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The heat made everything feel slower and while they were lucky to work with some shade, even the trees couldn’t protect them from the sun at its peak.
If it was up to her she’d be able to guide her crew into doing road repair works at sensible hours for the city, when the roads were less travelled and the temperature was more pleasant. But greed meant the city wanted the roads repaired when the mayor said so, fixed over and over again with limited materials and less manpower than the task required, simply due to greed.
Between instructing all the crew members to make sure to hydrate, and assigning everyone alternating shifts, Melinda took a breath, enjoying the sounds of trees swaying in the wind and her crew at work.
Hoofbeats came into the mix, though at first Melinda paid them no mind, poring over their schedules. She’d offered to help the infirmary with bringing their cart over, as they could no longer afford their regular wagoner. She was still trying to keep her two apprentices focused, pulling them back from every stray distraction, when the horse came through—ears alert, flaring, the animal somehow slipping into a space far too narrow for a creature that size.
Yet, despite the chaos and the cramped yard, the mare’s rider kept perfect distance and control.
The rider leaned low in the saddle as she reigned the mare around the cart, which Melinda had been fixing the wheel of, with sharp control and no warning. She avoided a collision on pure instinct.
Melinda wasn’t so lucky. She wished that she could have blamed it on the rider among their midst but she had seen exactly what had happened. There had been no contact between the mare and the cart.
Instead the wheelwright apprentice Melinda had been instructing on using the jack had panicked, and let go where Melinda had told to properly tighten and to hold firm. The iron had slid from under the cart, and the cart had followed it down.
For half a second Melinda held her breath and hoped that the wood would hold and the crates inside could be saved, but no such luck. The sound of wood cracking loudly was only eclipsed by the shouts of commotion as the crates spilled out. Glass also cracked as the vials filled with green tincture rolled out and shattered against the uneven rocks that dotted the road.
The apprentice turned to her with wide eyes, stumbling back with his hands raised in surrender. “I—I thought the pin was set—”
“It wasn’t,” Melinda snapped, but her anger was as much directed at herself as it was at him. She should have checked that it had been properly stabilized. She should have known the city would skimp on decent tools the way it skimped on wages and shade and every other damned necessity.
The rider, now half out of the saddle, reigned in the mare with one hand while their other hand braced against the pommel for balance. Every hoofprint was in a clear line, a respectable distance away from the cart.
Melinda exhaled through her teeth, forcing herself to focus. “All right. No one step in this mess until I’m able to assess how many are salvageable and how to best clean up the glass,” she barked at the apprentices. “Find the thick gloves. And bring the toolbox.” When the apprentices stared at her frozen she followed it up with, “Now!”
The rider, in turn, swung off their horse, planting their boots in the dust, bow and arrow on their back. The riders' gaze traced the damage caused. They said nothing, simply tilting their head to observe
It hadn’t been the rider’s fault. Melinda knew that. Still when she spoke, her voice came out harsh, the weight of the disaster was getting to her. “It wasn’t your doing.” She jerked her chin toward the where the jack had scattered, the iron split. “Loose pin. Cheap iron.”
The rider’s eyes followed the motion, pausing on the wreckage before their eyes landed on Melinda. For a second Melinda was entranced, then the archer spoke. “Cheap iron kills.” Her voice was light, melodic.
“Tell that to the city treasurer,” Melinda muttered in turn. “He counts coins, not coffins.”
The rider’s gaze changed to where green tincture bled into the dirt, soaking slowly into the cracks between stones.. “Mandrake tincture,” she said. “Pricey.”
Another bottle rolled out, crashing quietly.
Melinda didn’t flinch. “Half a month’s pay for some of us,” she said quietly, motioning toward the apprentices, who hovered at the edges of the mess. “It was bound for the infirmary. Guess that won’t be happening now. The cart and what’s inside are all but gone.”
“You’ll need fresh crates,” the archer said.
“And a miracle.” Melinda wiped her brow, only noticing when it came away streaked with green. She didn’t repeat the gesture. Her gaze swept towards the ruined splintered wood and glittering glass.
