Wystwood

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."