Ringmaster (Carnival Series Book 1)

The magical Jolly Carnival is the only life Rilla knows—and it’s falling apart around her. Just as she’s thrust into the role of Ringmaster after her father’s unexpected death, an old family friend turns up to challenge her birthright. Her rival’s sexy son Jack isn’t helping either. Despite being a greenhorn and an outsider, he’s intent on charming everyone, convincing them all that Rilla isn’t up to the task of leading them through these tough times.

But Rilla must also contend with another threat—the ongoing sabotage that has been disturbing their delicate magical balance and threatening to destroy the Carnival. All signs are pointing to an insider, making it impossible to know who to trust.

To save her beloved Carnival, Rilla must do everything she can to find the saboteur before they attack again. But if she takes her eye off the battle for Ringmaster—even for a second—she risks losing everything she’s trained for her entire life.

5-star praise for Ringmaster:

Carnival magic!
“This book has everything I love – magic and mystery, excitement and romance…”

Captivating
“What a great story! Ringmaster had me hooked from the beginning…great characters…twists, intrigue…”

an excerpt from

Ringmaster

by Trudi Jaye

Copyright © 2014 by Trudi Jaye and published here with her permission

CHAPTER ONE

The red-and-white tent roof shuddered in the wind and rain. Ropes and canvas flapped, as if Abacus himself were objecting to his final resting place.

Rilla swallowed hard around the lump that had been permanently stuck in her throat since she’d been told of her father’s death. All around her were Carnival folk, their heads tilted upward, tears running down many faces.

It couldn’t be true. Her larger-than-life father was limitless, unbeatable. Certainly not meant to die in a stupid car crash.

Over their heads, Missy crawled along the high-wire rigging toward the top of the massive tent. The silver of her leotard sparkled under the lights, and her long legs clung to the ropes with an elegance that hid powerful muscles. Every pair of eyes in the tent watched as she completed the tradition that had been started three hundred years before, by the nine original families.

The ashes of almost every member of the Jolly Carnival who’d passed on were contained in one of the two huge round tent poles. They literally held the very essence of the Carnival. And now her bright and brilliant father was another collection of ash in the Carnival tradition.

Barb squeezed her hand; Rilla glanced at her and nodded. It was Barb’s daughter Missy up there doing the final ceremony, and she was glad it was someone who’d loved her father almost as much as she did. Rilla looked around the tent, trying to memorize the people. Everyone was there, from the newest greenhorn to the oldest hand, crowded into the massive big top. She knew every face in the room.

Rubbing at the tears running down her face, Rilla felt her anger flare again. She’d been keeping it at bay, but every so often, it burned its way up her throat. She wanted to shout at someone, hit them, cry out at the injustice.

It wasn’t right.

A violin began to play a slow, haunting melody. The tune hit the chorus and she recognized it. She tried to smile. From her other side, Christoph’s muscular arm clamped around her shoulders, and she listened silently to the rest of the ABBA song that Viktor was playing in slow time.

The song was a lovely idea, but her father would have hated the slowness. He loved the speed of the tunes by the Swedish band. He’d always said the tents went up faster to the beat of “Mama Mia.” And he’d always preferred the nickname Abba to his full name Abacus.

“He wouldn’t want you to be sad, little one,” said Christoph as he gave her another squeeze with his massive arm.

She looked up at him and took comfort in his familiar lined features. He was the strongman of the Carnival in more ways than one. “I know. But it doesn’t help.”

“No, it doesn’t. Come, we should go now.” Rilla allowed Christoph to gently pull her toward the tent flaps that would take them away from the crowds of people. His mustache twitched, and she knew he was trying not to cry at the loss of his friend.

As they walked out, a flash of blue hair caught her eye. A man stood near a side entrance to the big top, his expression a strange mix of anger and excitement. His shock of blue hair stood at attention on his head, and he wore a black shirt with matching black trousers. A ripple of unease washed through Rilla. The stranger caught and held her gaze. Then he turned and disappeared out into the storm.

Rilla frowned. She opened her mouth to question Christoph, then closed it again. Her father knew literally thousands of people. He’d been a big, charismatic personality who’d lived his entire life on the circuit. There could be any number of people she’d never met who could claim a relationship with him.

The blue-haired man might have seemed out of place, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t be there.

She glanced back up at Christoph as they neared the exit. For the first time, she noticed the grey hair mixed with the black on his head. Her father and Christoph had grown up together, lived their lives together. The big man had helped Abacus raise Rilla when her mother had left. He was going to feel the gap left by Abacus just as she did.

