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Zara flipped them each a coin before I even moved. All the better, considering I’d left my purse in Zara’s ballroom. Heart hammering, I kept my eyes alert for any sign of my father’s horse.
The smell of human sweat and muddy canvas washed over us as we picked our way deeper into the city. Every horse that crossed my path made my heart catapult into my throat.
“I can make you forget your troubles, lass,” shouted a woman in a threadbare shawl.
I recoiled slightly, smelling the potent herbs without ever seeing them. “I doubt that’s possible,” I grumbled, pushing past the aggressive vendor.
As we walked, voices called out, selling everything baser desires might want. One man jeered at us, claiming we could be rich if we would only step into his tent for a moment. Though I felt safer on Corona, my leg was entirely too exposed this way, with strangers walking no more than a handsbreadth from my skin.
“Let’s walk,” I suggested, sliding off my horse.
I tugged Corona quickly down one lane, then another, as Zara hollered for me to slow down. Easy for her to say. Her life wasn’t about to go up in flames.
I shivered, despite the sweat trickling down my back, and gripped the reins tightly in my hand. “We need to find the horse sellers,” I said over my shoulder. “Or the buyers.”
Zara walked up beside me. “Are you familiar with how the black market operates?”
“No. But I assume the thief will try to sell Sol.”
A man passed us, leading two horses down the next lane. I followed him, hoping he might lead to the place horses were traded.
Zara hovered close behind. “Shouldn’t we ask someone where to find buyers in this place? I don’t wish to be here much longer.”
“Looking for a buyer?” said a scruffy man with neck tattoos poking out from a sweat-stained ascot.
“Yes,” I replied warily.
“What are you selling?” The man tilted his scraggly head forward.
“A horse.”
“Well, actually we’re looking—”
I cut off Zara’s words with a murderous look.
The way he studied our dresses made me squirm, but I lifted my shoulders and scowled.
“Romero is that way.” He lifted a lazy finger. “And you need an appointment.” The man tipped dangerously forward. “But you might want to consider what else you could be selling, señoritas.” He flashed a grin that sent disgusted shivers down my arms.
Eager to get away, I pulled Zara along, and we slipped down a winding alleyway in the direction the man had pointed.
“What if Sol has been sold? Do we steal him back?” Zara asked, no longer trying to keep her fears to herself.
“We’ll figure that out when the time comes.”
We asked a woman starting a cookfire in the dim of a single candle where to find Romero. She grunted and pointed. Then she stood and brushed her hands down her apron, waving us back.
“Why you want him?” she asked, her eyes lined with wrinkles from squinting in the bright sun.
“We think he has something of mine,” I admitted.
“That man has nothing you want. Go home. Leave this place.”
I glanced at Zara. “A horse of great value was stolen tonight. I must get it back.”
“Or what?”
Startled by the woman’s prying question, I blinked several times before words surfaced. “My family will be ruined.”
