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ZULA

L ips burning, Zula ran into the jungle. The dirt gave way under her slippered feet, palm leaves slapped her in the face, and vines snatched at her as though warning her it was futile to run. Great sobs tore from her throat, but she kept running, despite the jarring pain shooting up her leg.

Neo. The prince, tasked with keeping the kingdom secure, had kissed her. A nobody. A legendary thief whose punishment should have been death. She hadn’t deserved that kiss, shouldn’t have leaned into it, opened her mouth, inhaled him, enjoyed it with every fiber of her being.

Her heart said yes while her head still tried to fight it. What Neo argued made sense. How long would she last in hiding without a job to do, without a task, a heist to keep her busy? Realistically, leaving the business of thieving and lying low was wise, but she couldn’t do it. All her life, she’d run from the norm, from the shabby hut where she’d lived with her father, foraging the jungle, hunting dangerous animals, and making a living out of the hard, unforgiving ground.

She’d found moments of happiness playing her ukulele and watching the merchants navigate the jungle. Then, it had started ever so innocently. A small sack fell off the back of a wagon. She snatched it up and ducked back into the forest before anyone noticed, her heart pounding from the thrill. When no one came after her, she opened the sack, finding it filled with sweet cherries, the most delicious she’d ever had.

She still recalled bringing them home and sharing her findings with her father, the awe on his face, and the wonder at what she’d accomplished. Euphoria ran hot through her body, a swell of pride, and then she was hooked, unable to stop. Next came the ukulele, and she discovered that when she willed it, those in opposition to her would fall asleep. Their magical slumber allowed her to take on bigger tasks—sneaking into pirate lairs, filching treasure from unsuspecting lords, creeping into treasuries and finding her way out before the guards awoke.

Stealing made her feel strong, leaving her calling card—the blue peacock feather—brash and bold. But the higher she ascended, the more fame she claimed, and the more complex the heists, the emptier it felt. Something was missing, and she didn’t know what.

Then along came Neo.

She’d bumped into him before—three times, she now clearly remembered. But why her?

The pain in her ankle rose to an excruciating level, and she sank down, wrapping her arms around herself and rocking back and forth. The tears were gone, but her foot throbbed. She’d damaged it deeply, impeding her own escape.

Was escape what she wanted, or a moment to clear her mind? To sort out the next steps of her life, determine what to do about the queen’s request, Neo’s offer, and her own heart. What did she want? Because right now, she was having a difficult time distinguishing between high, strong emotions and sound reason.

Regardless, she recognized one truth: Neo had power—true power and influence. She was nothing without her ukulele. She had to return for it, and she would not get far with a lame foot. Going back was the wisest option. But first, she had to figure out what to say to Neo.

Wiping the evidence of her tears off her face with the back of her hand, she rose, balancing on one foot as she squinted into the darkness. All challenges could be overcome, and out in the jungle, all she needed was a study branch and a vine to fashion herself a crutch. If Neo wondered why she was gone so long, she had an excellent excuse.

A cocky grin split her lips, immediately dropped when rough hands grabbed her and jerked her backward. Zula slammed against the bark of a tree, banging the back of her head against it. Her vision went blurry, and as she blinked, she saw a slender man, no taller than herself, standing far too close. She smelled the smoke on his breath, a hint of sea air, and because of the light he was carrying, made out the bandanna wrapped around his face, his crooked teeth, and the scar that ran from his eye to his chin.

A shudder went down her spine.

“Not so brave without your ukulele, are you?” the man leered.

She cringed, his name heightening her discomfort. Scarred Joe.

“You’re the one who asked me to steal from trolls,” she wheezed. “What are you doing here, so close to the palace?”

“You did not fulfill your end of the deal.”

Zula bristled. “I was set up by the sheriff.”

“So the rumors have spread. The sheriff is immune to your charms, and the legendary Blue-Feathered Bard has had her wings clipped at last.”

Bile rose in the back of her throat. This was one of her biggest fears, that if caught, her reputation would be tarnished. She’d be alone again, just like she had been when she’d lived with her father, deep in the jungle. Just the two of them. Scarred Joe was baiting her with fear. It wasn’t new knowledge; she’d always known what would happen if she failed. “What do you want? Why are you here?”

He grinned, showing off those rotten teeth. “I came to spring you from the trap, set you free so you can finish the job you started.”

Odd . “Why? It’s incredibly risky for you to be here tonight. Besides, if you’re so keen on the jeweled egg, why don’t you steal it yourself?”

Scarred Joe studied his fingernails, lower lip out as he considered her words. “I could, but it’s much better if the Blue-Feathered Bard finishes the job and ignites a war across borders. I have other places to be, chaos to brew. You do your job and I’ll do mine, or you know who will pay the price.”

The price. The words echoed in Zula’s mind. She’d thought no one knew about that, the price she’d been paying ever since she became a thief. It hadn’t started as innocently as it sounded, and she’d worked hard to rise to the top. Sure, she’d gotten a little careless and thought herself invincible because of the ukulele. But Scarred Joe’s words insinuated something deeper, darker, and more frightening than anything she’d ever known. So she said the only thing she could. “I don’t know what you mean. ”

“Sure you do,” he sneered. “But I don’t need to explain to you. You already know the result of your failure. Do whatever it takes to finish the job. You have three days, or your share of the treasure will be forfeit. You know what else will be forfeit.”

He backed away, disappearing into the jungle as quickly as he’d come.

Zula didn’t let herself think, didn’t let herself wilt under the weight of what he’d said, what he knew about her past. Hands out, she blindly groped for rope and stick. Finding both took a matter of moments, and then she was limping back to the masquerade, the music guiding her, drawing her onward.

Her gut wrenched as she moved, the pain in her ankle replaced with dread. She wanted to warn the crown, warn Neo, without damning herself. She didn’t know what Scarred Joe had planned, but if he knew about her past, he might know where the other six relics were stored.