She sighed, then continued. “Crates, a new cart, tools. All of it.” She shrugged. “If the city’s feeling generous, maybe they’ll throw in a second broom.”
The rider unhooked a small leather purse from her belt. The clink of coin inside was unmistakable. She offered it out, palm flat. “Start with silver. Miracles come later.”
She pressed it into Melinda’s palm. “Is this enough?”
The weight surprised her. This much coin—it could replace a full set of crates, and what was left could be put on top to barter for a better replacement jack. It was more than she’d been given in months of negotiations with the city, more than most would hand over.
The unasked generosity lit a flame in her chest. “More than.” Melinda nodded. "Thought there's no way I could pay you back."
“I disrupted the road,” she replied. “A rider makes amends."
The apprentices returned with brooms and thick gloves. “We’ll salvage what we can.” Melinda instructed them, directing them on how to best handle the wreckage. To her surprise the rider pulled gloves from her pack and took a broom in hand.
When the last shard was swept aside, Melinda straightened, her shoulders aching. “Thank you. Not only for your coin but your time as well. I am in your debt.”
Her words were met with a gentle smile."There is no debt to be had between us. I only did what was needed.”
Melinda felt more and more intrigued. Most people walked away when things appeared to be going south, more so once it already had. Otherwise they might start to blame other things for whatever went wrong, they blamed the tools, the timing, or whoever happened to be closest. She had learned not to expect anything else.
The aid carefully offered, gently and without intrusion, was new and brought with it a fluttering in her chest.
“Still, thank you. I can't express how grateful I am." She offered a hand. "I’m Melinda.”
The other woman hesitated, then took it. “Rami.” She gestured towards her horse, “And this is Tamar.”
Rami released her grip first, stepping back from the handshake. Tamar’s tail flicked behind her.
“Thanks again. For the help. And the coin.”
Rami nodded, turning towards Tamar, running a hand along the mare’s neck. “Tell your steward to stop storing tinctures on bad wheels.”
“I am the steward,” Melinda replied dryly.
Rami chuckled. Melinda watched as Rami vaulted smoothly into the saddle, Tamar stepping neatly to brace the weight.
Melinda lifted one hand in a wave, the other shading her eyes as she looked up at Rami. “Safe roads and safe travels.”
“Clear skies, city-girl.” Rami nudged Tamar forward, slow and steady.
Melinda stood beside the broken cart a while longer, thumb brushing the seam of the coin purse in her pocket, watching as the horse’s gentle steps turned into a full on gallop, their movements as controlled and precise as when Rami first came along the road.
Where the city lights ended and the dusk of the outside fields started was a gentle, subtle change. Not even fifteen minutes into the trek Melinda realized it was a foolish endeavor. How was she meant to find Rami just by following the road to its end?
Well, it didn't matter. Considering the week she’d had, the argument with the city treasures, negotiations on replacing the infirmary’s supplies and even an emergency rush to transfer a patient to the neighbouring city where their doctors could treat that patient better, she was more than in sore need of some peace and tranquillity.
If she ended up stumbling onto Rami and Tamar camping out here, it would be pure coincidence. Even though she was hoping to find them and return to Rami what was left of her coin.
The excuse felt as flimsy as the new tools the treasurer had given her to replace the jack that had snapped in the cart incident. Melinda didn’t think Rami was the kind of person to point out the flimsiness of her excuse.
If Rami wished for Melinda not to seek her out, Melinda would simply return what was left of the coin and continue on. If she even was to find Rami in the first place.
Melinda was ready to turn back, having wandered in the dark fields for long enough when she heard the huff of a horse, startlingly loud, almost as if the huff was intentional.
She followed the sound to where the clearing changed into thick forest, only to find none other than Tamar walking closer to meet her, bumping her head against Melinda’s shoulder when the distance between them closed. Melinda raised her hand carefully, holding it up to let Tamar bump into it, which she did.
