I was never poor, not by most standards. But my father was. And his father. They were products of the streets. The slums. Where survival isn’t guaranteed and only a select few understand the feeling of a full stomach. At least that’s how he describes it. 

My father clawed his way up the economic class and into financial security. He doesn’t tell me all that much about what he had to do to achieve it. But he’s a businessman, and he’s pretty good at it. 

We aren’t poor. But we aren’t rich either. And so when the opportunity presented itself for my father to make even more money, he readily jumped at the offer. It’s every poor kid’s dream to make it big, be the one who got out. It’s something he had to prove, and no obstacle would get in his way. 

So we moved far from the town I was born in when I had just turned 17. I was upset, obviously, but my quarrels were nothing in the face of new riches. I bid my friends goodbye. Promised I would write. And my father, mother, and younger brother all hit carriage and left our old lives behind. 

To be honest, although I pitched a slight fit at leaving my friends, this whole ordeal was very exciting. 

My father had received a job working for a family of the aristocracy in the capital city. He wouldn’t specify exactly what the job was. But he never was a man of detail. 

“Quit touching my elbow!” Aaron piqued. My little brother. Small and very annoying blonde boy. His hair is even brighter than mine, bleached by the coastal sun of our hometown. He was always at the beach with his little pals, toiling in the surf and trying to practice their board skills in front of the older boys. 

I pinch him in response. 

“Mommmmm!” His voice raises in that little whine only kids can pull off. “Alex won’t stop touching me!” 

Again, a splash of annoyance. My father wanted a boy. So my name was Alex. I go by Alexia or Lexi or whatever, but on paper it’s Alex. And he knows it irks me. 

“Lex, quit messing with your brother,” she replies classically, without looking up from her book. 

Before I can spit out a reply my father interrupts. 

“Look! We’re here.” 

And we are. I look out the carriage window. A large house, much bigger than the one I had grown up in, looms in front of me. It’s great and white, with TWO balconies protruding from the upper floor. 

“Can you believe it?” My father asks rhetorically. “And twenty whole acres right outside the city? We’re practically nobles.” And we were, in a sense. The property was actually located on the Rogan family estate, but as part of my father coming under their service they had given it to him, along with some land. 

“I call dibs on first bed!” Aaron shouts. My father laughs. “There’s too many to choose from.”  My brother's eyes widened in disbelief. The only house we’d seen in our lives even close to this level was the Aricott mansion back home, and they’d built onto it over generations. 

Aaron chooses a very large room on the second floor, complete with its own bath. But after further consideration, he downgrades to a smaller room next door to my parents. Because of ‘the vibe’ and totally not anything else. Scaredy cat. 

I got a large room on the second floor, one with a balcony. It’s the nicest place I’ve ever slept, and boy do I sleep. I have to be pried out of bed by my mother who tells me we’re going into town to tour around and check out the new school. 

The capital is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. Great tall buildings stretch on either side as we stroll through a farmers market. Shops with the most beautiful clothing and jewelry line every corner. People are constantly trying to grab your attention and sell you something. My mother gave us each a little to spend on something nice. My brother immediately went to look at knives. But then folded for sweets from the candy shop. I spot a jeweler and approach him, when suddenly a lady slams into me and grabs my arms. She’s hysterical, tears streaming down her face and her eyes wide with terror. 

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Please, have you seen my baby? Please help me!” 

“Woahhh. Calm down ma’am,” I say grabbing, her shoulders. My first thought is to find my mother. She’s an expert people person. Me? Not so much “What do they look like?” 

“She’s six years old, and blonde and about this tall,” she puts her hand at her waist. “Her name is Cecily. Please help me. Nobody else will.” Again she clings to my dress. 

“Of course I-“ 

“I’ll help as well.” I turn around. A tall young man with sandy hair and hazel eyes looks down at us. 

“Oh thank you Liam! Quickly please!”  The stress in her voice is palpable, and it only adds to my own. The woman pivots off in a random direction and I start off in the opposite when the young man, Liam, grabs my arm. 

“Wait,” he says. “I have an idea.” Ignoring the question of trust or stranger danger, I go with him at a brisk walk shouldering through crowds of people. He leads me over to an alleyway, where he lets go of my arm. He then proceeds to climb up the side of the building using the gutter system and available window sills. I’m amazed. Multiple stories cleared in a matter of seconds. 

“Wait there for a second,” He shouts, and gazes over the crowd. 

“I think I see her!” Instant relief. How he can sift through so many people and spot her is beyond me. 

“Where?” I ask. 

“Towards the meat market. Head in that direction and I’ll stay up here and keep an eye on her.”

I walked past the meat market earlier, and so I beeline my way over. “Excuse me,” I utter as I pierce a crowd, or maybe family considering their resemblance, of very overweight and very short people. I ignore any response they might’ve given. 

I reach the meat market and do a full 360. Still no little blond girl. “Cecily! I shout, hoping to attract her attention. No dice. I turn back towards where Liam was positioned, and notice he has jumped the alley and walked closer to the meat market. He points down at an area in front of me. I follow his direction and nearly plow the kid over as I weave around a large and burly man. She’s crying and just standing there. 

“Cecily?” I ask, not wanting to scare the child. She turns to face me, all the while rubbing her eyes with her fists. 

“Yes?” She asks questioningly. “Who are you?”

“Im… your mommy’s friend! She’s looking for you, and she’s worried sick.” I hold out my hand and smile reassuringly. “Let’s go find her, okay?” 

She looks at me hesitantly, but you can see the relief in her eyes. Poor baby. She takes my hand and we make our way to the edge of the crowd to look for her mother. Liam appears from the crowd. 

“Hurrah! Mission accomplished.” And offers Cecily a fist-bump. 

“How was your adventure?” He asks her. 

“Scary,” she replied shyly. 

“But she was so brave,” I respond, and her face turns red. I almost think she’s going to cry again, but she’s just embarrassed. 

Liam flashes me a smile. “I’m Liam by the way,” he holds out his hand. 

“Alexia,” I reply, shaking his hand. 

“That’s a beautiful name,” he says. Now that I can really size him up, he’s quite handsome. The sun had begun to turn fiery and dip below the horizon, sending his amber eyes aglow. I feel my face heat up. 

“Thank you.” 

“What about me? Do I have a good name?” Cecily interjects. It seems she has warmed up to us. 

Liam laughs. It’s a very pleasant laugh, like unbroken water flowing over creek rocks. 

“Your name is also beautiful.” He crouches down, his voice in a loud whisper in her ear. “I only said that to her so she wouldn’t be jealous of you.”

“But her name IS beautiful,” Cecily protests. Aww. Sweet thing.  

“If only you could’ve been my little sister instead.” I tell her. 

“Lex!” A voice shouts from the crowd. My mother. “We’re leaving, let’s go.” 

I turn to explain to her our predicament, but Liam speaks before I can. 

“It’s alright. I’ll take her to her mother.” He pauses before meeting my gaze. “If you want, you can find me at the firehouse. Usually. I’ll show you around.” 

“How do you know I’m not a local?” I challenge playfully, raising an eyebrow. 

“I’d have recognized you if you were.” His gaze rakes over my body, almost in a predatory manner. But it’s only for a second. I brush it away mentally. 

“Okay, well, thanks for all your help.” I say with a farewell bow of the head. 

“My pleasure.” 

I give Cecily a little wave and join up with my mother and the annoying one. 

“Who was that?” Mom asks slyly. “He was pretty handsome.” She says, eyebrows raising and lowering repeatedly. The annoying one tries to copy her. 

“I have no idea.” I reply.