White balconies jutted out from the higher floors of buildings to oversee the goings-on of the street below, while trees and bushes were planted between each edifice, green leaves and budding flowers shielding owners from nosy neighbors.
The place was a celebration reflected in the dress of its people, who strutted about with great importance, noses tipped in the air.
The new arrivals went unnoticed, as the Monpirans were all too concerned with their passing reflections, pausing only to fix their flamboyant ensembles when they shifted slightly out of place.
Fabrics ranged from blinding white to violet, fuchsia to new-leaf green.
There were bustle skirts with large petticoats, billowing sleeves, tall hats on the verge of toppling from an errant breeze.
Unaccustomed to such an expansive place, Risa found herself overwhelmed. She couldn’t help reaching for the tail of Javi’s tunic, or shifting closer when one of those tall hats nearly crashed into her, its owner unaware of the near accident.
Amina approached the sprawling city with unwavering focus.
She weaved through the busy streets until they reached the most nondescript building Risa had seen by far, an ugly brown thing made of mismatched wood that read STABLES in large block letters carved by a rough hand.
Inside, they paid with enough reales to get the horses a feast and promised the animals they’d return.
From there, they headed into the heart of town, and eventually, Amina turned around and placed a gloved finger over each of their mouths, like a mother addressing her two ill-behaved children.
“Do not draw attention to yourselves. Can you do that?”
“I’m not his babysitter,” Risa grumbled against Amina’s finger, crossing her arms for good measure.
The last time Javi had been let loose in a town, he’d gotten most of it to fall in love with him. And then she had almost died in a sacrifice. She had no desire to bear witness to such a farce all over again.
Amina heaved an exaggerated sigh and dropped her hands. “I am going to find my contact, and then I will find you. Try not to…” She made a vague gesture.
“Then what are we supposed to do?” Javi moaned.