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The man who’d exited stared unashamedly at Zara as he slid a blade back into the sheath at his waist.
Zara scowled at him and grabbed my arm. “Come on.”
She yanked me into the tent before either guard could catch us.
“Oy! Come back here!”
We dashed into the bright space, realizing the entire front room of this tent was empty, save for the rug and the elaborate chandelier. A guard stormed in after us.
Large hands brushed my arm, but I yanked out of reach, pushing Zara ahead of me through a second set of canvas doors. I stumbled over the edge of a plush rug and knocked into a thin table set with a tall vase of lilies. With a shout, I grabbed the table, but the vase toppled and smashed on the rug.
I looked up, aghast, hands moving slowly away from the intricately carved table. Three chandeliers lit the spacious room. A tall chair with twisting wood armrests sat before a wide desk in the center of the far wall.
A man sat there, tall riding boots propped on the ornate desk, dark brows lifted in mild surprise. His jet-black hair peeled away from a tanned face with a particularly square jaw that stole my attention for the briefest moment.
The guard stepped in and gripped my upper arm so tightly that I yelped. With a single lift of the seated man’s finger, the guard released me and stepped back through the canvas.
The man at the other end of the room titled his head and wove his fingers behind his head. “May I help you?”
I stared at the man in his shining dark suit, the very picture of wealth, and far handsomer than how I’d imagined the dealers of Puerta. There was something odd about his appearance, though, something I couldn’t place.
I opened my mouth to respond, but movement to my right startled me.
A peacock bobbed his head, unconcerned with our presence, and a bright red macaw walked back and forth on a perch near the man. My jaw opened wider.
I’d been dressed as that exact bird earlier this evening, though my torn attire now bore little resemblance to my original costume.
“Here to help the fly problem? Or just destroy my lilies?”
My mouth snapped shut and my brow furrowed as I glanced at the spilled flowers. Just then, Zara yelped and grabbed my arm. A leopard strolled casually along the far wall of the tent then flopped onto the rug, apparently at ease.
Thinking of my father when he attended horse auctions, I straightened my spine, steeled my nerves, and cleared my dry throat. “Señor Romero, I’m here for a stallion I believe was brought here tonight. Dun. Sixteen hands.”
The man snorted softly, sending a wave of irritation down my entire frame. I stepped past Zara and hardened my expression. As I moved, my leg slipped out of my altered dress. The man’s gaze flickered downward so briefly it might have been only a blink. My hand slipped to the torn fabric, attempting to close the slit.
“He was stolen from my family,” I continued. “He is to run in the races today, and we cannot lose him. We cannot—” I realized my blunder as soon as the man’s lips curled with a wicked smile.
There was something in that smile—aside from the way it made his face possibly the most attractive one I’d ever seen—that lifted the hairs on my arms. Never show desperation about something you want.
Oops.
He chuckled. “I have already sold the horse you speak of.”
My posture deflated as the air whooshed out of my lungs. Behind me, Zara gently took my hand. I stared blankly at the leopard, grateful my friend was holding on to me.
“He was truly a beautiful creature, well-bred and the picture of health,” the man continued as he examined his fingernails. “Quite a feat, considering he was handled by mortals.”
I glanced back at Zara. She mirrored my confused expression.
Picking up a paper from his desk, he stood and brushed the hair off his face, exposing his ears. I drew in a sharp breath. I could have sworn his ears were pointed. But his hair fell quickly back in place.
My tired mind was playing tricks on me. The faerie stories were just stories. Every year at Festival, the tales shifted a little, growing more dramatic to keep the people entertained. That was all they were, though. Entertainment.
Only those two beasts outside the city walls were not entertaining at all.
“Remember that story of the horse breeder?” I whispered to Zara.
Her hand squeezed mine.