“Rilla, there’s a problem.”

“Pardon?” Rilla turned, trying to focus on the scruffy boy who’d stopped her. She blinked and recognized Joey, one of the younger runners.

“There’s a man. He says…” Joey trailed off as an older man strode past him, straight up to Christoph and Rilla. He pushed out his chin and glared at them both.

“My name is Blago Knight. I’m here to claim the title of Ringmaster.”

Rilla felt the world sway. If Christoph hadn’t been holding her up, she didn’t think she would have remained standing. The momentary confusion cleared and she blinked, looking at the man in front of her. Her gaze narrowed.

Who the hell did he think he was?

“You do realize this is my father’s funeral?” she said, her voice breaking in the middle. She cleared her throat and pulled herself together. She was the Carnival leader now.

“Of course I realize it, young lady. But it doesn’t change the fact that I demand to speak to the Nine. You must convene an emergency session.”

“You’ll have to wait, Blago. This isn’t the time.” Christoph’s voice boomed unnaturally loud. Every eye in the crowded room focused on Rilla and the stranger.

“I know the rules as well as anyone, Christoph. I have to announce my intentions to the Nine immediately or it’s too late.” He glanced at Rilla. “If you stand in my way, you forfeit your rights to the Ringmaster claim.”

Shivers raced across her skin as she stared at the old man in front of her. Bushy eyebrows covered bloodshot eyes, dark and fierce at their center. The lined face was surrounded by a seething mass of white, frizzy hair. He held a black cane in one hand and an old-fashioned bowler hat in the other.

How could he have a legitimate claim? She didn’t understand. She’d never even heard of him.

A knot of tension pushed against her temple, and a headache crawled across her scalp. She lifted one hand to her forehead and rubbed at it, trying to break up the pain that was bashing around inside her head. She just needed a moment to clear her head, time to think without this grief filling her up until she was ready to burst with the pain.

But rules were rules. “Come with me. It will be informal but enough to judge your claim and if you’re valid.”

“‘Course I’m valid. Just ask ol’ Christoph here. He’ll vouch for me.”

Rilla looked up at Christoph in shock.

Her oldest family friend nodded and she realized he’d used Blago’s first name a moment ago. Of course he knew him.

But how? And why had she never heard of this stranger? “Fine.” She looked around and gestured to the others in the Nine. They would meet immediately to determine his claim.

***

Rilla paced along the narrow aisle in her caravan, clenching and unclenching her hands. “How can someone I’ve never heard of have a claim? It doesn’t make sense,” she said.

Christoph lifted his head from his hands. “I’d never have thought…” He cleared his throat. “Abba… your father would never have expected him to come back. It was so long ago.” He lowered his head into his hands again and seemed to shrink into the small sofa in Rilla’s lounge area.

“What was so long ago? What is this all about?”

He looked up again, shaking his head. “He was in the show crew, probably would have been Showmaster instead of me if he’d stayed. But he was thrown out, thirty years plus three.”

“Thirty-three years?” Rilla stopped pacing. “Isn’t that…? He tried to stop a Gift?”

Christoph nodded. “Got himself and his family kicked out. Everyone back then was shocked, especially Abba. They were tight.”

“His whole family?”

Again, Christoph nodded. “Mother, father, sister—they all helped him. He fell for the Mark, interfered with her Gift.”

She’d been told, her father had drummed it into her, but she’d never really thought… The Carnival had thrown someone out? Left them behind to survive without the help of the group? “But surely…” She stopped when she saw Christoph shaking his head. “No wonder he’s pissed.”

“Listen, Rilla, he’ll have support from some of the older ones who’ve been rumbling that you’re too young to be Ringmaster and that you won’t be able to deal with the sabotage problem.”

“It’s not against the rules to be young.” She crossed her arms and glared at him. Her father hadn’t expected to die and leave her to run things at twenty-four years of age, but she was perfectly capable of doing it.

“No, just uncomfortable for some of the older ones to accept.” Christoph heaved a sigh and rubbed one hand over his forehead.

“And some of the younger ones.”

He shrugged. “You’ll just have to prove them wrong. You’ve been raised for this, Amaryllis Jolly. It’s your family name on the sign out front, your family that survived the wreck, and your father that’s been running the show for the last forty years. Don’t forget that.”

