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“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.
Chapter Four
As Cricket drew closer to her caravan, several performers lingered in the open, waiting for the carnival to continue their journey while the damaged wagon wheel was being replaced. Stormy and Louise bickered about something, their words too low for Cricket to hear, but their scowling expressions were more than telling that they were annoyed with one another.
Mistress Eliza stood near Cricket’s caravan, her back turned, barking orders to two of the strong men. The beads of the necromancer’s bracelets clanked together on her arms as she motioned at them to hurry. Cricket silently approached, hoping to sneak back into her caravan without being noticed. But Mistress Eliza glanced over her shoulder, her brow arched as she met Cricket’s gaze.
“I suppose you decided to return, did you? Two of the performers caught you running away,” Mistress Eliza huffed, placing her hands on her hips while turning from the two men and limping toward her. “How was your temporary leave?”
