Chapter Three
Juniper took a decorative metal art piece of a stag with six legs from the wall and placed it into a box in the corner of her room.
“I like this one,” Cricket said, scooping up a different metal piece with a conjoined butterfly. Purple and black spots painted their ivory bodies.
“I make them in my spare time. Just a simple pastime.” Juniper shrugged, dismissing her creations as nothing special, but Cricket was always attracted to any form of art and could tell these had taken time.
“Well, it’s beautiful. All of them are.” Cricket smiled and rested the conjoined butterfly neatly into the box. As for her belongings, she didn’t need to worry about putting anything away for the short journey to Nobel since she’d never hung anything on her walls. They’d been in Sorel since before Cricket had woken, one of the carnival’s longest visits. Other times their stays might only be a week—Mistress Eliza had told her—depending on the crowds.
“You can have a seat,” Juniper said, plonking down on a knitted quilt, then patting the spot beside her. Cricket hesitated before sitting on the lumpy mattress and leaning against the wall. The room was cozy with a pink and black color pattern, one of the walls checkered in the same hues. The sweet aromas of sugar and pastries lingered, both pleasant and comforting, reminding her of when her mother used to bake pies.
Juniper hopped from the bed and grabbed a porcelain pot from her vanity. “I forgot the tea. It might not be as hot now, but it will do.” She poured them both a cup, then carefully sat back on the mattress and handed Cricket one. Cricket took a slow sip, letting the lovely liquid glide down her throat while savoring the flavors of honey and chamomile.
“It’s good,” Cricket said, tipping the cup back once more.
Juniper polished off her tea before grabbing a leather bag from the floor and setting it between them. “Hungry?” she asked as she drew out a cloth napkin containing a few pieces of dried meat, cookies, and sugary pastries.
“Famished,” Cricket said, inhaling the mixture of delicious scents. Until then, Cricket hadn’t realized how much energy the spell with her curiosity had truly taken from her. Her stomach growled as she peered at the pastries. “Where did you get those?”
“They were gifts that some of the visitors left tonight. They’ve already been inspected. No poison.” Juniper grinned, handing her two pastries with grape jam in their centers.
“Oh? You’re lucky. I would dance all day for pastries if I could.” Cricket bit into the first one, tasting cinnamon mingled with the grape.
“When you perform, you’ll get plenty. Flowers aren’t as lovely as sweets, but they are wonderful too.”
Flowers … Cricket didn’t want to think of a single flower at the moment, and she was relieved Juniper didn’t have any in her caravan. She studied Juniper, her soft and delicate features—she couldn’t be more than nineteen. The age Cricket had been when she’d died. She missed an entire birthday, not that it should matter. But it mattered to her.
Cricket wanted to think about something else, anything else. “I doubt you noticed me with such big audiences, but I used to come to the carnival every year and watch you perform. How long have you been here?”
Juniper’s brow furrowed, seeming to mull over her answer. “Ten years now. Zephyr and I came to the carnival together. He was twelve, and I was nine.”
She’d come with Zephyr? That meant they’d died around the same time… Had possibly been friends before… Cricket then thought about Autumn, her fingers slipping into the waistband of Zephyr’s trousers. Maybe right now, he’d even taken her somewhere more private… “I think you deserve someone who will love you the same. From what I’ve seen of Zephyr, he’s…”
Juniper wrinkled her nose, studying her in confusion. “ What ?”
“You and Zephyr. He’s always flirting with other women and—”
“One moment.” Juniper held up a hand, a snort escaping her. “You think I’m in love with Zephyr ?”
“Aren’t you?” By the way Juniper was now staring at her with wide eyes and only blinking, perhaps she’d been wrong.
Juniper slapped the mattress, and hysterical laughter poured out from her mouth. “Zephyr and I are not , nor will we ever be, lovers. I think I may lose my stomach now for even thinking about something so atrocious.”
“I…” Cricket’s cheeks flamed as they always tended to do when she grew uncomfortable. “Forgive me. My mistake.”
“I know we don’t look much alike—or at all—but he’s my brother.”
Cricket winced. Brother … She’d misread things by a lot, and Juniper was right—they didn’t look alike in the slightest. But now she could see how their affection for one another would seem more akin to siblings. How Zephyr would playfully tug Juniper’s hair in the way a brother would with a younger sister, and the way Juniper would gently shove him at his teasing. “Ignore my foolishness. I’m sorry.” If Anika was here, Cricket wouldn’t have felt as embarrassed, but she wasn’t—she was in Nobel with Bram.
“No, no.” Juniper laughed again. “It’s all right. Although, it’s something we will never speak of again. I mean, I’ve never even had a lover. She wouldn’t—” Her lips snapped shut, stopping herself from continuing.
