Luckily, Dorothea did not in fact fall on the stairs and break her neck on the way down from the watchtower. It was a welcome relief to be back on the ground, though it was embarrassing that Rhys kept casting her concerned looks.

To distract him, she asked, “How do you feel about trade routes being closed?” This was also a good opportunity to get the perspective of someone who wasn’t a Sirpoan.

“It’s different, but we’re not exactly suffering from the change. Some people were disappointed about not having access to fresh seafood anymore.” He laughed. “I always knew when a shipment came in because you could smell it in the streets. My mom always swore she smelled it the day before it arrived, coming down the mountain path.”

Dorothea chuckled with him. Both the Sacerians’ and Ghurians’ access points to the sea were bordered in a lengthy strip by inactive but not extinct volcanoes, so fishing for them wasn’t exactly safe, nor was life attracted to the area in the first place. Thus, Sacer and Ghuria alike had at some points relied on Sirpo, trading pelts and the like in exchange for treats from the water’s depths.

“If you miss it that much, maybe you can come up to Sirpo yourself and eat to your heart’s content. Shark can make their trademark jambalaya. It’s so hot it might kill you, but I’d pick it as my last meal without a doubt,” Dorothea joked.

“I could never leave,” Rhys replied, only half-joking in return. He shook his head just slightly and laughed again, more quiet. “But that sounds nice.”

Right. As if he didn’t have a legion of more important things to do. Foolish of her to even suggest it as if he’d want to in the first place. “Where to now?” she asked, trying not to sound as awkward as she felt.

Rhys put both hands in his pockets, wiping them on the sides of his pants first. “I figured we could get you to the mess hall of the soldier’s barracks where Iree told us to meet. You should take a break. If you want.”

This was all so humiliating… She was a hot mess, the sweatiest of all of the messes. “Okay… Of course.” Her forced politeness was starting to ring hollow.

Rhys seemed to be catching some secondhand embarrassment on her behalf. “Yep… Yeah. By the way,” he began after they had entered the residential business area, the soft dust of the dirt street paling the bottoms of their shoes, “you’re an odd duck. Inviting a man you’ve just met over for, what was it? Jambalaya.” The word sounded foreign on his lips, and he said it slowly. Shark had never heard of it either before coming to Sirpo, and now it was their favorite dish.

Dorothea smiled. “You really just called me an odd duck?” She laughed. “At home, no one would ever call me a name like that. Other than Shark, at least. My father used to call me his little blueberry, but…” Once the words were said, she instantly regretted them. Great, now she was talking about her dead family members. “But, uh, we all have our little nicknames, right? Haha…”

“Are you that fond of blueberries?” Rhys asked with a laugh. “As in, you are what you eat?”

“Er, well…” Great. Okay, fine. There didn’t seem much point in keeping up the pretense of dignity with him since he already knew it for what it was. “I’ve never had one, actually. They’re not suited for Sirpo’s climate. Daddy…” Dorothea coughed. He’d died before she’d grown out of calling him that. “Er, my father, I mean, he liked them and gave me that nickname because… Er, well, because I was shaped like a blueberry as a child. At least he seemed to think so.”

“Oh.”

Now she’d gone and done it. “A-as a child, I was. I’m…less so, now, um, though not by much I know, not that that matters in the slightest of course, and my parents were both quite thin. Like sticks! And…” She sighed. “That’s all.”

Rhys pressed his lips together, but a wobbling smile still carved its way onto his face. “What a… What a cruel nickname.” His shoulders shook slightly, and the words trembled over the laughter they failed to smother.

“He said it with love, really.” Dorothea cleared her throat, hoping he was laughing with and not at her. Unlikely.

Unable to decide how to drive the conversation towards less humiliating subjects, she took time to observe her surroundings. The noise around them had swelled to a heavy din as they passed from the narrower street connected to the tower and entered onto a much wider stretch that extended a ways ahead of them through what seemed roughly like the middle of the city. These broad roads would connect to the mansion in the center, she realized, and would act as a useful way to circle around if she ever got lost during her brief stay.

The rabble was due to one long strip to their left being set up with stall after stall of goods. People laughed and talked of the steals they’d gotten as they moved in an established flow, collisions rarely occurring between packed bodies. Any bumps were met with laughter and sincere apology. All wasn’t entirely peaceful, however. Some haggled with the same refreshing politeness while others got red in the face, argued and swore. Merchants howled atop the noise to draw in customers. Sweet and savory food smells blended with odors of oil and incense and bitter smoke, and the whole scene made Dorothea’s head spin.

Rhys leaned down to talk in her ear, voice low, and she had to concentrate to parse out his words. “This is the market I mentioned. If you’re not a person who can firmly say no or ignore someone when they try to sell you something, I’d advise staying away or coming with a friend who can, or else you’ll be had. I should know. I got taken for my whole monthly savings at a single stall once. Though that was years ago.”

Dorothea tilted her head up to reply, and a shocked jolt ran through her. Seemed there wasn’t much room to be shy about personal space on this particular street. This close, she noticed a thin scar on his jawline, just slightly paler than the rest of his dark tawny skin. Once she noticed that, she saw more, marks dotting his forearms all the way down to his concealed hands.

“What was it you just had to have?” she asked, glad he’d either not noticed or decided not to comment on her staring and chiding herself for it.

He motioned to the collar of his shirt, a white button-down closed neatly with a thin black tie, to a simple but lovely pin. A turquoise disc was encircled by small golden waves, giving it the appearance of a mystical radiating sun. A white feather looped around the left side of this sun of sorts to flow off the top into a short, graceful sweep.

“That cost you so much?” Though lovely, it didn’t seem like it should have been so expensive.

“I got swindled,” Rhys laughed. “I was told it would bring me protection on the battlefield and ward the specter of death away. Obviously that’s impossible, but since I paid so much and won’t ever be able to sell it for a worthwhile return, I wear it anyways. Got two more for each of my closest friends, too.” He sighed. “I wasn’t the smartest back then. Or now, really.”

Dorothea smiled. “That was wonderful of you, though.”

He looked surprised. “Was it?”

She laughed, beaming up at him. “Of course it was! It was an amazing gesture!” It was such a precious and endearing thing to do for his friends. She hoped all had gone well.

“Oh…” He turned his face away from her. “That’s...good, I guess.”

Seeing that he was the embarrassed one now, she put a hand over her mouth to hide her smile. Yes, her first impression had been entirely wrong, and she was glad. What a sweet boy…