FIVE

.....

For the next few weeks, no matter my workload, I waited for Ryon to pull up outside the Capitol Building rather than walking home. We always took the long way back to the house, and each time, despite his insistence that there was no need, I paid him a gold coin. At first, we kept the conversations civil, debating about half histories and truths in Rosada, discussing stories and rumored magic, and conversing about what Captain Oberland had me write. Sometimes, Ryon’s innate curiosity persuaded me to tell him everything, even things belonging to government eyes only. But he was right. So much of it was preposterous.

I was the first to open about my personal life. As a thick mist wove its way through the city one day, I told Ryon how my father died during Death’s Grip.

“What’s Death’s Grip?” He asked.

“I suppose you don’t have it here. In Volfium, it’s when the fog grows so thick, you can hardly see it. They say that is when Death comes to release the souls into oblivion.” I held my hand out in front of me to catch the fog, “I hope that means Papa is at peace.”

“Were you close with your father?”

“Very.” I told him about how my father used to tell stories, venturing to the local tavern where his tales would come to life. Papa educated Elodie and me, taking us to the different taverns in the cities to learn about others, and hear their tales. Ryon listened eagerly, his eyes wide with interest.

I suppose Stilette seemed like a fantasy to him.

“My father’s the one who taught me tap-code… for the telegraphs,” I added. Tap-code, overall, was a rare skill set. Most people still resorted to the old pen and paper.

“You know tap-code?” Ryon gawked. “That’s amazing! I always wanted to learn.”

“I can teach you.”

His face cracked in two with a smile.

The next few days, I taught him the tap-code alphabet, giggling as I produced the shrill beeping noises of the taps.

.-. -.— —- -.

“Ryon.” I said, “That’s how you say your name.”

“That sounds attractive.” He repeated the noise. “And what about you?”

-. .- -. . - - .

“That’s it,” I whispered.

He recited it slower, “Beautiful…”

Despite our camaraderie, Ryon didn’t tell me much about his personal life at first. He focused more on babbling about different buildings and histories or learning tap-code… or about me.

Until a few days later, when Ryon arrived thirty minutes late for our rendezvous. He apologized, flustered, and we rode in silence. 

I pried, “Ryon? What’s bothering you?”

He glanced at me. “Oh, don’t mind me. You don’t need to hear about my messy life.”

“I want to, though.” I placed my hand on his warm, rough arm.

He stared at me for a moment, then slowed his white horse to a steady trot. He sighed, “Family problems. You know. Family is great until they decide things for you.”

I nodded. My father never made my decisions directly, but he always held me to a certain standard. Then, of course, there was Elodie, who tried to dress me like a doll. 

Ryon licked his lips and continued. “Money’s been tight. I live on a farm a bit away from here with my ma, pa, and sisters in a two-room farmhouse. But Pa’s frustrated I keep taking a horse each day to run, and I quote, ‘a profitless business to woo the rich and make shit money.’” He gripped his reins tighter. “He wants me to work on the farm. Forget about this cabby business... cause he seems to think I’m out here mingling with a bunch of fat cats. But... I love coming into the city and doing this job! I get to talk to people and learn about history and see people and sights. And I love—” His eyes met mine, and his cheeks burned, “I love spending time with my patrons, like you. Not that I have a lot, but...” his voice trailed.

I squeezed his arm. “Well, I don’t want you to go away. I look forward to this ride home every single day.”

Ryon tensed beneath my grip, then shook his head, “Pa doesn’t care, and unless I find a good reason or start making more coin, I’m gonna have to stop these joy rides. Pa says the cost of bringing a horse and buggy to the city isn’t worth it when we could use it on the farm and everything. Plus, my medicine is getting more expensive and…”

I stopped him, “Medicine?”

He scowled, realizing what he said. “It’s no big deal. I get blood-sugar issues. At least that’s what the apothecary said when I was a kid. Need to do injections and such to keep myself from going into shock. Kinda pricey, though…”

I touched his arm. “And your dad thinks keeping you on the farm will…do what exactly?”

“Save us money. Think he wants to make sure I’m healthy, too, though. But I don’t want to be my illness, you know? I’m more than that.”

“Do you have any other skills so you can work in the city instead and become more independent?” I asked.

“Not really. I mean, yeah, I can write and read, but you gotta have connections to get a job with that. Can’t do much manual labor.” He shrugged, “The cabby job is good… There’s just a lot of us, and locals have their favorite cabby. I’m not that with most people.”

“You’re my favorite cabby.”

He flushed. 

“But…” I pondered, “I guess we need to find you more patrons... or connections.”

“Pa’s about to go off like a pistol, I think. He won’t let me take the horse much longer unless I bring in a handful of coins soon.”

“Let’s try, though. Please. I want to help.”

“Alright...yeah. That would be nice.” 

We shared a smile.

