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ZULA

“ T here’s another wanted poster of you, right in the village center this time.” Issa leaned close, whispering the words as if the warm summer breeze would snatch them away.

“Is that all?” Zula asked, using a rag to polish the wood of her ukulele.

Issa took an orange out of her pocket and sat down, tossing it from hand to hand. “It looked just like you, Zula, complete with the blue-feathered hat and the ukulele. Maybe you shouldn’t wear the hat today and go with a disguise. They know who you are.”

Zula shrugged, determined to remain nonchalant as she tuned her instrument. “It was bound to happen eventually, but don’t worry, Issa. No one will catch me.”

Issa hummed and started to peel the orange.

The two sat on the rooftop of the local tavern, which offered a coveted view of the village, easy to watch who was coming and going. It was also where the tavern owner kept his garden, although the nearby palm trees waving in the summer breeze did little to protect anyone from the sun’s vengeance.

“Yes, you’ve never been caught, and yes, your magical ukulele will help you avoid the law, but doesn’t this job feel wrong?”

“Issa, your job is to scout, not worry about what might happen,” Zula said sharply. “Why don’t you head back to camp and leave the worrying to me?”

“That came off wrong. I’m not doubting your skills, I just want you to be careful. More of those wanted posters keep appearing, and you’re so reckless.”

“Reckless?” Zula laughed and strummed the ukulele. Music rang out, the perfect chord sending a shiver through the air. “I appreciate your concern, Issa, but nothing about thieving is safe.”

Issa nudged her. “You know what I mean. I also don’t like that the request for this job came from Scarred Joe and his rival gang. Why aren’t they taking on the danger of this heist?”

There it was again, that warning in her soul. Zula pushed away the dark thoughts that danced at the edges of her mind. It was too late to find her confidence wavering, too late to turn away from the path that was now set. “The danger is why they delegated the task to me, but Issa, you should get a head start. Scarred Joe’s gang is tricky and I’m sure they have an unpleasant surprise waiting for us. I need your keen eyes. Scout ahead and send me a message should you suspect anything.”

“What will you do if they double-cross us?”

Zula grinned. “They will feel the wrath of my magic. Now stop worrying.”

Issa smiled, visibly relaxing as she ate a slice of orange.

Zula turned her attention back to the streets of the village, trying to shake off her annoyance. While she liked Issa and appreciated her scouting ability, Zula preferred to work alone, and she had done so successfully until the wanted posters had started appearing.

Despite her legendary reputation, Zula had suddenly become aware that she had enemies. There had been a few attempts—laughably unsuccessful—that made her see the wisdom of working with a gang of thieves. They’d offered her scouts, protection, and weapons in exchange for a portion of the loot. Zula had only taken them up on scouting, and Issa had proven herself reliable in the past year.

Still, it unsettled Zula to be unpopular, especially when she was about to conduct the biggest heist of her thieving career.

Issa wasn’t aware, but there was much more on the line than a fat purse of money.

A dog barked, and a moment later, a tall young man strode down the street. Thick red hair sprung from his head, and he was dressed sharply in a white shirt and tan waistcoat. He had his hands in his pockets, his gait relaxed as he whistled, paying no heed to his surroundings.

An easy target to pilfer, if Zula was on the hunt .

Still, there was something about the man that intrigued her, but she wasn’t sure if it was the calmness with which he carried himself or the fact that he looked familiar. She racked her memory. Had she stolen from a lanky redheaded man?

She thought not, but she might have, or he could have been a patron at one of her familiar spots, although he didn’t look the type to hang out with thieves. Too soft. Too gullible.

She poked Issa. “See that man down there? Does he look familiar?”

“The redheaded one?” Issa stood, almost leaning over the railing for a better look. “I don’t recognize him, do you?”

Pressing her lips together, Zula shook her head. “No, I thought . . . never mind.”

Nevertheless, the thought nagged at her, and she remained still, watching as he rounded the corner and disappeared deeper into the village.