“You fancy someone else here?” Cricket grinned, her curiosity piqued. “Who is she ?”
Juniper stared up at the ceiling as if she wasn’t going to answer her, but then she released a long sigh. “Don’t tell anyone. But Stormy. Not even Zephyr knows.”
Stormy, the acrobat who could make iridescent scales appear across her body. Who did happen to have a lover. She’d seen her and Louise’s earlier dalliance when Cricket had been with Zephyr.
“It’s—”
A knock came at the door, interrupting Cricket. Juniper set down her pastry and hopped from the bed to answer it.
“Look what I found,” a familiar male voice said.
Cricket wished there was another door to sneak out of as Zephyr stepped inside and handed Juniper a silver brooch. He halted when his gaze met Cricket’s, staring at her as if he didn’t believe she was truly there. “I wondered where you snuck off to. You listened to my advice after all.” A smirk formed on his face, and Cricket wanted to slap the cockiness away, even though her heart beat a tad bit faster as she studied his taut muscles.
“We’re having a lovely chat here, so how about we talk later?” Juniper grabbed her brother by the shoulder, leading him out of the caravan as he chuckled. After shutting the door, she turned back to Cricket, then placed her hands on her hips. “Sorry about him. He can be a nuisance.”
“He most certainly can be.” Cricket found herself softly laughing, then sobered as she wondered about something else. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“Did you ever have trouble with your curiosity when Mistress Eliza brought you back from the dead?”
“This?” Juniper held up a hand and flexed it. Beads of deep crimson seeped from her pores like glistening ruby pearls. The blood trailed down her flesh briefly before she tightened her fist, reining the crimson droplets back in. So easily. So effortlessly. “I don’t think anyone here would want my ability, though.” Juniper sighed.
“I rather like it,” Cricket said in awe. She hated to admit it, but she was envious that she couldn’t manipulate her curiosity the same way. The dahlias that had sprouted unwillingly only reminded her of death. Blood could feel like death, but it was also life, what one needed to thrive.
Juniper smiled. “It took me longer than everyone here to master mine. Perhaps a week.”
“It’s been a whole month for me, and today was the closest I’ve been. Even then, it was tragic.” But there was something hopeful that Zephyr had told her, how he’d seen a red rose peek out for a moment before vanishing.
“Someone always screams during my performances and believes I’m truly bleeding to death.” Juniper cackled. “I shouldn’t laugh, but I do now. At first, I didn’t—I’d wished that any other curiosity here was mine, but it’s grown on me. Especially when I’m given the pastries. Yours will eventually come the way it was meant to. When you were asleep, everyone thought you to be an enchanted princess and wanted to kiss you awake.”
“Please tell me no one did.” Cricket recoiled. The thought of crowds staring at her, wanting her to wake with a stranger’s kiss, made her stomach churn. She was grateful that no visitors knew she was the Sleeping Darling once she woke. Everyone believed the mysterious woman had awoken and left the carnival. After a few weeks, they finally stopped asking about her.
“No, the performers protected you. Zephyr punched one man who said he could pleasure you awake. He’d asked me if he should use his tongue or his length on you to do it.”
Cricket scowled as blood boiled in her veins. “I would’ve kicked him between the legs if I’d heard his disgusting words.” The performers hadn’t known her, yet they’d protected her, and since being awake, she had avoided everyone like a deadly plague instead of getting to know them. “If I may ask, how did you and Zephyr come to the carnival together?” The answer would be grim—that was for certain. Everyone’s story was, even if she had yet to learn how death had come for them.
“No, no, it’s fine.” Juniper waved a hand in the air, then took a deep breath. “We were traveling with our parents to our aunt’s manor when our carriage was attacked by thieves. Papa fought back, and that only made the situation worse. The leader and his band of men killed the four of us. Mistress Eliza felt something that day, and after reviving me, it was still there in Zephyr, and she was able to rouse him too. It’s a rarity to raise two as she did, but she saved us both even though I hadn’t wanted it at first. Her necromancer ability doesn’t call to just anyone, or she would’ve raised my parents. Even though I begged her to do it, she wouldn’t, and I accepted her reasoning long ago.”
The mere thought of someone murdering children sickened Cricket, and she couldn’t imagine how someone became so vile. Why couldn’t the thieves have just taken the stolen goods and fled? “I hope all the bastards are dead.”
“All five of them were found and hanged, thankfully. After all these years, it isn’t enough—my parents are still dead.” She paused, staring at the window as if attempting to see the sky above. “I had a home then, but this is my home now. This is your home, too, if you allow it to be.”
Home… The home she once had with her parents was no longer theirs, and the carnival could potentially be that... But not if she couldn’t hone in on her curiosity. “I think I better take rest in my caravan since we’ll be leaving soon.”