For the rest of the trip, Ryon returned to his usual loquacious nature, talking about how a group of Guards vandalized a wall in a mountain town. He spoke with lust about the mountains, with awe about the plains, and with complete fascination about the sea. Nothing deterred his interest. If he knew how to tell a story, he would have been a marvelous storyteller. 

But in a nation that prohibited storytelling, the talent belongs to a select few.

He pulled up in front of Elodie’s house, and as always, helped me out of the buggy. For a moment, we stood in the yard in silence, staring at each other. Did his heart flutter like mine? What did he want from me?

Did he share the same desires?

Ryon scuffed his shoes against the grass and rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, um, have a good evening, Nanette. I suppose I will see you next time.”

I grabbed his arm before he turned. “Wait.”

He froze.

“Tomorrow, I have off. We could...meet up if you would like? We could discuss finding you customers or a job...make a plan, of sorts.” Heat rose in my cheeks, but my stomach churned. What if he said no? Would I never see him again?

But he grinned at me and said, “I’d like that very much.” 

 

I waited on the porch, swaying back and forth in a dress Elodie forced upon me. Once she found out I had a date, Elodie fussed over my appearance, giddy as ever about the prospects that her little sister might finally come upon a suitor. With Marietta to tame her, we found a decent outfit. It highlighted my curves without being too promiscuous. 

When Elodie asked me for my date’s name, I lied with a commonplace name: John. Elodie had vocalized her distaste for Ryon on multiple occasions to me, often making a point to avoid his buggy. I am sure if she knew that Ryon and I were meeting, steam would have poured out of her ears. 

As I stood on the porch for Ryon, with the late summer breeze stroking my hair, a thousand thoughts raced through my head. What if he didn’t come? What if he was only being nice? What if he didn’t like me like that?

But I’d seen the way he smiled. I wasn’t totally aloof, right?

At exactly noon, Ryon rounded the bend on foot wearing a handsome brown suit. He trimmed his patchy beard, and his red curls lay matted back against his head. He raised a hand to greet me as I raced over to the edge of the property.

His face turned red. “Nanette, you look like a sunset.” 

“And you look pretty good for a barn.”

“That’s getting old.” He rebuked.

“You love it.”

He smiled. 

I laced my arm through his arm, and in the most cordial fashion, we walked towards the city. He decided not to bring his buggy to avoid his father’s anger, but I didn’t mind. It gave us a chance to talk, to giggle, and to whisper stories. We didn’t really talk about his job prospects much. Instead, we talked about minuscule things: our favorite foods, our hobbies, and just...our lives. He was a stunning man, really. He had this jovial nature not yet worn away by the city, and when he laughed, I swore the wind tried to steal it.

Ryon took me to a café in the heart of the Capitol, right along the perimeter of the Gallery. We ordered a couple lemon cakes and tea, then sat in awkward silence as we picked at our meal. It hit me like a storm. This was the date. Not the walking. Not the rides in his buggy. Here, at the café. Right now. 

Eventually, Ryon looked up from his half-eaten cake, “You really are as stunning as a sunset.”

I grinned to myself, then said, “Well, you’re quite the looker yourself.” 

“I didn’t expect you to be like this, though,” Ryon said. “You’re such a good listener and thoughtful. When I first met you and found out you were Ms. Lieu’s sister, I was shocked! She’s so—”

“Stubborn?” 

“Yes, that’s a good word for it.” He laughed.

“She has always liked order and things and gossip. I think that’s why she liked the Capitol. Our home, Stilette, isn’t as orderly or pristine. We have magicians in the streets, storytellers—”

“In the sheets?”

“What?”

“Storytellers in the sheets, instead of the streets.” He turned red, still smiling.

“Mr. Barnes! That’s a lewd statement!” I kicked his ankle.

“Ow! Sorry!” 

I stuck my tongue out at him. 

“Sorry, really. Go on. Please,” He leaned forward on his elbows, “I want to hear about your life in Stilette. It sounds wonderful.”

“There’s not much to say. It was a city on stilts, filled with smiles and performances... and stories. So many stories...” I trailed off, staring at the people walking past the café with their heads down and eyes solemn. “I miss the stories.”

“You mean the ones not sanctioned by the government?”

“Exactly.” 

Ryon glanced around a few times, then leaned across the table, whispering, “They’re not gone, Nanette. I can show you.”

“Aren’t we supposed to be job hunting?” I teased.

“Eh, we got time. C’mon. Lemme show you.” 

After we finished our meal, Ryon led me away from the Gallery, past the Temple, and into a network of dark alleys just out of the Guard’s purview. I clenched his arm as my heartbeat rose.

He nudged me. “Relax. It’s safe, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“Just stay close to me.” 