“I can’t forget it. But…” She rubbed her hand over her stiff neck muscles.

“Don’t doubt yourself, Rilla. This isn’t the time or place. You’re the acting Ringmaster until the Carnival chooses someone to lead. You’ve got an advantage and you need to use it. You need to prove to everyone, especially the Carnival, that you’re the right person for the job, and you’ve got to do it quick. Blago, he’s a smart man. He’ll take every advantage he can get.”

“How well do you know him?”

Christoph sighed. “He was one of the old gang. We were all tight when we were kids. But I’ve changed since then. Maybe he has too.”

Rilla took a deep breath. “The Nine accepted it pretty easily.”

“What else could they say? He’s legitimate, Rilla. Him and his son.”

“His son?”

“The fella that was waiting outside the tent. Tall, dark hair.”

Rilla shook her head. How could she have overlooked the son? It frightened her that she could have missed something so simple.

“Nah, he stood back. Let his da do the talking. Blago was raised Carnival. But the boy, he’s green and he looked it. That’ll count against him, no doubt there.”

Rilla nodded. Outsiders weren’t welcomed easily.

“Where are they now?” She had to plan, to figure out how she was going to fix this.

“In the food tent, where you should be.”

“I’ll get there.” It was her father’s funeral; of course she would be there. “How long do I have?”

“‘Til the end of our stay here. Three weeks. After that, we’re headed for the Compound with a new Ringmaster.”

Rilla nodded. Winter was almost on them; they were due a rest. “Has there been a Mark named yet?”

Christoph shook his head. “Maybe there won’t be. We’ll be busy dealing with this. Maybe the Carnival will give us a break.”

“We can’t count on it,” said Rilla. “Tell Joey to keep an eye out, and let me know as soon as something happens. We can’t lose focus just because we’re in the middle of a crisis.”

“Listen, Rilla, no one expects you to—”

“What? Do what I’ve been trained to do? This wouldn’t have stopped my father, and it won’t stop me.” Rilla banged her fist against the wall. Glass rattled in the ancient trailer, and she scowled. It might be the biggest trailer in the Carnival, but it sure wasn’t the newest.

“Christoph, what happened to the Mark he fell for?” she asked.

“Last I heard, Blago married her.”

CHAPTER TWO

Jack sat back and watched his father as he talked to Garth, who’d been introduced to him as the guy in charge of the clowns at the Carnival. It made it hard to take the guy seriously, with a job like that, but his father seemed absorbed in everything Garth had to say.

They were in the food tent, and everyone around them was talking, eating, and laughing, a real Irish wake-style event. He glanced around the room, taking in all the different people, trying to feel some kind of connection to them. There wasn’t a normal-looking one in the whole room. Eye patches, sequins, mohawks, dyed hair, no hair, giant moustaches, tattoos, leotards, big bow ties—all of it was on show. He felt nothing but mild embarrassment at being at a funeral for someone he didn’t know and anger at his father for dragging him there.

What hurt was that Blago was talking to Garth with an energy that Jack hadn’t seen in his father for a long time. His face was lit up, and he was using big gestures and smiles all around. He certainly looked nothing like the man who’d been walking around his home so listlessly for the last few months.

Jack clenched his hand. The last year, really, ever since Mom’s death.

The noise level dropped, and Jack saw movement by the door. The daughter of the old Ringmaster, the one his father was up against, had walked in. Rilla Jolly. She stood by the door, looking around. For a split second, she looked vulnerable, like she wanted to run. But then her face closed up and she straightened her spine and frowned at anyone who dared look her way.

Jack leaned back and assessed their competition. She was small with an athletic body and had sharp, intelligent features. Her straight, dark hair was cut in a geometric bob that showed off her high cheekbones and startling blue eyes. She narrowed those eyes and glanced around the room. Her gaze landed on Jack and he stared back, startled at her direct look. She didn’t smile, but nodded slightly to acknowledge him. When she noticed Garth next to his father, he could have sworn her lips tightened.

She strode down the alleyway between the tables, and the noise level increased again. Jack let out a breath. He kept watching her, trying to understand how she could be the one in charge of the whole Carnival.

Not for long, if his father had anything to do with it.

Jack turned his attention back to Garth, thinking of the look Rilla had given the Giftmaster. Perhaps there was more to Garth than he’d first realized. He tuned back in to the conversation.

