Petra of the Shazastar is a thief on the run from an unforgettable past. But, like all thieves, her luck cannot last forever. When she is caught, she's given a choice: either face execution or become the fortune teller to the Mad Queen.
Not surpri...
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EVERY LIFT AND DROP OF the flute and fiddle leads me out of the inn and into the darkened forest. Farther and farther away, until I am in an enclosure surrounded by nothing more than trees and a jarring silence. I dig my feet into the damp soil and a slight cool breeze wakes me from my hazy trance. How did I make it to the forest without alerting Giovanni or his guards? I am many things, but stealthy I am not.
"Calm down, Petra." But I cannot think rationally, not when the only thoughts fluttering around my mind are those of the forest Zingari.
They capture you with their song and make you do their bidding!
You cannot escape them. For death waits. Death!
I suppress a shudder.
"Stupid Stefano and his stupid stories." My bitter alterations echo around me, in the voices of a million secretly frightened Petras. For how else would I have made it to the forest if not for the forest Zingari magic?
"For one to have escaped the Azdags, to be afraid of a little gypsy magic is rather silly, no?"
I whirl around to the voice, but there is nothing there. Nothing. Just silence and the mad pumping of blood in my ears.
Azdags.
"No. No. I am not an Azdag my dear. Far from it. I don't believe they can even speak, the poor devils. Out to destroy the world and can't utter a single syllable."
The voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. It envelopes me more than the music had and yet leaves me alone all the while.
Despite my efforts to remain unperturbed, I am unsettled and the slight tremor in my voice exposes me completely. "And—and where are you?"
"I am here. All around you."
I take a small breath. At the very least whoever was speaking to me was not an Azdag. I run my hands down my arms, but it does nothing to calm my nerves. Whoever this phantom is, was not making our acquaintance easy.
"What do you want of me then? I am no one of consequence. Just a lonely traveler –"
"Do not lie to me, Petra. You only look silly doing so."
My mouth shuts instantly.
"Besides, I have what you seek. And you have what I seek. Witch of the Shazastar."
Witch.
I cringe at the word. But it is said matter-of-factly, without malice and not dripping with hate, as is often the case.
