The Ringmaster (Harrow Faire #4) - Kathryn Ann Kingsley Page 0,24

even Ringmaster.”

She smiled faintly, nodded, and did her best to swallow her fear. As they approached the tent, stepping into the glow of the lights with their amber Edison filaments, the whole place went silent.

Cora instantly decided there was no worse feeling in the world than having a dozen and a half people stop, swivel, and stare at her. She wanted to sink into the ground or to turn around and run away.

But Simon was unfazed. If anything, he—unsurprisingly—doubled down. He marched into the center aisle, dragging her along beside him, grinning like a fool. “Good evening, all. What is on the menu tonight? Oh—is it tacos? How banal. Come, cupcake. Let’s fetch our food.”

And with that, she was dragged past the staring rows of people. She smiled sheepishly at Donna and Amanda as she was pulled over to the buffet table.

When they got to the food, he let go of her hand so they could both gather their dinner. After a long pause, he looked down at her with a sly smile. “If you are to be a freak and a pariah, take a bit of advice from our own dear Bearded Lady. Own it.”

“I guess, but—”

“Cora.”

The deep voice cut into her words and killed any hope for a peaceful, quiet night. She hoped she could just smile, wave, tell everyone she was so very sorry about Clown—never mind the fact that he’s kind-of-sort-of-but-not-really inside my head—and that she was okay.

But her name was said with the kind of finality she hadn’t heard since she was a child and had done something foolish. It was a father’s voice. She turned slowly and looked up at Ringmaster. Why is everyone here so damn tall?

She put down her plate of food. “Hi.” It was the best she could muster.

He was frowning, his thick black mustache curled into an upside-down U. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I think so.” She felt Simon standing close to her back. Turk didn’t even glance up to Simon. But she knew the tension between the two was going to quickly climb. “Thank you.”

“We need to talk. Alone. Come with me.”

“No.” Simon’s hand fell on her shoulder. “She goes nowhere alone. If you wish to talk to her, you do it here. Or you do it with at least me present.”

Finally, Turk looked at the Puppeteer. “I’m not a danger to her. You have no right.”

Simon huffed a laugh. “I have every right. She’s mine. Rules of Sponsorship still apply. It is my responsibility to look after her.”

She rolled her eyes. “Guys—”

And she was promptly ignored. The two men were too busy bickering about whether Simon had the right to intrude on the conversation. Turk was arguing no, as Ringmaster, he could override, and Simon was cackling about how Turk finally admitted he believed himself above the rules, and so-on.

“I fucking hate both of you, I swear.” She ducked out from under Simon’s arm, snatched her plate of food, and walked away. “I am sick and tired of people making decisions for me! If you want to talk, Ringmaster. Fine. We can talk. Either do it here, or whenever I goddamn feel like it.”

She found a spot next to Jack, Aaron, and Bertha. Putting down her plate, she slumped onto the bench, and stared down at her ground beef and taco shells. “Hi, guys. I’ll go away if you don’t—”

She yelped as Jack yanked her into a tight hug. “Oh, God, Cora. We were so worried! We heard you were awake, but Anastasia said you and Simon were having problems, so we didn’t come bother you.”

Cora laughed, patted Jack on the arm, and gently nudged him away. She smiled at him, and at his concerned expression. “I’m all right. I am. It’s okay. Simon and I had some shit to sort out.”

“Can’t say we’re surprised about that.” Aaron snickered. “I think that’s going to be your lot in life for as long as you’re dating him.”

“I’m right here, Barker,” Simon growled as he took a seat next to her.

Turk followed a moment later, and sat down across from her, next to Bertha. He watched her thoughtfully for a long moment. “I apologize, Cora. I’m just worried. Nothing like this has ever happened in the history of Harrow Faire, and I am trying to protect everyone.”

“I know.” She poked at the ground beef with her fork. “I get it. It’s just been a rough few weeks. And I dislike it when people try to strong-arm me into shit.” When