Entering Sinta City feels a little like coming home. The circus’s main venue lies just outside the walls, and we’d all come here for shopping, worship, and entertainment. It’s a bright, open place full of marble statues, clear, cool fountains, soaring temples, and symmetrical architecture. The main bathhouse is almost as grand as the one in Fisa City, and the market is the biggest I’ve seen—a true agora, where people shop, talk, and scheme. The castle sits on a rise to the northwest, dominating the city. Since I avoid royals like the plague, I always steered clear of it. I guess that strategy got tossed out the window along with my freedom.
There’s a somewhat more satisfying commotion at the castle gate. A loud horn blasts two and then four times, for Beta and Delta Sinta. A moment later, people spill out of the barracks, cheering, grinning, and shaking fists.
The courtyard is enormous, as big as two city blocks, and paved entirely in white marble. A high, fortified wall with an imposing gatehouse rises behind us, its spiked portcullis slamming shut with a definitive clang. To our left lies a block of sandstone barracks. In front and to our right sits the castle itself. It’s huge—five levels high with thick marble walls and tall, arching windows, deep set to combat the heat. Decorated columns and domed arcades band the entire building. On the side overlooking a large wooded area beyond the castle, the arcades extend into tiered terraces gurgling with fountains and shaded by potted citrus and cypress trees.
The ornate structure glows in the evening sun, the slanted, orange-tinged light turning the white palace into a pearlescent, peach-colored jewel. It’s breathtakingly beautiful—and nothing like Castle Fisa. There’s warmth here. Castle Fisa is as cold as the Ice Plains lurking behind it.
A statue of Athena dominates the courtyard. She’s a different-colored marble, streaked with the rosy tones of the south. She must have been brought here. The soldiers filling the courtyard kiss their fingers and then touch her sandaled feet as they pass.
Wisdom and war. They could do worse.
We’re halfway across the courtyard when the castle’s main doors burst open. Four women run toward us, hiking up their skirts. There’s no mistaking Egeria, Jocasta, Kaia, and Nerissa—Griffin’s sisters and mother. The family resemblance is striking.
Griffin slides off Brown Horse and opens his arms. All four women jump on him at once, babbling like excited geese. They attack Carver next, and he stumbles under the onslaught. They greet Flynn and Kato with barely less enthusiasm before flying at Griffin and Carver again.
These people actually like each other? What kind of family is this? I turn away, a tight, prickly feeling spreading across my chest.
Egeria, Alpha Sinta, approaches me, her dark head cocked to one side, her soft-gray eyes inquisitive. I know it’s her because she’s at least thirty-five while the other sisters are both much younger. Then there’s Nerissa. She’s just plain old.
“Is this who you’ve found for us, Griffin?” Egeria asks, shading her dove-like eyes from the setting sun.
“This has a name,” I say frostily. “It’s Cat.”
“And she has claws,” Griffin supplies, winking at his sister. “So don’t provoke her.”
“It was not my intention to provoke,” Egeria says, smiling at me. “Welcome, Cat.”
I try to smile back but feel my expression twist into a dash of murderous, a pinch of maniacal, and a sprinkle of watch your back. Oops.
Egeria swallows hard enough for me to see her throat move. “Griffin set out to find Magoi to employ. What do you do, Cat?”
“Stay alive,” I answer. “I’m good at it. Are you?”
Her already-huge eyes get even bigger. I see her throat move again.
“Toughen up, Alpha,” I say sharply. Turning to Griffin, I ask, “This is your plan? Benign queen, implacable warlord?” I roll my eyes. “I can hardly contain my cynicism.”
Egeria responds first, surprising me. “Please do. At least until we’re inside.”
“Where’s Basil?” one of the girls asks. Kaia, I think—the youngest. “Did he confess?”
“Cat figured him out,” Griffin says. “She reads people. That’s why she’s here.”
Understanding flickers to life on their faces. It’s like watching the stars come out one by one at night. These people are so open it’s frightening.
“Where’s Father?” Griffin asks.
“Sleeping,” his mother responds. Nerissa has salt-and-pepper hair and a plump, matronly figure. Her arms look welcoming and soft. If I’d seen her as a little girl, I’d have wanted to crawl into her lap.