Nocturna (A Forgery of Magic #1)(75)

“You came home,” she’d said. Would he make it home again after this?

A loud munch broke him from his thoughts. Finn was chomping into an apple that he’d packed onto her horse’s saddlebag in case they got hungry.

“What’s my horse’s name, then?”

Alfie scratched her horse behind the ear and it leaned forward, pressing its head against his shoulder. He and Luka had trained with this horse as boys and it always acted like an overgrown kitten around them.

“I named your horse when I was a boy. He’s called Gassy.” Alfie patted the horse’s flank, relishing the sight of Finn’s mouth pausing mid-chew. “I’m sure you’ll learn why before the journey’s up.”

Alfie corked the canteen and swiftly mounted Peluche once more. “Let’s start slow now, give them a chance to recover before we speed up. We should get to the tower in half an hour, maybe less.”

Still grimacing at the horse beneath her, Finn nodded and they eased into a trot.

Finn was silent as they ambled down the path and he was grateful for that. He wanted nothing more than to run through the plan over and over again until they arrived—get to the prison, have Finn lay down the distraction while he waited nearby, then they’d get as close to Xiomara’s cell as they could before setting off the distraction. Once the guards around her cell left to investigate all the noise, they’d break in, get Xiomara under the cloak with Finn, and walk out of the prison. After they snuck Xiomara out would come the most difficult part. They would need to draw Ignacio to them, somewhere away from the city, kill him, seal the magic in the toy, and toss it into Xiomara’s void.

He repeated it in his mind over and over, like a chant. The only sound around him was the bristle of the breeze-kissed sugarcane lining the road.

Alfie touched his face, startling at the different features under his fingers. He would never get used to wearing Luka’s face. He couldn’t imagine what Finn’s life had been like, darting from identity to identity.

“That’s the best part,” she’d told him last night, but to Alfie it felt like not quite a nightmare, but a strange dream he couldn’t wake from.

“I can take it off you, if you want,” Finn said, motioning at his face. He hadn’t noticed she’d been watching him. “When I transform you into a due?o, I’ll want to start with a blank canvas anyway.”

Alfie thought on it. They were far from the city anyway. It wasn’t as if he’d be spotted, and if she was going to take this mask off him to change him into a due?o later, why not have a break for a moment and wear his own face? “Yes, please.”

As their horses ambled side by side, Finn looked at him intently and waved her hand. Alfie’s body tingled then and he felt himself shifting, his torso growing longer and slimmer, his nose drawing up slightly. Then it was over. He put his hands on his face and sighed into them. “Gracias.”

She shrugged. Silence reigned for a long moment before she spoke again.

“The way your brother died.” Finn gave a low whistle, shattering the silence. She shifted on her saddle, wincing as her backside bumped against it. “That’s something.”

Alfie’s jaw tightened. He was shocked by her ability to bring up exactly what he didn’t want to talk about. He looked away from her and focused on the green fields around him, the pound of his horse’s hooves on the dirt ground. “Yes,” he said through gritted teeth. “It was.”

“I remember when I heard the news of the assassination,” she said. “I was in a city far from here and people were still weeping in the streets, as if they knew him.”

The way she said that crawled under his skin. Whenever anyone spoke of Dez it was always with deep reverence and sorrow, but she said it so flippantly. “This bothered you?”

She shrugged before leaning sideways in her saddle to skim her fingers over the heads of the sugarcane stalks. “It didn’t make sense. They didn’t know him. I didn’t know him. Why cry when his death doesn’t affect me?”

Alfie squinted at her. “Of course who becomes king of Castallan affects you. You’re Castallano, you live here.”

Finn snorted at that. “People like me, we’re ants, and rulers are just a big foot looming over us ready to squish us into the dirt. Doesn’t matter whose body the foot is attached to, the purpose is still the same. Now it’s just your foot hovering over my head instead of his.”

“Is that how you really see us?” Alfie asked. “As something to hurt you?”

She gave a dry laugh. “What do you expect me to see you all as? Protectors of the people? Get the stars out of your eyes, Prince. Do you think the kids living with nothing, the ones thieving and begging, see you as a protector? You with your polished desk and your fancy magic.” She gave another loud snort. “The rich are born rich and die richer, the rest of us die early. You’re no protector. You’re just another foot waiting to grind us into the dirt.”

Alfie rubbed the back of his neck. He knew that there was poverty and unrest in his kingdom. That was everywhere. He wasn’t so naive as to think otherwise. But still, it was hard to swallow. When he heard Finn speak, every glorified idea he had about his kingdom cracked and crumbled—nothing but a gossamer shell to hide the flaws within. The motto of his kingdom, magia para todos, magic for all, suddenly rang hollow.