“I’m looking for Rami,” she said, taking the money pouch from her coat and shaking it. The remaining coins clinked together, much more empty than when Rami had handed it to her not that long ago.
Tamar paid it no mind but she did turn around, leading Melinda west, away from the roads most travelled. As the two of them walked, Melinda could make out the flickering light of a campfire and the sound of stone on metal.
Eventually, Rami came into view, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, scraping a whetstone down the blade of an arrow in a measured rhythm. Other arrows laid scattered in front of her, and the light of the campfire lit up the tent that was set up behind her.
“Seems like Tamar heard you coming like I did,” Rami said, her hand continuing the motion, sharpening the edge of the arrow in her hand. “City boots always give it away.” Tamar, as if in agreement, circled once before settling near the fire, her tail swishing once before going still.
Melinda glanced down at her boots. They were her work pair, thick-soled, built to keep toes safe from iron, splinters, and whatever else got dropped in a day’s labor. The only pair she owned that wasn’t worn through. She’d been meaning to stop by the cobbler for weeks, but between the broken cart, the treasurer’s excuses, and the infirmary mess, her own errands had started to feel like luxuries.
“Not built for quiet.” She stomped the ground for emphasis. “Or for this much walking.”
Rami looked up at the noise. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards.
Melinda stepped up, holding out the coin pouch in her hand. “Came to return this. Or rather what’s left of it.” She smiled. “It was a great help. Didn’t spend it all. Thought you should have what’s left back.”
Rami set down the arrow, rising to her feet. She eyed the coin pouch, then Melinda. “I told you it wasn’t a loan.”
“Good thing I’m not repaying you, then.” Melinda held out the coin pouch more insistently, the coins in it ringing. “Simply returning what’s left back to its rightful owner.”
That was the truth, or part of it. The rest was that she felt dismayed at the possibility at having Rami disappear without seeing her again
Melinda watched as the firelight danced across Rami’s cheekbones as Rami gestured to the trees around them. “Still. You didn’t have to come all this way.”
“Wasn’t far.” Melinda shrugged. “I needed air.”
Rami hummed, crossing her legs as she retook her seat back on the ground, picking up the whetstone. “There’s plenty of that out here, and company if you need it too.” She jerked her head to where Tamar was lying down. “Tamar’s an excellent listener.”
Melinda hesitated, but when Rami patted the ground beside her, Melinda also took a seat.
“I didn’t expect you to still be here,” Melinda started, looking through the trees. If she squinted very hard, she could vaguely make out which direction the city was. “So close to the city I mean. I’d expected you to have travelled on.”
“You didn’t expect me to still be here, but you sought me out?” Rami teased. “Good thing you’re so lucky then.”
“You know what I mean,” Melinda responded in turn, poking her tongue out.
“I do,” Rami smiled. “Usually I would have moved on already. But the blacksmith’s out of town and should be returning tomorrow. She’s one of the ones who Tamar prefers for her horseshoes, so I usually come out here for reshoeing. And sometimes I wait until she’s back.”
Melinda hummed. “I’ve never seen you before. And I pass by Alia’s quite a bit, what with her being one of the only people I trust to make proper tools.”
Rami gave a smile that could only be described as shy. “I try to get in and out as quickly as I can. Tamar usually stays out here in the outskirts while I pick up what is needed. The bustling is not for me.”
“Sometimes it feels like bustling is my whole life,” Melinda joked, catching a soft laugh from Rami. “I’m not sure I could trade it for too much tranquillity though, it feels like it’s a part of me. Do you ever get tired of quiet?”
“No. Do you ever get tired of noise?”
Melinda let out a chuckle, caught off guard. “Every hour of every day.”
Rami finished with another arrow, before setting the whetstone down. She leaned back on both her hands, gaze meeting Melinda’s across the glow of the fire.
Melinda tapped her foot against the dirt. “But I don’t know what I’d do with quiet, if I had it.”
Rami hummed in return, before asking about her city.
