37. Strings and spinning wheels

The clambering moss across the four stone walls of the Bonneville's courtyard seemed darker today, its fingers sponging together and creating a thin shadow of its own. A pile of spoiled rhubarb slumped against the wall that Ada and Solen had vaulted the morning before, but Raeph was walking to the opposite side of the allotment.

In the centre of the wall, a fresh stack of brick had broken away. The breach did not run deep enough to open onto the neighbouring street, but it crumbled high enough to leave a mound of stepping stones packed at its base.

Lark strolled into the courtyard behind them, stretching out in the sunlight like a fox who had found a forest clearing. He had left his hair hanging loose, flaming strands licking down to his collarbone with plaits tied behind his tapered ears to keep it from falling into his eyes. His lute was fastened across his back, its scroll of sculpted flowers blooming up behind his left shoulder. Its strings did not so much as quiver in the morning air, not while Raeph stood in silence, listening past the rustle of wings flapping from the chimney pot.

When satisfied that they gathered alone, Raeph nodded towards the wall. "Ladies first."

Ada felt a flush curl up her neck, but whirled past Raeph before he had the chance to glimpse it. Her bruised wrists bemoaned another attempt at climbing a wall, but she was resolved to not give Raeph the satisfaction of seeing her struggle up the stones once again. She remembered Solen's directions, wiggling her toes within her boots and scanning the wall for open crevices.

Glancing down at the crumbled brick pile, Ada tried the first brick with her foot. Nothing beneath it gave way, and she tested out the next, feeling her way up until she had scaled half of the wall's height. Straining her arms upwards, she could just about hook her fingers into the top layer of brick, and with a puff, she hauled herself onto the ledge. Triumphant, she swivelled on the wall to cast a look down to Raeph and Lark, but her vision was interrupted by a flourish of black.

Raeph vaulted over the wall, one hand braced inches from Ada's boot as he swung his legs through the air, then plunged down in a whirlwind of belts and buckles. He landed on the pavement below, coils of dark hair hiding the smile on his lips as Ada muttered, "Show off."

She eyed the drop down as Lark scrambled up beside her, nose wrinkled as if he could already smell the fish from the canal.

"Never did like heights," he grumbled. "Need a hand?"

Ada shook her head, then pitched herself from the wall. Her cloak billowed up around her again, but this time it smoothed across her arms like velvet feathers. For a moment, it felt as though she had wings, rushing through the air like a kingfisher diving towards a river. But the ground was unyielding, and her legs quaked as her boots made contact. She stumbled a step, dipping forwards, but didn't fall.

Lark clattered down after her and she straightened unsteadily, just in time to see Raeph's hand flicker back from above her hips. He cleared his throat, prowling past her and down the street before Lark had regained his balance.

"Oh, sacred stars," Lark gasped. "Is my darling ok?"

Ada blinked. "What?"

But he had already swung around, long fingers tangling with his lute's strings. None had snapped loose, and its varnish was still sleek as silk in the sunshine. A laugh bubbled from Ada as she reached over and replaced Lark's hands with her own, straightening his instrument and slipping a fallen strap back over its wooden body. "Yes, she's as pretty as ever."

A smile swept away Lark's concern, and he puffed out his chest like a proud parent. "She's a real beauty, isn't she? Although don't let her hear us, I spoil her too much as it is."

Ada laughed again, and it tasted of a sweetness she had almost forgotten, caramel threads lacing her voice.

"Hurry up, you two." Raeph waited at the end of the pavement, and he glared at Lark with dark eyes that matched the ebony dagger at his waist.

As sunbeams slipped over roof slates, the trio slunk through the morning streets of Wysthaven, keeping to back alleys with their hoods drawn across their faces. The breeze carried a chill, as if restless beneath the sun and demanding attention with crisp fingertips and biting teeth.

The streets dredged up city folk as the morning unfurled, and fae flittered across the cobblestones in silk-embroidered linen, drawn from bread racks to pheasant hooks, like flies tempted by tainted fruits. As Ada crossed a narrow bridge into the outer city, satin scarves transformed into ragged cowls, and purses faded into baskets.

Even with hoods and leathers, Raeph, Lark, and Ada swept through the streets unnoticed. Those they passed kept their eyes downcast, and the splintered awnings with teetering shop signs provided easy cover. They had walked in time with the sun's rising, and it had taken an hour for it to break over the horizon. Ada's feet felt numb against the cobblestones, but she didn't wish for Florentin's caravan as she mapped the city with ravenous eyes.

Most shops had not yet opened for morning business, but the few that were already setting up stock had their windows framed like gallery portraits. One was entirely wreathed in dried bundles of hops, and three thick branches sprouted out from amongst them, each one bearing a line of live messenger birds. A sleek owl ruffled up its plumage as they passed, its underwings feathered a deep emerald and tipped in wisps of gold.

Another shop window displayed a spinning wheel, ancient and frail and overgrown by a tangle of pale cherry blossoms. Beneath it was a bed of fallen petals, and Ada watched as another tumbled loose from its stem, floating down in dips and dives. As it settled, a thorn of silver flickered at the edge of Ada's vision, and her eyes whipped up to the wheel's needle. It stuck out, still and untended, though she was certain she had just seen it pierce the vast tapestry spread out behind it.

As woodsmoke began to shiver up from chimney pots, the trio turned onto a final street. Speckled with early risers, the wide road swept down in a rush of cobblestones towards a single stone archway. It was guarded by a man who was dressed entirely in black with dull chains circled around his neck. Ada shuddered, the Hound looking as dark as his own shadow against the swells of green grass beyond the arch.

Lark hoisted the lute from his back and traced his fingers with a reverent grace down each of its strings in turn.

"It's been a while since I've had an audience," he said with a grin. "But even as a bandit, the spotlight calls to me."

"The spotlight's going to turn into a searchlight if you don't get on with it," Raeph replied, lounging back against a street post and crossing his arms.

Lark huffed a dramatic sigh, before flashing a wink at Ada. "The life of a star is never easy."

With that, he strolled into the middle of the road, stroking his fingertips around the lute pegs before strumming them down across the strings. A murmur rose up amongst the city folk, and eyes darted warily towards Lark. But then his hand began to flit across his instrument, carrying a song that sounded softly of honey bees and buttercups. A few people stopped to watch him play, and when he parted his lips and sang along to his tune with a voice so sweet it carried like nectar on the breeze, they began to smile.

Soon, almost everyone had stilled their morning meandering to gather around Lark. A couple in the audience joined his song in harmony, and like butterflies their voices circled around one another, fluttering together in an endless springtime waltz.

"Let's go," murmured Raeph, and Ada flinched forwards. She hadn't realised how closely he now stood behind her, his hip almost brushing against her waist as he swept past her and skirted around the small crowd.

Side by side, Ada and Raeph travelled together down the street, each step bringing them closer to grass tides and dandelions. And closer to the fae whose mouth was meshed in metal.