“So I said to Jackie here, we need to pay a visit to my old family, to see if they need any help. Abba, he was a great man. He’ll leave a giant hole in the Carnival. There’s no doubt,” Blago was saying.

Garth nodded in agreement, his sharp eyes wandering over the people in the room as he listened to Blago. Then he focused on Jack. “How about you, Jack? What made you decide to come to the Carnival with your father?”

He asked the question mildly, but Jack saw the sharp look in Garth’s eyes.

Jack cleared his throat and glanced at his father, wondering what the right answer was. “My father convinced me it was the right thing to do,” he said vaguely.

His father had actually lied about his intentions and conned him into coming. That was the real answer. He’d ended up in the middle of Carnival-land with the crazy folk, when he really wanted to be at home, finishing up his latest textbook manuscript for his editor.

But he didn’t think Blago wanted him to tell them the truth.

“Did he tell you much about the Carnival?”

Again, Jack glanced at his father before answering. “A few stories when I was young.”

Blago laughed, a big belly laugh that echoed around the room. “The boy’s bein’ polite. I used to chew his ear off about the Carnival. He was the only one who wanted to listen.”

Jack frowned. Sure, he’d listened when he was a kid to stories of an enchanted Carnival and a wandering life. For a long time, Jack had thought it was literally a magical Carnival. He’d been devastated when his mother had told him it was like Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.

“It’s probably different actually being here, I imagine. Things are never the same as they are in the stories.”

Jack nodded and took a sip of the cider in his glass. “It’s very different,” he said, attempting some form of diplomacy. It was very different from the magical place he’d dreamed up in his head. Ripped tents, patched caravans, and as ragtag a group of people as you’d ever be likely to meet—that was the reality of the Carnival.

“We’ll get things sorted tomorrow. You’ll be able to help with the set-up, get a handle on how things are run.”

Jack nodded absently. What had he gotten himself into? What would his mother have said? He tapped his finger against the wooden table. It would have broken her heart and, at the same time, made her madder than a hornet. He half smiled as he envisioned his mother’s expression whenever his dad did something stupid.

And then an equally familiar ache reminded him he’d never see her face again. His frown returned and he pushed away the ache.

Jack pushed his hand through his hair, even now trying to think of a way out of this. His eyes wandered around the room. Why had his father wanted to come back here so desperately? Why had he missed this so much? He’d been better off in their nice, clean house with his wife looking after him.

But perhaps that was the point. Now that Jack’s mother was gone, there was no one looking after Blago anymore. He glanced at his father. Maybe that was what this was about.

He looked over at Rilla. It probably wasn’t fair to watch her so closely at her father’s wake. He knew what it was like to lose a parent, and it didn’t involve being particularly lucid this soon after the event. But she was sitting with the big-muscled man, Christoph, talking with her serious expression. She was one of the few in the room who looked unhappy to be there. A little lost even. He steeled himself against her. He couldn’t feel sorry for her; she was the competition. The sooner he could convince these people they were better off with his father in charge, the better it would be for everyone concerned.
***

Accepting the glass of cider Christoph handed her, Rilla took a sip. The familiar taste of her father’s brew caught her off guard. She blinked, the tears threatening to spill over. Wiping at her cheek, Rilla took a second, bigger sip. She would get through this.

“The wind’ll change on them eyebrows. Then you’ll be in trouble,” Christoph said.

“It adds character. The audiences appreciate it.” Her voice was low pitched and the tears were adding gravel to her throat.

“If you don’t scare them away first. Them eyebrows fluff up like a cat that’s cornered when you scowl.”

“Kids love a scary Ringmaster. You know that.”

Christoph nodded toward Blago. “Maybe you should be making the rounds as well. Them two are at it already.”

“It’s my father’s wake. I’m going to eat and drink and remember him as best I can.” Rilla scowled over at Blago and Jack.

Christoph’s moustache twitched. “He’d have sent you off to campaign himself if he was here. You know that better’n most.”

He was right. Her father would have been out there working the room, chatting to friend and foe alike. He could convince a crowd to follow him over a cliff. He’d often told a story where he had actually sold ice to an Eskimo.

But Rilla wasn’t her father and her talents were different. She was better at sitting and watching and listening. She learned just as much from a quick glance or an involuntary twitch as her father had from bluster and bullshit. She could—had been for years—organize everything, from the Carnival’s budgets to what and when the animals were fed.

You have to learn to take center stage, girl. I know it doesn’t come natural to you. But if you’re going to keep the Jolly name in lights, you’ve got to learn.