I wasn’t planning to let go, keeping my fingers laced around his arm like my life depended upon it. Where was he taking me? These alleys belonged to terrifying stories that kidnapped women and slaughtered men. But Ryon walked without fear, a bounce still in his step. Was he leading me somewhere to steal my heart and eat it? He could murder me right here and there. I should have listened to Elodie!

I shooed the paranoia away. Ryon wasn’t capable of such evil! I shouldn’t let such fear take me captive. 

I dismissed it just in time. Ryon led me through the alleyways and between the bricks. He tapped once on a stone as we walked, similar to tap-code, and a gust of wind wrapped around me. Ryon led me around a bend in the path, and as if a cloak was removed from the path, before me stood droves of stalls, lining the walls in a sort of secret marketplace, bustling with life.

My fear left me with my dropping jaw, and awe took hold of my body and tugged me into the fray. Individuals shouted, passing goods around from all different rungs in society’s ladder. The richest men, the poorest woman, and everyone in between occupied the street. No one noticed two newcomers, completely locked in their own secretive banter right beneath the Guard’s eyes.

Magic. It had to be magic, acting as a protective barrier. How else could something like this thrive?

“Take a gander, Nanette. They’re not here trading money for goods.” 

I glanced around the alley. He was right. No one exchanged coins. Instead, they exchanged words with such vigor and excitement it could only mean one thing: in exchange for goods and services, they performed tales, gossip, magic, and stories. 

A yelp of excitement nearly escaped my lips. I covered my mouth and glanced at Ryon, unable to contain my smile. He beamed at me, his eyes sparkling with delight. Together, we walked among the patrons, keeping our ears open for different tales. I gathered each one in my heart. They filled the air: a story of a forest queen, another about a man who cast fire from his fingers, and one more a pirate crew lost at sea. 

They were all fantastical in their own way.

Magical. 

And real.

Just like the fire-breather performing tricks in the alley. Or the children who made coins disappear.

In exchange for each story, vendors gave potions and elixirs, magical tricks and acts, and unique goods and services. Each transaction was seamless, almost without question. Children played by the wall, listening to the stories, while their mothers vended the illegal goods. Even in such an unground market, light prevailed. People smiled. They laughed. 

They were free to be human again.

I spun to face Ryon. “This is amazing! I never thought something like this could exist!”

“No one ever does. Imagine what we could do if stories and magic could come out of the shadows.”

“The Guard wouldn’t have a chance! Oh, Ryon...thank you for showing me this! It’s fantastic!” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed his cheek.

He fidgeted, his face turning that adorable shade of red. 

“Can we stay here for a while? I want to listen to more stories!” I begged.

“Of course! C’mon. There’s this one old lady over here who I love listening to. C’mon!”

 

Ryon and I spent all day in the Black Market. We absorbed ourselves in the stories, watched the gossip, and inhaled the stench of life. Part of me wanted to stay there forever. But as the sun began its orange descent, the vendors packed, the magic dwindled, and the alley was nothing more than a strip of pavement once more.

Arm-in-arm, Ryon and I headed back down the road towards Elodie’s home. We talked nonstop, recanting every story in whispers, laughing at the twists, and blushing with each flirtatious jab. Ryon argued the best story was the one about the talking llama, while I insisted it was the story about the Forest Queen. The whole conversation was natural.

Wonderful.

Perfect. 

I didn’t want the day to end.

Yet, inevitably, we arrived outside the gate to Elodie’s home. Ryon and I stopped, our fingers touching, gazes locked. 

Ryon broke it first, flabbergasted, “Today...it was nice.”

“It was,” I replied.

“We never looked for a job for me or anything.”

“There’s always tomorrow.” 

He fidgeted, “Yeah...I... yeah.”

I waited a moment.

He continued, “Listen, I’m sorry. I know I act like a flirt and everything, but I haven’t been with a girl before, so I don’t really know what I’m supposed to do now. Because I want to kiss you, but I don’t know if right now the time is, and I don’t want to mess this up. It’s just that I really like you, Nanette, but what if I scare you away or anything and—”

I stepped forward and laced my arms around him. He froze, mouth half ajar as I pressed my lips against his mouth.

He gaped for a second, then melted into the kiss. His mouth twirled over mine, desperate and hungry. It wasn’t the same as when Yeshua and Gisela kissed me: polished, confident, and loveless. But with Ryon, the kiss was endless. Sloppy. Passionate. But true. Our lips crashed like two disoriented chickens without their heads, but the emotion reigned deep in my core. 

We pulled apart, leaving only an inch between us, our breaths heavy. 

“When can I see you again?” Ryon asked.

“Whenever you want...” I cooed before brushing my lips over his once again.

“Mm...” He sighed as he pulled away. “My father will kill me if I venture into the city tomorrow. But...I’ll pick you up at our usual time the next day, okay?” 

I nodded, “It’s a date.”

Our fingers separated, our bodies pulled back, and with one final glance over my shoulder, I headed into the house, humming to myself.