“She’s going to be amazing as long as she gives herself a break,” Elke says. “I’m worried she’s going to quit because she couldn’t learn mine and Anouk’s whole routine in five minutes.”
Over in the field, Ryah braces her hands against Dandelion’s back, draws her body up into a perfectly arched elbow stand and executes the splits upside down. “She won’t quit.”
“How do you know?”
“Oh, just a feeling.”
“Ringmaster’s intuition?”
I start drawing away and cast one last look at Ryah. “Something like that. See you at the big top later.”
I don’t have the chance to talk to Ryah until we’re on the move again. The wagons are in a long train, wending their way along country lanes deep with shadows or slicked with sunshine. I walk Jareth slowly along the line from the first wagon to the last, chatting with each of the drivers. The other circus members are inside their wagons with the windows propped open, reading, napping or mending their costumes. At the back of the caravan, I find Ryah atop her horse, one bare foot tucked up against her thigh, the other dangling against Dandelion’s flank as she watches the birds overhead. She’s wearing a sundress, the delicate cotton fitted to her slender shoulders. She’s left the top button of the dress undone, giving a tempting glimpse of the soft cleft between her breasts. The sight of her makes my breath hitch.
She’s seventeen, I remind myself.
“Hey. Mind if I ride with you?” I say, drawing up beside her.
She smiles at me and runs a hand down her golden plait. “What a beautiful morning.”
Jareth matches Dandelion’s pace and I let go of the reins for a while and stretch out my arms and shoulders. “How are you finding everything? I hope all this slow travel is not too dull.”
“Oh, not at all,” she enthuses. “I love being out in the fresh air and watching the countryside.”
So much of England is rural countryside and twisting laneways. We can go months and months without even glimpsing a big city. Even longer. We’re not the sort of circus that can easily get around the motorways and traffic, so we stick to entertaining villages, and I’m perfectly happy missing out on the crowds and air pollution.
“How’s practice with Dandelion?”
“That’s, ah, good, too,” she says, but her voice grows soft, as if she’s uncertain. “I make so many mistakes, though. The audience isn’t going to like it if I make mistakes. Everyone else in the circus is perfect.”
“Not perfect,” I tell her. “Practiced. You’ll get there.”
Ryah wrinkles her nose. I hold out my hand to her, showing her all the scars that decorate my skin. There are so many silvery marks that I look like I lost a fight with a barbed wire fence.
“These scars won’t let me ever forget all the mistakes I made. I don’t want to forget them. They remind me of every little thing I learned, and how far I’ve come. And when I’m old and gray and too arthritic even to hold a teaspoon, they’ll remind me of what I could do.”
Ryah takes my hand and examines it carefully as we ride along. Her fingers stroke the marks on my knuckles and wrist, her gentle touch sending sparkles through me. I watch her face, drinking her in. I don’t want to, but I draw my hand from hers and clasp the reins once more.
“No one’s going to throw you out, Ryah,” I say softly, guessing what she’s really worried about.
She glances at me from beneath her lashes. “You met me and took me with you in a matter of seconds. I’m scared that it could be undone just as quickly.”
The circus uproots itself every few days, and the unknown is always frightening. I may have decided to take her with me in a split second, but I would never go back on what I offered her. She lived a life walking on eggshells in her home, never knowing when her father might explode. I want her to understand she’s safe here, for as long as she wants to be here.
“Anouk arrived two years ago,” I tell her. “Elke came four years ago. We’ve gathered many other performers besides. Sometimes people outgrow this place and move on, or it’s not the right fit for them. I don’t regret any of them leaving when it’s the right thing for them. But I would regret it if I lost you.”
She glances up in surprise. “You would? Why?”
I regard her silently. For myriad reasons that I can’t tell her. Because she reminds me of myself when I came to Meriful’s, full of so much pain and hurt. Because the world is cruel and she has no power in it, and there are people who would feed on her innocence and goodness and trample her into the dirt, just like Mirrie was trampled. Because I’m the one who reached down and stole her away, and now I feel in some strange way that she’s mine.
“Because you and Dandelion haven’t even achieved one tenth of the wonderful things I know you both can do, and what a terrible thing it would be for you to turn your back on that.”
Ryah thinks about this for a moment, her sapphire eyes fixed on the road ahead. I clench the reins as I watch her. She needs to be the one to decide to stay.
“I’d like to be able to look back and know that I put everything into this that I c
ould. I’d like to know what it feels like to be under big top with Dandelion.”
I let out the breath I’ve been holding as quietly as I can and allow my shoulders to relax. “Good to hear, sparkle.” I nod ironically to my hands. “Now, let’s just get you there with fewer scars.”