“Stop by any time. And take another with you.” Juniper smiled and placed a sugary pastry in Cricket’s palm.
As Cricket ventured into the night, she walked between caravans, passing several strong men and performers preparing for travel. She thought about Nobel, unsure if she could face her old city again. A murder of crows cawed above her, and she glanced up at their shadowy forms beneath the crescent moon before stepping into her caravan. Everything was ready for the journey—the bed and vanity bolted to the floor, her few sacks nestled into the corner of her room. In the morning, the strong men would bring the horses to the caravans and drive them to Nobel.
Slipping off her leather boots and changing into a long white nightgown, Cricket fell back on the mattress and studied the ceiling, the chipped gray paint. She rolled on her side, wondering what she would do if she couldn’t get her curiosity to work properly and was banished from the carnival. If that happened, she supposed she would just drift from place to place until she died of old age or the dahlias chose to come back and consume her.
Cricket took one of the horses to Bram’s manor, courtesy of Mistress Eliza. After visiting Nobel, she promised she would return it, that she would come back and work at the carnival, yet it had been a lie. She just needed to get to Bram—she’d been in hibernation for over a year. He believed her to be dead, not knowing she’d been dug up from her grave to be a spectacle.
The manor was the same as always, with a beautiful and lush green garden. Cricket drew the horse to a halt, then carefully slid from its back. She knocked on the door with a shaky hand, and when no one answered, she tried again. A familiar face greeted her, one of the servants, Nettie, most of her gray hair hidden beneath a cap.
“Miss Cricket?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The click of shoes against wood sounded, and the door opened wider. Nettie slipped away as Anika stood in the servant’s place, her dark hair in a bun at the nape of her neck. Her deep brown eyes widened in surprise. “Cricket?” she gasped. “You died. A ghost. You’re a ghost.”
Cricket threw her arms around her friend. “I’m not a ghost, Anika. I’m warm. See? But yes, I was dead after that bastard Clancy murdered me. I would’ve come sooner if I hadn’t been in a deep slumber for the past year. The carnival necromancer saved my life when she resurrected me.” Releasing her friend, she took a step back.
A set of heavy boots echoed through the hallway, and Bram entered the room, appearing almost the same except for a golden chain from a watch hanging out of his pocket. His clothing was still neat, his hair swept back, and he wasn’t looking at her but at Anika. “Your tea’s ready,” he said with a smile.
Anika bit her lip and shifted to the side, her hands trembling. “Can you grab another? We have a guest.”
As Bram’s gaze met Cricket’s, the cup fell from his grasp, shattering to the floor, tea slicking the wood. Cricket noticed something else different about him, a golden ring on his left finger. Heart pounding, her eyes drifted to Anika’s hand, finding a gold piece with a diamond in the center hugging hers.
Realization struck Cricket, and she couldn’t breathe, her lungs frozen. “You’re married?” she whispered, stumbling backward.
Bram caught her by the shoulders before she could run, run back to the grave where she should’ve been left in peace.
“We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice soft. “Don’t leave. Just talk to me.”
Cricket bolted up in bed, her chest heaving as the caravan jostled. The strong men must’ve already tacked the horses to the caravans and started their descent for Nobel.
Her throat was dry, and she couldn’t stop thinking about her last visit to the city. Bram had confessed that he’d fallen in love with Anika through grief as they’d both worked together to find the man who’d slaughtered her. It was something Cricket couldn’t fault either of them for, even though she’d been dejected.
She’d learned that after she died, her parents abandoned Nobel, unable to deal with another of their children’s deaths. Bram had hoped wherever they were, they’d heard that the murderer had been found and hanged for his crime, yet if they did, they never returned.
After promising to come back and see Bram and Anika, Cricket had gone into town to visit a few establishments alone, to think, but then she didn’t keep true to her word—she’d chosen to go to the carnival instead. The lie hadn’t been to Mistress Eliza after all but to Bram and Anika.
The caravan drew to a stop, and Cricket’s pulse sped—she couldn’t go home, no matter how much she thought she could. She peered out the door and, just ahead, she found a wheel on one of the caravans was broken. Not bothering to get properly dressed or put on her boots, she pushed open the door and fled. Her bare feet protested as rocks and twigs scraped along her skin, but she ignored the pain.
As she realized she didn’t know where she was running to or what she would do when she reached an unknown wilderness, Cricket collapsed to her knees and sobbed into her hands. She’d given up on her dream of performing in the past, and she couldn’t let herself repeat the same mistake when given a second chance. The only way forward for her was to go back. So she picked herself up, swiped the dirt from her nightgown, and returned to the carnival.