Maid of Deception by Jennifer McGowan

Author:Jennifer McGowan
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

We could do nothing until the music stopped, but in truth we didn’t have to make the first move. I saw the wave of recognition move through the Travelers even as we hesitated at the edge of their circle. With a sharp nod to the musicians, a man who must have been the leader of this troupe held up a hand.

The frenzied music stopped with a last, percussive burst.

Sophia and her young man collapsed against each other, laughing so hard, they were crying, and the crowd around them gave a throaty cheer. Then the ring opened toward us, and Sophia chose that moment to look up.

Seeing her, my heart caught in my throat. This was not the pallid girl of Windsor Castle, with pained eyes and thin, pinched lips. No, this Sophia was utterly changed—her hair wild and free, her face bright with heat and excitement, her torn lavender gown draping off her shoulder to bare an expanse of flushed porcelain skin.

“Beatrice!” she cried, and peeled away from her young man to fling herself through the open space toward me. I caught her easily as she flew into my arms, and immediately smelled the sharp, sweet spice of mulled wine.

I raised my eyes heavenward even as I grappled with Sophia, her body slewing around in my grasp.

She was drunk.

“Who thought it was a good idea to give this girl wine?” I demanded, not bothering to introduce myself. With Sophia calling me by name, this troupe would know I was the daughter of the lord who owned this land. I might not have remembered them, but chances were good that they’d remember me.

“It’s really good!” Sophia gasped, then hiccuped. Two men stepped forward—well, a father and son, I could see at a glance. The older man looked to be in his fifties, and his hair was a perfect mane the color of steel. He wore peasant garb, a loose-fitting jacket and breeches. But a bright-colored silk scarf fluttered at his neck, and his manner proclaimed him Egyptian royalty. This would be the leader of their group, but I didn’t recognize him. Of course, I’d been perhaps nine years old the last time I’d seen a Traveler this close.

“Lady Beatrice Knowles,” the leader spoke, and though I didn’t recognize his face, the voice caught me up short. That I remembered. This man had sung to me when I was a child, and his voice had been a thing of beauty. “I am—”

“Stefan Behari,” I said, the name surfacing from the depths of memory I had thought long since covered over and forgotten. I looked then to his son. “And you must be Nicolai?”

The young man scowled at me, his eyes fixed on Sophia, but the older man grinned broadly and clapped his hands together. “She remembers! The proper lady all grown up remembers a poor tinker, who knew naught but to sing for his supper all those years ago.”

“Your supper and food for your entire troupe, if I remember now,” I said, jostling Sophia to one side.

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