From there the conversation seemed to flow as if they had known each other for more than just the one day and night. Melinda asked Rami how she was able to afford her travels, keeping Tamar in comfort while still being able to be so generous.
As Rami's told of her odd jobs, the ebb and flow of trading and most recently, the archery competition she'd won just in the city over, a story developed that painted Rami to be a kind, generous and free soul.
It was the first time Melinda had heard of a life that sounded so free.
The yard was quiet. Melinda had sent most of the apprentices home due to the heat. Melinda was finishing checks, her back straining from being bent over too long, running a hand along a newly cut beam. Her shoulders ached from the angle, the sun was burning, and she’d just started to consider taking a break when movement caught her eye.
She straightened up to see which apprentice had come to disrupt her peace, although her eyes landed on someone else entirely.
Rami stood at the edge of the yard, her head shaded by a wide-brimmed hat. Tamar was waiting behind her. When Rami caught Melinda’s eyes, Rami raised a hand in acknowledgement.
Melinda wiped her palms on her trousers, heart skipping once before it settled. “Didn’t expect to see you again.”
Rami let her hand fall, gaze drifting across the yard. “Didn’t expect to come back,” she said finally. “And yet.”
“And yet,” Melinda repeated.
Rami patted Tamar’s flank. “I figured Tamar and I still owed you a proper goodbye. Or hello. Depending on how you look at it.”
Melinda chuckled, the sound carrying through the yard. She nodded toward the shade by the workshop wall. “If you’re staying long enough to talk, we might as well get out of the sun.”
They stopped in the sliver of shade cast by the wall. It was still warm but no longer the stifling heat of being in direct sunlight. Melinda leaned back against the stone of the workshop’s wall. Rami stayed standing, and Tamar drifted toward the edge of the yard to nose at a water trough.
Melinda wiped the sweat off her forehead. “You just passing through?” she asked.
Rami shook her head. “No. Not this time.”
Melinda raised an eyebrow. “Tired of your fields and ready to brave the city noise?”
“I’m in the city for the week,” Rami said. “Trade, mostly. My tent needs repairs and Alia had a delay, so Tamar’s still due for new shoes.” She glanced down. “And I thought maybe…if you weren’t too busy…”
She trailed off, and for a moment all Melinda could hear was wind and the clink of shifting tools which were hanging on the rack nearby. And the stuttering of her own heart.
“I’d love to show you and Tamar around,” Melinda said. “If that’s what you’d like.”
The smile Rami gave Melinda in return was blinding. “Good.”
Their first stop had been the open-air market near the western gate. Melinda walked a half step ahead, pointing out intricacies of each of the vendors. She hadn’t grown up in this city, but she felt as though she practically ran it with the amount of responsibilities she took on.
They passed a short man arranging jars, towers and towers of them stacked neatly one on top of the other. Melinda gestured in his general direction. “That’s Wilton. Won’t sell you anything unless you list your symptoms in full and tell him your star sign. He says coughs hit Geminis harder.”
At her side, Rami’s gaze followed the man as he rearranged his jars for the fourth time. “Star sign?”
“He refused to sell me anything when I said I didn’t know mine. Just lectured me about the importance of the alignment.”
Next to her, Rami hummed pensively. “The alignment of the stars are important, though I’m not sure of their connection to health. They’re useful for guidance otherwise though.”
“I told him something similar. In any case, I get what I need from the infirmary now, hence the cart errand and subsequent mishap. Thank you again, I still don’t know how to repay you.”
Rami’s fingers reached for Melinda’s hand, interlocking their fingers together. She raised their clasped hands between them. She looked into Melinda’s eyes as she spoke. “I would rather there be no debts between us.”
“Ah...” Melinda could feel the blush creeping up her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “Alright, well, if you insist. What about I finish giving you this tour, and we call it even?”
“I would love that.” Rami let go of Melinda’s hand then, and Melinda found herself missing the warmth.
As she considered reaching back out for Rami’s hand, a yell rang out. “Stop! Thief!”
