Page 31 of Untamed

I love you and miss you. Today I travel on a mission with much promise. It brings me closer to you and closer to uncovering our mutual enemy. You make all this toil worth it.

Sincerely,

Your Prince Zichri

I didn’t want to use my gift. But if I continued to refuse, Zichri and I might never see each other again.

Chapter 13

Beatriz

“I expect more fromyou this time.” Papá propped open the parlor door and gestured toward the opposite side of the room.

Rather than yellow rays of sunlight cutting through the space, a dull white glow seeped from the windows. I stepped toward Uncle Uly who sat in the far armchair in the corner again. Papá fled the room and my lessons. Didn’t Uncle Uly say he’d speak to Papá for me? Should I assume the conversation was a failure or never occurred?

“So, you’re stuck pretending to give me lessons?” I stood before my uncle and refused the common greeting. “And the conversation with Papá?”

“We’ve come to an agreement.” Uncle Uly smoothed his beard. “You give me a month, and he’ll set you free.”

This was not a win, and time continued to tick by with only letters to look forward to reading. I pouted.

Uncle Uly chuckled. “Are we to be enemies?”

I crossed my arms, ready to disperse the next set of jabs I had planned out in my mind.

“How about a walk through town?” Uncle Uly grabbed his staff and pulled himself to a standing position. “I’d love to treat you to something delightful.”

My tongue stumbled. I had expected a retort or explanation but not a mundane invitation.

“You won’t have to use your gifting.” His shoes thumped across the hardwood. “We can stop at the bakery along the way. Unless that sounds too exerting for you?” His bushy eyebrows waggled, daring me to reject his offer.

My gaze narrowed. “Is this a trick?”

“Of course, it is.” He laughed. “But I promise, you get to choose how or if you use your gift.”

The sincerity in his response comforted me, though I disliked that he had ulterior motives. But wasn’t it better to know the other’s intentions than to be surprised by hidden motives? I strolled alongside my uncle through the parlor door and out the front entrance. A gray slab of clouds promised rain, but not a droplet fell from the sky. Guards opened the front gate to a bustling cobblestone plaza. The wide-open square had many tents propped up along the edges where vendors sold water jugs, trinkets, fruits, and cloth. Many bystanders snuck glances in our direction, but no one bothered us besides a child who grabbed my skirt. He yanked on the turquoise fabric with dirt-caked fingernails. I glared down at the floppy-haired boy.

His brown eyes were like pools and his gap-toothed smile was quite endearing. “Are you the mean princess?”

I flinched. The frank question had no malice. It affirmed my fear about how others perceived me, but the child’s gentle gazeheld no insult. “Yes, but I have a secret for you.” I bent down toward his ear. “We’re going to get a treat, and my uncle will buy you something from the bakery up ahead if you accompany us.”

Uncle Uly chuckled and waved his hand in front of his nose. An aroma drifted in the air from somewhere beyond the square.

The boy rubbed his hands together and licked his lips. He stayed by my side as we continued our walk. Now, my uncle couldn’t require me to use my gifting no matter what. He wouldn’t dare risk a child’s life to teach me a trick or two.

Uncle Uly glanced at the boy. “What’s your name?”

“Juancho.”

“And what is your gifting?” Uncle peeked over his shoulder at me, but the question was for Juancho.

“I haven’t got one.” The boy kicked a rock. “There’s no one to take me to my whyzer, and my whyzer hasn’t come. I think it’s because I haven’t got a home.”

The child had to be five or six years old. Most children received their gifts when they were younger unless they were destined to possess a powerful gifting.

A carriage rattled by, drowning out the next portion of Uncle Uly’s and Juancho’s conversation. We squeezed in front of a miller’s shop where a line of people had gathered. Then, we crossed the road. A woman flew through the air, pinning clothes along a wire between flat-roofed buildings. Trails of blurred air emanated from her.

“Is that so?” Uncle Uly stopped below the bakery sign hanging overhead. A yeasty aroma drifted from the doorway and woke up a hunger that should have been sated by my breakfast.

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