The Storyspinner (31 page)

Chapter 97

Rafi

Rafi could smell the marsh before he could see it. The stench of plants submerged too long in water tickled his nose with memories of pond scum and black mold. Still, Johanna urged him toward the swampy banks rather than to the bend in the trail.

“You’re sure this is where she wanted to meet you?” he asked Johanna as he slid out of the saddle.

“I’m positive.” Johanna followed him to the ground. “Pira and I walked through the entire thing. She could find her way like the trail was a paved road.”

Something splashed into the water. The marsh was dangerous enough during the day, but to venture into it at night when all the predators were awake? Suicide.

“You think this is safe?”

“I think we don’t have a better option.”

Rafi didn’t disagree. How could he? He saw a woman create a hailstorm of pebbles after another had frozen him with air.

“I don’t have Pira’s skills, but I have an idea.” Johanna worried her bottom lip between her teeth. “We’ll have to let Breaker go. He can follow the trail, and will undoubtedly run to safety. Vibora will be more likely to follow his tracks than believe we’d try to cross the swamp.”

“That’s because it’s crazy.”

Johanna shrugged. “What isn’t?”

She was right. They’d become part of a Storyspinner’s tale—complete with magical barriers and mind control—and Johanna was at the heart of it. The heir to Santarem’s throne was alive, was his betrothed, and he’d kissed her. All subjects he meant to talk to her about when they weren’t running for their lives.

“All right. Let’s go.”

Rafi slung one saddlebag over his shoulder, knowing he wouldn’t be able to carry more than that if they were slogging through mud.

Pressing his forehead against the white star on Breaker’s nose, he whispered a soft good-bye. He hated to send the horse away, especially when there was a good chance he’d never see the animal again.

Johanna found a branch, taller than she was, and waited at the edge of the swamp. “I’ll lead. You keep a lookout for
things
.”

Rafi didn’t need a clarification.

Chapter 98

Johanna

Johanna wanted to move faster, but her process was slow. She prodded the ground with her stick before taking a step in any direction. Rafi kept his sword in his right hand and his left balled into the hem of her shirt.

The weight was comfortable and reassuring. It was nice to know that someone was at her back.

They didn’t talk very much, afraid to attract predators, afraid to be distracted. Occasionally a splash sounded, and something big brushed past Johanna’s boot when she led them into a knee-deep hole, but otherwise the call of the potoo was the only night sound.

She focused on the black water directly ahead of her, made blacker under the half-light of Mother Lua. It was her single-minded focus that almost killed them.

Rafi’s hand tightened in her shirt, pulling her back hard enough that she smashed into his chest.

“Stop,” he whispered. “There’s something ahead.”

She felt his heart racing against her shoulder blade and knew whatever he’d seen was deadly.

“We’ve got to go backward,” Rafi continued. “Slowly. Make as little noise as possible.”

Backing up scared her just as much as going forward. There was no guarantee that the step Rafi took wouldn’t land them in a pool of mud that would instantly close over their heads.

“There’s a tree ten feet behind us. We’re going to climb it and . . .” He hesitated, and Johanna knew he was deciding the plan as he made it. “And stay there till it’s light.”

The water around her calves rippled. Something big swam toward them. She couldn’t make out the animal’s shape, but as it turned its head, a bit of moonlight reflected on a pair of eyes just above the water level.

Caiman,
she thought.
And if ther
e’
s one, there are probably many.

She followed Rafi, step for step. His arm stayed tight around her waist, his head swiveling as they backed away from the creature.

Off to their left they heard a near-silent splash, followed by another.

“We’re almost there.” But almost wasn’t close enough.

The first attack came as a hard bump against Johanna’s shin. She stumbled, and Rafi threw her toward the tree’s roots. Brackish water closed over her head and she thrashed, feeling something cold and solid against her palm.

Oh Mother Lua, help.
The water filled her mouth and she surged upward. Her head broke the surface, and her flailing arm slammed against tree roots.

“Climb, Johanna!”

She couldn’t see Rafi, but she hauled herself out of the water and onto the arching roots.

“Rafi!” Blindly she gripped the bark, searching for a fingerhold, a knot, anything to pull her body away from the creatures Rafi fended off with his sword.

She didn’t need it. A strong arm gripped her around the waist and boosted her to the lowest branch. Johanna caught it and swung her hips over like it was a trapeze. Dangling, she reached for Rafi.

“Come on!”

He took a few more swipes at the animals crowding around the tree’s roots, knocking one caiman back into the water when it tried to use the roots to propel itself toward him.

Grabbing her outstretched hands, he braced his foot against the trunk. Johanna used all of her strength, all of her body weight, to pull him into the tree.

She heard him gasp and felt something tug him back, yanking on her arms till she was certain they were going to pop out of their sockets.

Then he was free, scrabbling onto the branch beside her.

From their vantage they could see at least five caimans waiting below, snapping their empty jaws and growling at the humans invading their territory.

“Are you hurt? Did one of them bite you?” She traced his arms with frantic fingers searching for an injury. Her mind raced with the possibility of infections and of a dripping wound attracting predators of a different variety.

He surprised her by laughing. “I’m fine.” He covered her hands with his own, squeezing tightly. “It got my boot heel and yanked it clean off my foot.”

He held up a perfectly intact foot and wiggled his stockinged toes.

Johanna wanted to laugh, but the noise that bubbled over her lips sounded more like a sob. Tears immediately followed.

“Light, Johanna, I’m sorry.” Rafi pulled her tight against his chest, which was incredibly awkward as they straddled a tree limb.

“No, I’m sorry,” she cried into the middle of his chest. “I dragged you into a swamp in the middle of the night and almost fed you to giant reptiles.”