Melinda’s head snapped up, while people murmured in confusion. She barely caught it as a blur of motion as someone sprang through the open path between stalls right in front of them, fast and low to the ground, their fingers wrapped around an item.
When Melinda turned to look at Rami, she was also already tense, ready to spring into action.
Melinda gestured towards the direction the thief had gone. “Come on—he’s cutting through the far side!”
She didn’t wait for a response, slipping between two linen stalls, sliding between them. She could hear Rami behind her, as well as the sound of a whistle, followed by hoofbeats.
Melinda forced her legs to go quicker as the thief shoved past a boy holding a fruit basket, and sent the boy’s pears tumbling to the ground. She pushed through the chaos, dodging several fallen baskets and a runaway chicken. Her boots hit the uneven paving stones hard—this was no time to think about the ache already blooming in her calves, and she had no time to regret still not resoleing them.
“Cut him off before the dye stalls!” she shouted over her shoulder. Rami, riding on top of Tamar, met her gaze just long enough to nod once before the two of them broke off in a sprint.
Melinda cut through a back lane cluttered with buckets and planks, nearly tripped over a lounging cat, and came out on the thief’s flank just as he skidded around a barrel.
She surged forward as he tried to duck left toward a narrow passage but there was Rami, already waiting at the far end, Tamar blocking the exit like a wall with hooves. The thief cursed, tried to backtrack, but it was too late as Melinda closed the distance in three fast strides.
The thief spun at the last second, panic blooming wide across his face. He tried to sidestep her, but his boot skidded on a loose stone. Melinda took the opening and threw herself forward.
She collided with his shoulder and the momentum carried them both into a stall post. The thief grunted, staggered, but didn’t go down. He twisted under her arm, his elbow jabbing at her ribs, knocking the breath from her lungs, but she didn’t let go.
They both went down, slamming against the stone. His boot connected with Melinda’s thigh in a way that she was sure would bruise latter, but all the wrestling was enough to knock the bundle he’d run with out of his arms.
Melinda lunged forward and slammed a hand over it just as he reached for it too.
Boots landed beside them. Rami’s shadow cut clean through the dust. “I wouldn’t.” She said, bow in hand and an arrow aimed at the thief.
Melinda took a moment to breathe. Her whole body buzzed with tension, and her breath ragged. Only then could she exhale and push herself upright, dirt streaked across her palms, thigh throbbing, her chest still heaving.
The thief groaned on the ground beside her.
“You broke my ribs,” the thief gasped, but it sounded more like complaint than injury.
“If only,” Melinda muttered.
A few market guards were filtering in now and Melinda gestured to them with a jerk of her chin. “He’s all yours. Try not to let him bolt again.”
Melinda rubbed at her shoulder, her teeth gritted. Her entire side was going to bloom purple by morning.
“You alright?” Rami asked, and when Melinda looked over, Rami was standing close, holding Tamar’s reins loosely in one hand. Her other hand was held out to help Melinda up.
“I’ve been better,” Melinda said, brushing dust from her front. “Also been worse. Once got knocked off a scaffolding by a goat.”
Rami blinked, then let out a breath that might’ve been a laugh. “Should I ask?”
Melinda shook her head, taking Rami’s offered hand. “Don’t.”
Rami pulled her up gently. Her hand was calloused and steady, and Melinda was overwhelmed that she was somehow holding Rami’s hand again. Once upright, she realized just how close they were standing. She stepped back, cleared her throat.
“Thanks,” she said. “For the assist.”
Rami tilted her head, faint smile ghosting at her mouth. “You had it handled.”
“You had his escape route covered, it takes two.”
Rami’s smile lingered as she glanced down the alley where the thief had been dragged off. “He picked the wrong direction.”
Melinda smirked faintly. “He picked the wrong city.”
They left the market after the guards dragged the thief off, the buzz of excitement following them into the nearest tavern.
Rami bought the first round and they drank outside with the last of the sun’s rays casting over them in gold shades. Melinda sat with her back to the wall and one boot propped on the stool, watching Rami drink.
