“Of course.” She thinks for a moment. “But that doesn’t include Elke and Anouk, does it?”
“No, that doesn’t include Elke and Anouk. I’m sure you’ll all be riding each other’s horses. Elke’s ideas can get complicated.” I smile at her, imagining what the three of them will come up with together.
Ryah practically bounces with excitement. Then she notices the bay horse for the first time. “Oh! You brought Lester, too.”
I turn to look at the horse. “Yes. When I saw what your father had done to Dandelion, I couldn’t leave him behind. He can make himself useful as one of the wagon horses, if you like.”
Her face darkens at the mention of her father. I wait for her to tell me more about what he did to her, but she just shakes her head slightly, as if dismissing something she doesn’t want to think about. “Dad didn’t hurt you, did he?”
I remember with pleasure the feel of that asshole under my boot. “No. And he won’t be hurting you again, either. Or Dandelion. If you see him again, come and tell me right away and I’ll sort him out. But don’t worry too much about that. I doubt you’ll be hearing from him ever again.”
“Thank you, Cale,” she says softly. “And thank you from Dandelion and Lester, too.”
“Don’t mention it. All right, enjoy yourself today. And enjoy watching the show tonight.”
I wave to her, and then lead Jareth and the bay over to the other horses to get them fed, watered and comfortable again. I’m exhausted after a long day and night in the saddle, and so is Jareth, but I find myself smiling as I rub my horse down with a handful of straw. It was all worth it for the happiness on Ryah’s face when she saw Dandelion. More than worth it.
As Jareth eats his hay, I let my fingers trail over my cheek for a moment, remembering the feel of Ryah’s lips there. She’s a sweet girl. Life’s given her a battering, but her heart’s still open.
Chapter Five
Ryah
Once I finish showering Dandelion with affection and get her settled in with the other horses, Elke, Anouk and I get dressed and eat breakfast. We spend the morning selling tickets for tonight’s show. It’s a fun job, because we get to talk to people and they’re all excited by what we have in store for them. A few villagers ask me if I got my black eye from falling off a horse or getting a tumble wrong, and I just smile and say yes. My old life feels far away.
When we’ve sold all the tickets, Elke turns to me. “Let’s get you some new things. Cale gave me money from the orphan fund.”
“The what?” I reply.
“Petty cash. I don’t think many of us are actually orphans, but new performers sometimes arrive with nothing more than the clothes they stand up in, so the circus takes care of them until they start earning a wage.”
I follow her, hoping I’ll start earning money soon. I don’t want to be a freeloader.
The three of us have fun rummaging through the handful of thrift stores for dresses, shorts and T-shirts, and once we have a big bagful we go to a little shop that sells underwear, toothpaste, sandals and other things. I pick up what I’ll need to keep myself clean and tidy.
When we get back to the wagon, we dump all the new clothes out on my bed and start sorting through them. Anouk pulls out a floaty, peach-colored dress that comes down to my knees. “You should wear this tonight while you watch the show.”
“And here’s your ticket,” Elke says, passing the little paper slip to me. “I kept one of the best seats for you.”
“Thank you!” I exclaim, happiness bubbling through me.
I spend the rest of the afternoon sitting on my bed and chatting to Elke and Anouk as they get ready to perform. They put on a lot of makeup, explaining that the harsh spotlights wash your face out, so they have to be heavy with the eyeliner, blush and lipstick. They each set their hair in rollers this morning and covered them with colorful scarves, and now they unroll them and tease their hair high like Marie Antoinette and add pale pink ostrich feathers and sparkly pins.
Finally, they pull on shimmering tights, flesh-toned leotards, and pale pink corsets with miniature bustles. On their feet they wear plain ballet slippers. I gape at them both when they’re finished, because my two new friends have transformed into stunning showgirls.
“You both look so beautiful,” I enthuse, wishing I was going to perform tonight. Wishing I knew anything at all about performing and wondering if I’m good enough to do anything in front of a crowd.
“Come over at sunset and take your seat.” Elke tells me as they head out.
“We can’t wait to hear what you think of the show. Meet us at the fire when it’s over.” Anouk squeezes my arm before disappearing through the door.
When they’re gone, I sit on the steps of the wagon in my new peach-colored dress, anxiously watching the sun get lower and lower in the sky. I’m the only one here. Everyone else is over at the big top or tending to the horses. I see one of the crew leading Snowdrop and Patches, Elke and Anouk’s horses, over to the arena. They’re decked out in sparkling bridles with plumes of feathers atop their crowns. Dandelion would look so beautiful done up the same way.
A wagon door opens on the far side of the semi-circle. Cale emerges, and my toes stop bouncing. Until now I’ve seen him in simple black, dusty clothes, his collar-length black hair loose and in need of a combing. He’s a handsome man, and he felt warm and comforting when I had my arms around him. Tonight, he’s dressed in black as usual, but he gleams. His long frock coat is made of black brocade, and his hair is shiny and clean and pulled back in a ponytail. There are touches of silver to him everywhere. The ornate belt buckle at his hips. The cufflinks on his black shirt. The trim on his black boots. And, strapped to his ribs, the leather and silver handles of his knives peep out from beneath his coat. So they are part of his act.
Cale passes a hand over the black bristles on his jaw as he checks where the sun is in the sky. He sees me, straightens his coat lapels, and nods. Then he’s striding off to the big top through the heavy golden light.
A line of villagers is forming near the entrance, and I hurry to join them. Aura and Arvid are ripping tickets, dressed in purple and yellow harlequin costumes and bantering with the crowd. Aura gives me a wink when she checks my ticket.
The big top is like the TARDIS from Doctor Who, seeming much bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside. The seats circle the arena, which has been strewn with hay. The ceiling goes up and up, and there are trapezes and high wires above. When everyone has taken their seats, the lights suddenly fade. The audience whisper excitedly to each other.
I wait for Cale to appear, because as the ringmaster I expect he’ll open the show, but instead soft, exotic music twines through the air. A spotlight hits a figure slowly descending headfirst from the shadows. It’s a young woman I don’t recognize, in her costume, anyway. She’s wearing a blue leotard and is using two long, blue banners as ropes. She’s not even holding onto them with her hands, but rather has them wrapped around her legs, friction holding her aloft.
As she performs midair splits and twists, I suddenly recognize her as the contortionist who was speaking to the man squeezing himself through the tennis racket last night. After a few minutes of performing, she climbs back into the darkness, and the music fades.