Chapter 41 A Different Kind of Magic

The Quarter was alive, as it always seemed to be after dusk. The hum of conversation spilled from balconies strung with beads, jazz wafted from an open club door, and lanterns painted the cobblestones with flickers of gold.

Rhyan walked beside Shanta, hands shoved awkwardly into the pockets of her sundress as if she had nowhere else to put them. Shanta, in contrast, moved easily—her bangles jingling with every sway of her arms, her posture relaxed, confident, like the street itself belonged to her.

“So,” Rhyan said, breaking the silence, “do you always close the shop this late?”

Shanta shot her a grin. “Only when my aunt keeps students after hours. Normally we’re done before sundown. But with you two?” She shrugged. “Magic doesn’t run on business hours.”

Rhyan laughed softly. “Tell me about it. Ever since I got here, my life has felt… rewired. Like I’m plugged into an outlet I never knew existed.”

Shanta tilted her head, eyes glinting in the lamplight. “And how do you feel about that?”

Rhyan hesitated. “Terrified. But also… alive. It’s like someone handed me a piece of myself I didn’t know was missing.”

“Good,” Shanta said simply. “That’s how it’s supposed to feel.”

They wandered into a side street where a small night market was in full swing. Stalls spilled over with bright scarves, hand-carved trinkets, jars of preserves, and rows of candles that smelled of honey and spice.

Shanta stopped at one booth, fingering a string of beads. “These are lovely,” she murmured, then glanced at Rhyan. “Would look good on you.”

Rhyan flushed, shaking her head. “I’m not really a jewelry person.”

Shanta smirked. “Maybe you just haven’t had the right person put it on you yet.”

Rhyan nearly tripped over her own feet. “You—” She cleared her throat. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” Shanta hummed, clearly enjoying herself. She bought the beads anyway, tossing them into her bag.

They strolled past a musician playing violin, the sound rising sweet and sad above the chatter. Rhyan paused, watching the bow glide across the strings, and felt something stir in her chest. “I used to play,” she said quietly.

Shanta turned to her. “Yeah?”

“Not like that. Just school orchestra stuff.” Rhyan smiled wistfully. “I gave it up when college got too busy. But sometimes I miss it. The way the sound felt under your chin, like it was yours, like you were making something out of thin air.”

“That’s magic too,” Shanta said. “You know that, right? Anything that creates, anything that changes the air around you—that’s power.”

Rhyan looked at her, startled by the conviction in her tone. “You really believe that?”

Shanta’s smile softened. “With my whole heart.”

By the time they left the market, the crowds had thinned and the streets were quieter. They walked side by side, the silence between them less awkward now, more comfortable—like the hum of a song only they could hear.

Shanta glanced at her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Your friend—Lorraine. She told you what I said about you?”

Rhyan’s cheeks flamed instantly. “She… may have mentioned it.”

“And?”

Rhyan laughed nervously. “And I didn’t know what to say. I still don’t, honestly.” She pushed a hand through her hair. “I’ve never really labeled myself, you know? I just… I like who I like. If they make me laugh, if they have a good soul, I don’t care if they’re a guy, a girl, or anything in between.”

Shanta’s expression softened. “That’s fair. That’s honest.” She stepped a little closer, her shoulder brushing Rhyan’s. “For what it’s worth, I think that makes you braver than most people.”

Rhyan swallowed hard, her pulse quickening. “Brave? I feel like I’m stumbling half the time.”

Shanta chuckled. “Everyone stumbles. It’s who you grab onto that matters.”

The words lingered, heavy with possibility.

Their wandering brought them down toward the Mississippi, where the river’s black water glistened under moonlight. They sat on a bench, the sound of water lapping against the levee soothing in the distance.

For a while, they didn’t speak. Rhyan tilted her head back, staring up at the stars barely visible through city haze. “I never thought I’d end up here,” she admitted. “New Orleans, magic, danger… and someone like you.”

Shanta arched a brow. “Someone like me?”

Rhyan bit her lip. “Confident. Grounded. Strong.” She exhaled, embarrassed by her own words. “You just… you seem to know who you are. I admire that.”

Shanta’s smile gentled. “It wasn’t always like that. Took a long time to claim myself. Took a lot of mistakes, too.” She reached into her bag, pulling out the beaded necklace she’d bought earlier. “Here.”

Rhyan blinked. “What?”

Shanta leaned closer, holding it out. “Let me.”

With hands surprisingly gentle, she draped the beads around Rhyan’s neck, her fingers brushing the back of her skin as she fastened the clasp. Rhyan shivered at the touch, goosebumps prickling her arms.

“There,” Shanta murmured, her voice low. “Now it looks like it was always meant for you.”

Rhyan’s breath hitched. She reached up, fingers brushing the beads, then whispered, “Thank you.”

Shanta leaned back, satisfied. “Anytime.”

Silence stretched again, but it wasn’t empty. It was thick, alive, full of something neither dared to name.

Rhyan turned to her, words tumbling out before she could stop them. “I don’t know where this is going. I don’t even know if I’m ready for anything. But… I like being with you. Tonight, I don’t feel scared. I feel…” She trailed off, searching. “I feel like myself.”

Shanta’s eyes softened, her bracelets catching the moonlight as she reached out to take Rhyan’s hand. “Then that’s enough. No labels, no promises. Just this moment. Just you and me, walking into whatever comes next.”

Rhyan’s chest ached, full and fragile. She squeezed Shanta’s hand, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Just this moment.”

For a heartbeat, it felt like the world narrowed to the warmth of their joined hands and the endless dark of the river stretching beyond them.

And maybe, Rhyan thought, that was its own kind of magic.