Her father’s voice rumbled inside her head. Rilla rolled her shoulders, trying to loosen the knots. Another sip of Abba’s cider and she felt her muscles relax. She glanced over at Blago and his son again. Garth didn’t seem to be paying undue attention to what the old show hand was saying.

His son, this greenhorn Jack, wasn’t paying much attention to Blago either. He was leaning back in his chair, hands around a glass of cider, watching the room from narrowed eyes. His face was partially hidden in shadow, but she thought she saw tightness around the lips, a line between his brows that indicated… something.

There was an aura about him that made her keep watching. He was tall, with dark eyes and an angled face that hid what he was thinking. Beside Blago, who gestured wildly, the son seemed motionless.

He was like a predator, a hunter assessing his prey.

Rilla shivered. Was that right? Did Jack, this outsider, see them as prey? She trusted her intuition, and right now it was screaming that she should run.

But she wasn’t in the jungle and running wasn’t an option. So she would do the next best thing: she would find out as much as she could about Jack Knight. Because Christoph was right. If there was a weakness in Blago’s claim, it was his greenhorn son, and the more she knew, the better armed she would be.

A light touch on her elbow interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s starting, Rilla. Look at Garth.” Joey crouched down beside her, his young face half covered by shaggy brown hair.

Her heart dropped and she turned toward Garth. Joey was right. Garth’s eyes had lost their white edges and were now totally black.

The Gift had started. A Mark had been found.

“How can it have found a Mark? We ain’t even opened yet.” Joey’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“The Carnival knows what it wants. It doesn’t have to wait for the Mark to come to us.”

“Does this mean we gotta stop the party?”

“No. But we convene first thing in the morning. Pass it around. Let everyone know.”

Joey nodded and raced off.

Rilla took a deep breath. Almost of their own volition, her eyes returned to Jack Knight. He was staring at Garth, who now had the all-black mirrored eyes that meant a Gift was in progress. He didn’t look comfortable, and Rilla wondered how much his father had actually told him. He was a greenhorn, after all. Perhaps they should have been more careful about what they showed him. Even though he was technically Carnival through his father, he wasn’t raised Carnival, and he was no different from any other Ordinary.

She watched Garth struggle with the change for a moment. It always took time for him to adjust to being able to see inside someone else’s head. However, Blago seemed to know just how to deal with him, and she let out a breath. Again, her eyes flicked back to Jack.

He was now watching her, his dark eyes filled with an intensity that stilled her breath and made her heart beat faster—just like a rabbit as it runs from a fox.

CHAPTER THREE

Jack sat down at a table in the big breakfast tent, scrambled eggs and toast on his plate. It was still quiet. Last night’s party had kept going into the small hours of the morning.

“That all you having, boy? You’ll need more than that to help you through the day.” His father placed his tray down on the table, eggs, bacon, and hash browns piled high.

“If I ate all that, I wouldn’t be able to move,” Jack replied, taking a bite of his eggs.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.” Blago took a big bite of the crisp bacon and chewed noisily.

They ate silently for a couple of minutes, until Jack spotted Rilla at the food table, collecting toast and coffee. “She’s not what I would have expected,” he said to his father, nodding in Rilla’s direction.

“She’d be knocked over in a high wind,” replied his father. “Don’t know what Abba was thinking, imagining a wee girl like that could be Ringmaster. Didn’t even work the room last night and had a scowl on her face half the time.”

Jack took a sip of coffee. “It was her father’s wake, Dad. Give her a break.” He watched as she headed in their direction and paused in front of the table.

He nodded. “Morning.”

“Morning. Mind if I sit with you?”

“‘Course not, girl,” said Blago, a smile on his face. “The more the merrier.”

“So what did you think of your first night back, Blago?” she asked as she pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Just like old times, my dear. Although, I had to go to bed earlier than I used to in the old days.”

Rilla nodded and took a bite of her toast. She glanced at Jack with raised eyebrows.

“It was interesting. I’ve never been to anything like it before.” Jack tried not to sound like he’d be happy if he never had to do anything like it again.

Garth ambled over to their table, a glass of fruit juice in one hand. He sat down, nodding at everyone. Jack’s heart started beating faster, the same as it had last night when Garth’s eyes had turned from being perfectly normal to the disturbing all-black orbs that were staring at him this morning. He’d only just managed to keep his cool, a distant memory of one of his father’s stories helping him figure it out. His father had put one hand on his shoulder and given him a meaningful look. It had only been later, as he lay in the too-short bed in their rickety borrowed caravan, that he’d realized the implications. If that one small part of his father’s stories had been true, how much of the rest of it was?

