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ZULA

T eeth clenched, Zula leaned low over the horse. It was barely a relief to be off her throbbing foot—the jarring gallop of the horse still rattled it. She should have taken some time to wrap it up while she was in the jungle, but it was too late now. Far too many pursuers were behind her.

She hadn’t quite figured out how Neo— that dratted sheriff— had caught up with her so quickly. But there he was, a beautiful red blur on the edge of her vision. She hadn’t been able to figure him out, especially because she’d played the ukulele and he hadn’t fallen asleep. Why not?

A chorus of furious shouts exploded behind her, calling for her to stop in the name of the law and return the stolen horse. The latter she fully intended to do once she lost her pursuers, although she wasn’t sure who was chasing her. Neo’s people?

Which led her to her next dilemma. Where to go? It would be no use to head toward Scarred Joe’s den of thieves. Legendary reputation aside, while the thieves wouldn’t slit her throat, they’d make her life hell under the assumption that she meant to lead the law directly to their doorstep.

But if Neo caught her, it would be much worse. Zula’s fingers brushed her neck. She enjoyed her freedom, and the idea of it being taken away made her chest tighten. Everything was a challenge, a fight, and her talent usually allowed her to escape unscathed. She was resourceful and quick-witted. Her skills had gotten her this far, so she needed to rely on them to carry her through to a satisfactory ending.

Gripping the saddle with her thighs, she slowed the breakneck pace of the horse. She’d assumed it would have been grateful for a reprieve, but it slowed reluctantly, likely because of the thunder of pursuers behind her, egging it on. Swinging her ukulele around, she checked her balance, then strummed a few notes.

Music flowed through her fingertips, slowing her heartbeat. She leaned into the lulling effect, plucking a few more notes, calming the beast beneath her thighs. Music soared from the ukulele, the notes coming easier and faster. Her fingers flitted up and down the neck of the instrument, and her picking grew bolder. The roar of horse hooves no longer echoed behind her, and the sounds of pursuit faded away.

The horse slowed to a stop, but she dared not look behind her. Instead, she gave the music her all, letting magic flow from her fingers, filling her will, her being. No one would follow. No one needed to follow. She was invisible, insignificant, like a grain of sand on the shores of the beach, indistinguishable from any other.

The skill had come to her by accident, the instrument gifted to her by her father, who believed she needed something else to do with her hands and the relentless energy that poured from her. They had lived in the jungle and she was like the monkeys, always chattering and swinging from tree to tree and landing herself in a heap of trouble.

Playing the instrument had initially kept her out of trouble, but then, one night, she’d been swept away with emotion and played her heart out, sending the jungle to sleep. Not a monkey moved, her father snored louder than ever, and she was alone.

That was only the beginning, but she had found ways to control her newfound skill. A knee-slapping, feet-stomping ballad in a tavern would rouse the crowd instead of sending them to sleep, but a low, emotional song played in a minor key would lull her audience to sleep, making them easy pickings for thievery.

Becoming a thief hadn’t been her goal in life. She and her father had lived a simple life deep in the jungle, less than a day’s walk to the kingdom’s border. They had no title and lived off the land, navigating the more treacherous areas of the jungle with skill. In fact, her father’s reluctance to leave the jungle had made her suspicious. What was he afraid of?

In contrast, Zula was bold. She wasn’t afraid to walk into a tavern, to have all eyes on her as she played and sang. She enjoyed hearing her name on the lips of strangers, and when they titled her the Blue-Feathered Bard, she made a hat and continued to spread the legend further. It was comforting to know that if she changed her appearance she could hide, but being known as the Blue-Feathered Bard made her feel invincible, and it was a feeling she didn’t want to lose.

But she would if she were caught. There was more, much more that she’d lose, and she couldn’t let that happen. So she calmed herself, controlled her emotions, and released the magic of the ukulele.

Silence reigned behind her as she strummed the last note.

Taking a deep breath, she twisted on the horse, willing herself to see what the magic had done. Sure enough, behind her was what looked like a row of statues. Horses with their heads down, riders slumped over their backs. Asleep.

Zula grinned and straightened up as though a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. This was why her legend preceded her. She was free to escape, to deliver the treasure and win the largest payout of her career. Even the pain in her ankle had faded.

She lifted the reins, only to groan as she realized her mistake. The magic of the ukulele had sent her mount to sleep, and it would be at least an hour before it woke. From experience, she knew her song induced the sleep of the dead. There would be no awakening anytime soon.

Which meant she had to walk.

With a scowl, she dismounted, grimacing as her sprained foot hit the ground. She hopped on one foot as she reached for the sack with the egg.

A blur of color bowled her over. There was a sickening crack as she landed on her ukulele and a sharp pain went up her back.

“I arrest you in the name of the crown!”

Zula meant to throw out an elbow, but Neo had caught her by surprise. He maneuvered her down on her belly and yanked her hands behind her back. A mewl of pain and anger escaped her lips as rope tightened around her wrists .

Then his mouth was near her ear, and he whispered, “I caught you, Zula. No more games. No more running away. It’s time to face the consequences.”