“You know,” Melinda said, swirling what was left in her cup, “for a date, that was remarkably violent.”
Rami’s brow lifted, just a little. “That was a date?”
“Wasn’t it?” Melinda took a long sip. “And if it wasn’t before, it is now.”
Rami gave a low chuckle that she mostly hid behind her mug, but Melinda caught the edge of it all the same.
As they drank Rami told Melinda about how her plans took her everywhere and how nowhere was the same as anywhere else. Melinda talked about that goat incident that had knocked her off the scaffolding. They swapped little stories back and forth until the adrenaline in their veins was exchanged for the mellow exhaustion that followed.
The stars had come out as they made to leave, but Melinda hesitated. “Before you and Tamar disappear, I want to show you something.”
They climbed a narrow stairway behind the bellfounder’s tower, not far from the city’s edge. Melinda had discovered it years ago, back when she used to sneak away, find reprieve from meetings that dragged on too long and the city’s exhausting leadership. The stone steps wound up and up and up. At the top, however, the city fell away all at once.
The tower had no bell now, but the view stretched far beyond the rooftops. The plains rolled out past the city’s edge, lines of forest etched into the horizon, dark with only the moonlight to light them.
The wind whipped along them, sweeping skin and tousling hair in the wind. Melinda leaned forward, rested her elbows against the stone rail, and exhaled.
“Up here,” she said, her voice carried by the wind, “it’s almost like I’m no longer in the city.”
Rami stood beside her, looking into the distance. Melinda had the sense she was taking in everything, the forest, the hills, the curve of farmland near the eastern ridge.
“Doesn’t feel like the city at all,” Rami said eventually. “Feels like you could just… walk out of it.”
Melinda’s knuckles brushed the worn edge of the stone. “Sometimes I think I might.”
“Would you?” Rami asked, without turning.
“I used to think I would. I grew up somewhere else, the poor side of a poor city. My mother worked her fingers into knots trying to keep us fed. So when I came here I felt like I could finally make a life for myself, make a change. I had made it.
Rami hummed in response.
“And I have made it,” Melinda continued. “Because I’m good with tools and I fix things and I help people. I fix things no one else would. I’m not sure how it turned into trying to fix the city itself, but somehow it did.”
"And sometimes helping those who break it put it back together again," Rami joked.
"That too," Melinda chuckled. "But it's more than that. I don’t know why I thought it would be different here. Cities break the way people do—bad joints, rotted support, covered up cracks. And half the time, people don’t want it fixed. They just want to live around the damage... ” Melinda paused, letting the weight of the words sink in.
"But you want to fix it," Rami replied, moving close. Rami moved closer, and Melinda felt Rami's fingers hovering by her side. She leaned into the offered comfort, humming in agreement. “Sometimes I think that I never escaped, that I’m still giving too much of myself for no reason. That I’m pouring water into a bucket that’s already split down the middle. But then there are days…” Melinda trailed off, swallowing.
“There are days when something works. When a wheel holds. A patient gets better. A roof stays dry in a storm. Days when someone like you rides in out of nowhere and reminds me there’s more to this world than just surviving in it. I don’t want to dream my whole life. I want to live it. Build something that lasts. That make any sense?”
“It does, somehow.” Rami raised her hand, the one that was previously holding Melinda’s, and carded fingers through Melinda’s hair. Melinda leaned further into the touch before reaching for Rami’s other hand, she tugged the two of them down, until they were seated against the bell’s stone railing and took Rami’s hand in hers, running her fingers over the top of Rami’s hand.
“I don’t really stay anywhere,” Rami began. “Haven’t since I was thirteen. My parents were with a traveling tribe. Traders, mostly. Never stayed long—three days in one village, maybe a week in another. Just long enough to fix a broken axle or trade goatskin for salt, then move on. It was... quiet, but it had rhythm. And then they passed away.”
"I'm sorry," Melinda said, continuing the gentle motion of her fingers across Rami's arm. "I never had a father, but losing both your parents, that must have been difficult."