Even thinking about it again made him feel cold all over. The eggs he was eating suddenly tasted like sawdust, and he put down his fork.

A scrawny teenager, hair sticking up all over his head, arrived at the table. “Mornin’, Rilla,” he said, glancing around the table. He was clearly agitated, bouncing from one foot to the other as he waited for Rilla to acknowledge him.

“Joey, what’s the news?” she said.

“They put the Carousel up last night,” he said with barely suppressed excitement. “It’s a dragon.”

“What?” Rilla’s eye’s widened.

“Yeah.” He nodded, his face serious. “They were as shocked as you are now. But it was there, all right.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen a dragon, since… well, ever.” Rilla sounded awed. She looked… excited. There was a hint of a smile lurking around the corner of her mouth, the first sign of a positive emotion that Jack had seen on her face since he’d arrived. He leaned forward, studying her more closely. He was right. It did light up her eyes.

“There’s a reason we’ve never seen one, Rilla.” Garth’s voice was annoyed. “It’s a nightmare. Risky, rough, and downright dangerous.” He was staring at Rilla with his blank eyes.

Rilla turned to Garth. “Maybe. Or maybe it’s just what we need at a time like this. My father wouldn’t have been scared of a challenge like this, and neither should we.”

“It’s not going to be easy,” replied Garth.

“Can you imagine it?” Rilla’s eyes shone. “What did it look like, Joey? Was it fierce?”

Joey looked back up at her, a similar expression on his face. “It sparkled like a diamond, Rilla. You gotta see it. This is going to be one hell of a ride.”

Jack cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should have a look at the dragon?” he said. He was suddenly desperate to see if any more of his father’s stories had been true.

Rilla nodded. “Good idea. I want to see it too. Let’s go.” She stood up and looked around the table. Garth and Blago stayed where they were.

“You two go. I’ll check it out later, once I’ve finished.” Blago motioned to his half-eaten breakfast.

“Tami’s making me a smoothie. She’ll be annoyed if I leave now,” said Garth.

Jack stood and gestured for Rilla to lead the way.

***

“This is it,” said Rilla, gesturing to the ride in front of her. “The Blue Carousel—made by the Grimoulet brothers as a tribute to surviving the shipwreck.”

A beautifully maintained antique Carousel stood before them, bright and clean in the chilled morning air. There were intricate designs depicting scenes of the sea, and it was in tones of blue and white.

“The shipwreck?” This was a story he hadn’t heard.

Rilla turned to him. “Where it all started. Your father didn’t tell you?”

Jack shook his head, his eyes glued to the creation in front of him. “He talked about the Carnival. What he missed. The people. Nothing about a shipwreck.”

“It’s our foundation,” she said, turning back to the Carousel. “The original Nine were the only families to survive a shipwreck off the coast of New York in the late 1700s.” Her voice took on a musical rhythm, obviously reciting a story she knew well. “They were all coming to America to start a new life, and for most people on that ship, it ended in those stormy waters.”

She moved forward and crouched down to touch the mosaic at base of the Carousel. The shiny handmade tiles depicted an old-fashioned sailing ship hurtling through massive waves. Rain and wind and lightning surrounded it, battering the ship with the worst nature had to offer.

He looked closer and realized there were people drowning in the tiled waves.

Rilla’s eyes locked with his and he saw something swirling in their depths. A chill went down his spine.

“The small group of survivors was on the last three boats to be launched. Only one of the boats was actually a lifeboat. The other two had been put together by passengers from below-decks when they realized they weren’t going to get onto one of the real lifeboats. It was the middle of the night, and they became disorientated as soon as they pushed away from the sinking ship. Instead of heading toward land, they were swept farther out to sea, then along the coast. It was a simple mistake that saved their lives.”

“Everyone else died?” Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the images on the base of the Carousel. For a moment, he was convinced he could hear the screams of a dying woman amid the crash of heavy storm-tossed waves.

“Most of the boats crashed into the rocky reef protecting that part of the shoreline. They all lost their lives, drowning in the rough seas or smashed against the rocks. Our ancestors survived.” Rilla led him up the Carousel steps, undoing the safety chain that stopped everyday punters.

