Chapter Eighteen. In Which the Girl Must Do Something She Totally Doesn’t Want to Do #2
Now it all came rushing back. The curse would find a way to hurt whoever came too close to her, even if it was some stupid prince with very soft lips and even softer hair.
She owed it to him to keep her distance, to pack her walls with more mortar, to ensure that her bad luck didn’t take him out on the false premise that he might care for her in any way.
“Keep your disguise,” she ordered, because all the other things she wanted to say sounded false. She readjusted the scarf over his hair and face until it was securely in place and only his amber eyes could be seen.
“What will your disguise be?” His voice was barely muffled by the silken cloth.
“I don’t need one,” she said, satisfied with her work. She shook out her waves. Fluffed her hair until it doubled in size. “I’m not a handsome prince. Just a country bumpkin.”
“We both know that isn’t true.” Time stood still as he reached for a lock of her hair to rub between his fingers.
It couldn’t happen again. It couldn’t happen again. It could definitely—
Black fur streaked between them, sending Javi sneezing.
“There you are!”
Amina stood on the other side of the crates, only her forehead and eyes visible over the edge. Her hood was down—no doubt useful for misdirection, but it made staring at her nauseating.
“Sorry.” Javi flashed her an easy smile. “We ran into a bit of a problem.”
“I know,” Amina muttered, glancing back at the crowd. She pulled up her hood and half her face settled.
“Did you meet with your contact?” Risa wrestled with Brunie, who was kneading her thigh with insistent paws. She then noticed the towering man standing a few feet away and gawked in alarm.
Amina answered Risa with a wave. “This is Paulo. But we should wait a while longer before we traipse out of here together.”
Paulo was bigger and tougher than any of the Sanguines. A patch of old red scars mottled the shiny dark brown of his bald head. Deep lines bracketed his mouth, making him appear both ancient and youthful at the same time. His white linen shirt and matching flowy pants were stark against his skin.
Paulo raised a hand as large as Risa’s head. Calluses rimmed the top of his palm. “Hi.” His voice was deep and reverberated in Risa’s chest. “I’m Paulo.” He sounded perfectly pleasant.
“He is the bookseller,” Amina explained.
Javi gave the librarian turned bookseller a once-over. “He doesn’t look like a bookseller.”
Paulo narrowed his dark green eyes into sharp pinpricks. “What does a bookseller look like?”
“You know.” Javi motioned vaguely with a hand.
“I don’t.”
“They usually have glasses.”
Paulo was silent. He reached into the breast pocket of his shirt and produced a pair of thin-wire spectacles too small for his large face, then slid them onto his nose.
“Better, principito?” the large man asked.
Amina rolled her eyes. She pulled Paulo behind the crates, where they could all huddle on their knees without being noticed. Though even as Paulo crouched beside her, Risa was sure the top of his skull was visible over the crates.
“Paulo, tell them.”
“The Sanguines have been recruiting new members for a heist in San Cirilo—keep claiming they have an in that guarantees success. No information on what they’re stealing, only that it’s in the Flying Palace.”
“You overheard this in a bookstore?” Risa asked, unable to tamp down her curiosity.
“Yes,” Paulo answered. “Even mercenaries need information from trusted sources. Quiet spaces are ideal for planning when criminals don’t have a secret lair. Booksellers and librarians are also huge gossips.”
Javi gave a pensive nod. “That definitely makes sense.”
“What could they want in San Cirilo?” Amina asked Javi.
He shrugged. “All I can think of are the blueprints. The Regent and my father have been estranged for years. We’ve had difficulty getting ahold of any information about the city since it’s an autonomous region.”
“Could the Sanguines have overheard us speaking about going to San Cirilo while we were in Spearbelly?” Risa asked Amina.
“I don’t see how—Eto has terrible hearing, and he’s the only one with half a brain.”
“Unless Bella was there,” Paulo said. “Beautiful woman with a wonderful set of—” He stopped, glanced at Amina, and cleared his throat. “Eyes. Definitely smarter than El Gib.”
“No, she wasn’t in Spearbelly,” Risa spat. She jerked her chin at the prince. “He had the pleasure of running into her here.”
“Then it’s a coincidence,” Amina decided.
But Risa didn’t believe in coincidences. Not with her curse being the way it was.
Amina tapped a finger against the side of her cheek, where her scar looked angry and fresh. “Blueprints … I suppose they could sell them to the highest bidder.”
“Or they already have an interested buyer,” Paulo added.
“Imagine if anyone could build an airship.” Amina shivered in disgust.
It was well known that the Regent had sealed the airship formula and blueprints away and refused to sell the knowledge.
Most of Risa’s tutors had been outright suspicious of the autonomous region, and she was sure other Kheadish citizens felt the same.
No one knew anything about the mechanics, the logistics, or the city at large.
Risa wouldn’t have been surprised if any of the engineers from the palace who tried to leave went mysteriously missing.
“Or destroy them,” Paulo suggested, pensive. “Still, it is a risky endeavor. It is unlike them to advertise so indiscriminately. El Gib might be a fool, but he isn’t that stupid. Such an attempt would result in multiple casualties.”
“I need to warn my uncle.” Javi scrambled onto his knees. “Cousin?”
Risa shook her head and placed a hand on his shoulder, forcing him to look at her. “Do you not find it suspicious that you cannot recall who sits as Regent?”
Javi glanced at her hand and she quickly dropped it, burned by his gaze.
“I told you. We’ve been estranged.”
“Have you never met them?”
He scowled. “I have. It’s just been five years—”
Risa and Javi both turned to look at Amina as something sank in the pit of Risa’s stomach.
Five years. The same amount of time that had passed since the Madrosian royal family was killed.
Another connection Risa refused to chalk up to coincidence. Amina’s curse was linked to something bigger, something that rendered her kingdom forgettable—and perhaps made thoughts around San Cirilo murky as well.
The autonomous city was allied with no one and was the sole target of the Anti-Airship Federation.
What better way for General Sur to slowly take over the world than by hiding in plain sight, cursing everyone to forget what he’d done to get where he was, and convincing several nations to conspire against his greatest opposition while forcing that opposition to slowly lose allies?
“We will stick to the plan,” Amina determined. “We go to San Cirilo and warn your cousin—”
“Aunt,” Javi corrected.
“—and hopefully they can repay the favor by helping us cross the desert. Assuming the Sanguines are planning to steal from San Cirilo, there is no point in the Regent keeping the peace.”
Paulo took off his spectacles, folded them carefully, and placed them back in his shirt pocket. “I can hide you in my book cart and take you to the port.”
Amina dropped her head, shielding her face from view. “If Eto sees you—”
“He won’t,” Paulo said with certainty, rubbing a hand over his shiny head, which was speckled with sweat.
Under more scrutiny, Risa realized the burns on his head had not been caused by a particularly brutal sun. The collection of cicatrices resembled the shape of a crescent moon—if jagged and uneven.
Now she understood how Paulo knew so much, and why he was concerned.
He had left his former life behind and become someone new.
Now he wore too-small glasses and worked in a quiet place surrounded by books and seemed content with a hard-earned life despite the scars that came with it.
He’d transformed into the kind of man willing to put his own life on the line to help a friend and two strangers, all because it might be the right thing to do.
Guilt swelled in Risa’s throat. She was still pretending to be someone, though she couldn’t quite remember who.
A girl with good luck, a girl who was only journeying along in hopes of breaking her curse, a girl who would die if she didn’t keep her end of a bargain she never agreed to.
It didn’t matter which role she played, what mask she wore; all of it was a lie to save herself.
After all, who else would?