“I don’t remember much before they died. Just pieces. After that, it was mostly just Tamar and me.” Rami continued. “I've tried to stay in places but they never worked out. Had a job patrolling trade routes near the bay, taught some kids archery. I even lived in a city not unlike this one for almost half a year. I thought I would learn to love it.”
Rami let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I hated it."
“I think I get the shape of what you’re chasing,” Ranu continued, flicking a glance sideways, the pressure of her hand holding Melinda’s hand tightening then releasing. “That feeling, like making something solid, something bigger than yourself, might be worth all the weight it puts on your shoulders.”
“But for me,” Rami sighed, “staying still feels like shrinking. Like I can’t breathe properly. Out in the fields, or the plains, or the forest, there’s space in every direction. I can feel the ground under Tamar’s hooves and know exactly where I am.”
Melinda watched as her other hand trailed the grooves in the ground aimlessly.
Rami leaned her head back against the railing.“Sometimes I wonder if I’ve just been running from the silence of being alone. But I think it’s more than that... I don’t know how to belong to something that doesn’t move along with me. Like my parents did. Like Tamar does.”
Rami turned just enough to meet Melinda's eyes, a hopeful smile. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t see the value in it. What you’re doing. What you’re building. I think... I think maybe that’s what I had, back when my parents were alive. A group. A purpose. A reason to be somewhere. And I miss it, even if I couldn’t name it until now.”
Melinda returned her smile. "I'm not sure it's something I could name either."
The wind whistled gently through the gaps in the tower stones. Below them, the city gave no sign it had ever noticed they were gone.
Tamar’s new shoes rang sharp against the cobblestone in the quiet of daybreak. Melinda waited by the archway, toolbox under one arm, thumb rubbing the coin-purse Rami had insisted she keep.
Rami led Tamar forward, reins slack. “Shoes are good,” she said, nodding toward the mare’s hooves and then to Melinda’s toolbox.
“Worth spending all that time in the chaotic city?” Melinda asked.
“Definitely,” Rami replied, “though I must admit there are other, more lovely reasons that kept me around so long.”
Melinda managed a smile, but her fingers tightened round the box handle. “So this is it?”
“Just for now,” Rami answered. “I’m planning to meet up with some caravans up North, and I’ve delayed as long as I can.”
Melinda’s breath hitched. She set the toolbox down, reaching for Rami’s free hand. “I know you can’t stay,” she said, voice barely audible. “But I don’t want you to go—not if it means never coming back.”
Rami reached forward, their fingers interlacing. “I don’t want to leave you behind either.” She let go of Tamar’s reins to reach into her satchel, pulling out a roll of parchment, pressing it into Melinda’s hand. “Thought of a compromise.”
Melinda unfurled it. It was a simple map: the trading route Rami would ride, with three tiny circles in red.
“Those are market towns with forges that need a proper steward,” Rami explained. “Seasonal road work, cart repair, tools are always breaking too. They’d pay in coin and board, and none of them are more than a two weeks’ ride from here.” She swallowed. “Ride with me until the first one. After that you can circle back, or…keep going. Your choice.”
Melinda blinked, surprise melting into fierce warmth. “You planned this?”
“Since the night on the tower,” Rami admitted. “I realized freedom means choosing my road, but that doesn’t mean I have to leave you behind.”
Silence stretched on, filled only by Tamar’s breathing. Melinda closed the space, jumping into Rami’s arms.
“I think I love you,” she murmured into Rami’s chest. “And I want a life big enough for both of us—no, the three of us.”
Rami’s answering smile was as bright as the sunrise. “I love you, city-girl. Stay for half a road, stay for all of it, stay for forever, as long as you just stay with me—with us .”
Melinda stepped back, reaching for Rami’s hand again, the other hand she placed on Tamar’s flank. “Until the first town,” she agreed. “Then we’ll see.”
Above them, the sky spread wide and somewhere two futures began to overlap, moving at a pace they would decide on together.