The Carousel’s thick central pillar was tiled in the blues of the sea, with mirrors and jewels adding an extra dimension and depth to the waves and ripples at its heart. The creatures on the Carousel’s poles all originated from the water, both real and mythical. Mermaids, dolphins, whales, and selkies watched him with jeweled eyes as he trailed after Rilla toward the back.

“And from there, they decided to start a Carnival?” Jack let doubt cloud his voice. It sounded like an intriguing tale they told the tourists. He didn’t need Rilla filling his head with more fantasy stories; he needed the real facts so he could help Blago win this competition for Ringmaster.

Rilla searched his face. He raised his eyebrows when she continued to stare.

She blinked and drew her own eyebrows together, her delicate scowl clouding her features, making her eyes darken and flash. But she seemed to come to a decision. “There was thunder and lightning in the storm that night,” she said. “It lit up the sky, giving them terrible glimpses of what was happening in the sea around them. They were petrified. People prayed to whatever gods they believed in, held on to whatever talismans they could find.”

She gestured upward and just at that moment, someone turned on the lights. Above their heads, an animated lightning storm erupted, creating a magical light show that somehow, even in the morning sunlight, created an eerie sense of being in the middle of a violent storm.

Jack shivered, his eyes returning to Rilla’s expressive face. He waited for her to continue.

“The boats didn’t make it to the shore. They were hit simultaneously by a tree of lightning that broke apart all three and threw the survivors into the water. The Nine families should have drowned. But one way or another, every person on those three boats made it to the beach.”

“What happened?” Despite himself, Jack was caught in the story. “How did they make it?”

Rilla shrugged one graceful shoulder. “Promises were made.” She trailed a hand along the tail of a mermaid, her eyes focused on the bright scales. “They survived the night and forged a bond none of them could forget.”

“But how? Who were they? Did they know each other?” Jack fired the questions at Rilla.

“Of the Nine families, five were part of a traveling circus. My ancestor Sunrise Jolly was the leader, the Ringmaster even then.” She gave him a meaningful glance that he ignored. “The other four families included the Grimoulet brothers—who built Carousels—an engineer and his sister, a chef and his wife and children, and a professional gambler.”

“That doesn’t explain anything. Something must have happened. How did they all make it to shore?” Jack placed his hand on the edge of a dolphin’s nose. It had been beautifully crafted, the lines graceful and the eye so real he was waiting for it to blink. It was even slightly warm to the touch.

He lifted his hand off the dolphin’s nose.

“It was a traumatic event. Like I said, promises were made.” Rilla gestured around her. “The Grimoulet brothers made this Carousel for the Carnival because they wanted to express what happened to them all that night. This was the only way they knew how to do it. They knew they’d been blessed. Some higher power had let them live, and they wanted to honor that.”

“A higher power? Are you saying God saved them so they all decided to become part of a traveling circus?” Jack was getting impatient. Rilla wasn’t telling him the real story, just mumbo-jumbo nonsense.

“It wasn’t like that,” said Rilla. Her face took on a closed expression.

He clenched his hand in an effort to keep quiet, but his impatience bubbled to the surface. “And what does all that have to do with the dragon?”

Rilla tapped the toe of her boot on the wooden floor of the Carousel. It was the only indication she wasn’t as calm as she appeared. She continued as if she hadn’t heard his question. “Soon after they began traveling the country, things started happening. Strange things. It took a long time to understand what it was about. But essentially, their lives, their second chance, was a blessing. One they had to pay for.”

“Pay for?”

“In Gifts. They began to help people they met along the way, grant their deepest desires, their secret wishes.” She moved forward again, her booted heels tapping on the wooden surface of the Carousel. “In return, the Nine families were able to live full and happy lives. For those of us still here—the descendants—we carry on the tradition but for our own reasons, our own blessings.”

She came to an abrupt halt, her eyes locked on the ride just ahead of them. “By the gods, he was right. It is fierce.”

It was a brilliant blue creature woven around a pole, its eyes red jewels and its serpentine skin sparkling under the lights of the artificial storm over their heads. The dragon looked almost real; even its eyes seemed to turn and stare right back at them.

Drawn by something he didn’t understand, Jack reached out a hand, only to have it slapped away by Rilla. “Don’t touch it!” she snapped. “It’s meant for the Mark and only the Mark can touch it. Anyone else and it will only make it harder for us to do what needs to be done.”

“And what needs to be done?”

“We make a wish come true.”