smiled and lifted Nina’s head toward the audience while people stared at her.
Georgs launched into an invented tale of her childhood in a distant land, and Celka struggled to convince herself that the people were staring at Nina and not her. What happened when bozhki toured the sideshow? People crowded so close, how could another storm-blessed bozhk see her and not suspect? Almost worse than that, though, some of the spectators ogled her like she was a piece of fresh meat, already bought and paid for.
When that first group moved on, she squeezed her eyes shut in relief.
By the time Georgs led the last group out of the tent an hour later, Celka felt as drained as if she’d been practicing on the wire all afternoon. She slumped on her platform. “Sleetstorms,” she said to Ivana, the sword swallower on the neighboring platform, “how do you do this every day?”
Ivana turned, eyes hard in her long face. “Not to your liking, Prochazka?”
“It’s just...” Celka unwrapped Nina from around her shoulders. She hadn’t expected the snake’s massive weight, either. “On the high wire, everyone’s so far away. They’re watching, but it’s different.”
“Don’t like being the freak on display?” Standing, Milan came barely to Celka’s waist.
Celka winced. “No, it’s just—”
“Does the attention offend your delicate sensibilities?” Ivana asked with a sneer.
Celka pulled Nina close again, like serpentine armor. She’d hardly spoken to these people before; why were they acting like her very existence insulted them?
Alesh, the ‘World’s Tallest Man’ who stood next to Milan to accentuate their height difference, snorted.
“What is it?” Celka asked. Several illusionists had come out of their tent, and everyone stared like she was a new and disgusting specimen of bug. “What did I do?”
“Climb back on your high wire.” Milan spit on the dirt at her feet.
“I can’t!” Celka said. “You think I’d be here if I could just—?” She snapped her mouth shut as she realized what she was saying.
Ivana stormed past. “The sideshow isn’t a fallback plan for the rest of us, Prochazka.”
Celka swallowed hard. “That’s not what I meant.”
Ausra, an illusionist about Celka’s age, glared at her, arms crossed over the bright sequins of her low-cut blouse. “Yes it is.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
GERRIT CLENCHED HIS fists behind his back as a Tayemstvoy private cranked the troop transport’s starter. The truck coughed black smoke and Gerrit retreated into sousednia, letting the icy air clear his lungs. Adapted to the pre-dawn gray, the sunlight blinded him, and the building storm tugged faintly against his spine.
Inside the transport—a boxy collection of boulders in Gerrit’s sousednia—Hana caught his eye, Darina’s wavery heat-shimmer at her side. Chained deeper in the transport, Branislav’s sousedni-shape fought his eternal battle against invisible attackers.
Gerrit swallowed hard. Captain Vrana had kept Gerrit out of that transport, but he knew the reprieve wouldn’t last. Gerrit’s family name saved him from being a test subject, but if Branislav imbued today and Tesarik and the Storm Guard General thought this monstrous process tenable, the Stormhawk would give them leave to push as they wished. They had his respect.
What does your father value more, Captain Vrana had asked when they last spoke alone, family or power? The question could have been rhetorical.
To save his friends and himself, Gerrit needed to imbue and prove his power. But sousednia still pounded against his senses, and Gerrit couldn’t risk handling enough storm energy to make something truly impressive—if he had any choice in the matter. The idea of being forced to imbue—or even being required to work with a high-Category nuzhda when he might lose control—terrified him. He didn’t want to wind up like Branislav.
The transport truck’s engine revved, and Gerrit snapped his attention back to his friends.
?See you soon.? Hana looked like she’d swallowed a fistful of bullets.
?Come back in one piece,? Gerrit said.
Grim, she nodded.
?You, too, Branislav.? Gerrit tried to sound like he believed it possible.
Branislav’s head jerked around. ?What??
?Branyek?? Hana grabbed his hand in sousednia. Branislav flinched then searched her expression, panicked desperation replaced by confusion.
Gerrit’s throat tightened. ?Branislav??
The transport lurched into motion, and Branislav twitched, lips skinning back from his teeth. Then he squeezed his eyes shut and focused back on Gerrit. ?No.?
?Branislav!? Gerrit stepped towards him, turning the step into a run in sousednia as the truck accelerated toward the fortress’ outer wall. Pain split his temples at the sousedni-dislocation, and he snapped back, sousedni-shape slapping into his true-form. It left him gasping like he’d been kicked in the chest.
In true-life, Gerrit tightened his fists until his knuckles