“Just think. It will be an incredible story to tell our grandchildren.”

Johanna raised her head slowly. “
Our
grandchildren?”

Rafi’s hands stopped drawing the soothing pattern on her back. He took a deep breath. “Oh, Johanna. I have
so
much to tell you.”

They found two branches farther up the tree that grew almost parallel, giving them a more stable place to spend the night. Rafi edged his back against the tree trunk, and Johanna sat between his legs.

His hands draped loosely around her waist as he told her everything. His grip tightened when she cried—the grief over the deaths of her family fresh and raw. It wasn’t that Johanna had believed her mother or Thomas had survived, but an unreasonable part of her heart had hoped. Johanna would never get a chance to set things right, to apologize to her mother for the words she’d said in anger.

Please, Mother Lua,
Johanna prayed silently.
Tell my mother I love her. Tell her I’m sorry. Tell her . . .

“Michael is safe.” Rafi whispered the promise against her ear. “He was brokenhearted, but between Dom, my mother, and our household staff, he’ll be well cared for.”

Johanna nodded, relieved at least in that.

“And then there is the matter of the lockbox from your wagon.” His hands traced down her arms, and he wove his fingers between her own. “Light . . . I don’t know how to say this.”

She felt his Adam’s apple rise and fall. He cleared his throat and described how Snout had found her mother’s body curled around the box.

“I knew it was important, so I brought it with me. Inside was a letter from
my
father. I recognized the seal and opened it. I’m sorry if that was prying.”

“It’s fine.” Johanna squeezed his hands, urging him to continue. “What did it say?”

“I have it here in my vest, and you can read it for yourself when it’s light enough.”

“Just tell me. Please?”

He didn’t speak for a long time, and the quiet made every muscle in her body tense like a bowstring.

“You
are
Princess Adriana. Arlo rescued you from the Citadel as it fell.”

She closed her eyes and pressed her head against his collarbone. It wasn’t new information, but it was verification. Hearing it from Rafi made it truer. And more awful.

“I already know. The people who kidnapped me, well, they’re
Keepers
.
You saw them use magic. You know it’s true.”

Rafi gave that little cough-laugh that held no humor. “I can’t deny it, but I can’t believe it either. Keepers are characters in your stories.”

“I wish that were all.” Without any of her typical eloquence or lyricism, Johanna laid out the details of her capture and the reasons why she was taken. “They’re trying to protect us from more people like Vibora—people who will try to enslave all of Santarem.”

“What do we do now?”

“We could go back to Santiago and hope all of this fades away.”

He took a deep breath like he was going to say something, but let it go with a sigh. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is what I
want
to do,” she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. In the darkness she could make out the strong shape of his jaw, and the perfectly straight line of his nose, but she didn’t need to see his face to know it would show disappointment. “But what am I
supposed
to do?”

“If what the Keepers said is true . . . if there are more people like Vibora and they’re in league with Inimigo and Belem . . .” He shrugged. “I won’t make that decision for you. If you choose to return to Santiago to be with Michael, I’ll go with you. If you choose to go to the wall, I’ll go too.”

“What would you do?”

He tucked her hair behind her ears, letting his fingers trail along her neck. “To save all the people of Santarem? You know what I’d do.”

And with that statement Johanna knew exactly what she
had
to do.

Acknowledgments

An author writes a story, but it takes an enormous team to publish a book. I owe a huge thanks to all the folks who made this novel happen!

My publishing team—editor Dani Young, publisher Justin Chanda, copy editor Brian Luster, designer Michael McCartney, managing editor Bridget Madsen, and the rest of the crew at Margaret K. McElderry Books—made my dreams come true! Thank you for encouraging me to stretch my characters and make this story into something
more
.

Without my fantastic agent, Jennifer Laughran,
The Storyspinner
would be a measly two chapters at the bottom of my WIP folder. Jenn picked my first manuscript out of the slush and stuck with me till I started writing what I love. Thank you!

So many writerly friends helped turn this pile of words into a book-shaped thing. I’m so grateful to Nicole Castroman who read every page at least six times, and her beautiful daughter, Sophia, for being my first teen reader. Jessica Lawson loved my characters and sent emails with slightly inappropriate subject lines exactly when I needed them. Lynne Matson and Diana Wariner offered incredible insight on how to fix this plot and make it sharper and more interesting. And to my awesome readers, Trisha Leaver (my very first reader ever!), Lindsay Currie, and Mary Waibel. Thank you, thank you!

Several noncyber friends knew about my secret wish to be an author and helped me along the way. Stacy Sorensen is the world’s best faux assistant and a better friend than I deserve. Jen Wegner, aka Perfect Friend, offered unflagging support from the very beginning. Lezlie Evans set me on the
right
writing path. Brynn Hansen lent me her name and enthusiasm.

My parents, Dave and Ardy Vallett, taught me to love reading and to never fear hard work. Thank you for
every single thing.
To my grandma, Edie Winkelman, for thousands of phone conversations and hundreds of sandwiches with chips on them. To my siblings, Lizzy Standiford, Joel Vallett, and MeChelle Anderson, and their spouses for cheering me on and keeping me sane. And to my inlaws and outlaws—Rick and Olivia Wallace, Brandon and Elizabeth Wallace, and Jarod and Brianne Stewart—for babysitting and for not going glassy-eyed when I start talking about books.

My little family has been so patient when I disappear into another world, and can’t hear them even when we’re in the same room. Thank you for loving me even when I’m not entirely present. To my husband, Jamie, for walking me through fight scenes and taking my work seriously. To my babies Gavin, Laynie, Audrey, and Adelynn for being everything I’ve ever wanted. Love you all!