by Tara Grayce
Farrendel didn’t resist as Lord Bletchly pressed a rag over his mouth and nose. He met and held Essie’s gaze.
Essie blinked, trying to keep her eyes open. Heaviness filled her arms, her legs.
She was being dragged through a doorway. Lord Bletchly hauled Farrendel after her, keeping the rag over his face. The lord patted Farrendel down, removing knives from each of Farrendel’s boots.
She was on the floor, blinking up at the man standing over her. Light brown hair, a slim face.
Mark Hadley. There was something significant about the fact that he was standing there. But she couldn’t...quite...
Sleepy...dizzy...blackness...
HER HEAD POUNDED. Essie groaned and tried to find a more comfortable position on her pillow.
Except that her head wasn’t resting on her pillow. It was thunking against something hard in time with a clatter that almost sounded like...
Train wheels.
Essie blinked and pushed herself onto her elbows. Her head spun at the movement, her stomach lurching. She barely swallowed back the bile in time to keep from hurling the contents of her stomach onto the freight car’s wooden floor. Still, the bile provided some relief in her far too dry mouth.
The train boxcar clattered again as its wheels rattled from one section of rail to the next, thumping her body up and down on the floor. Wind whistled through the cracks in the slatted wall, shivering against her skin.
She still wore her green silk dress, gloves up to her elbows, and dancing slippers on her feet. Patting her leg, she located the derringer still strapped to her calf. They must not have searched her thoroughly, not expecting a princess would be carrying a weapon.
Drawing in a deep breath to try to calm her nauseous stomach and hammering head, she pushed all the way to a sitting position and, slowly so as not to cause another wave of dizziness, studied her surroundings.
In front of her, the train car was dark and empty. Not even a pebble or a spare crate that could be turned into a weapon if her derringer’s one shot wasn’t enough. At least her hands were free. Maybe she could pry a loose board from the floor or the slats. Not that any piece of wood rotted enough to break off would be much use as a weapon, but it would be a distraction if thrown at someone’s face.
A muffled groan came from behind her. She eased around as fast as she could in the shaking train with her head swirling and aching.
Farrendel lay curled on his side on the train floor, his back to her. Blood puddled on the wooden floor beneath his shackled wrists.
“Farrendel!” Essie crawled across the train car until she reached his side. She rested a hand on his shoulder. “Are you all right? Are you awake?”
He gave another small groan, curling and uncurling before he blinked up at her. “Help me up.”
With his hands shackled behind his back, he couldn’t push upright by himself. She heaved him upright and helped him shift back until he leaned against the wall of the train car.
She reached for his hands. “Let’s see about those shackles.”
“No, do not touch.” Farrendel shifted to keep his bound hands away from her. “These are not iron shackles. They are stone and ice, made by the trolls. I do not know what they might do to you.”
Essie held up her hand. “I’m wearing gloves. And I’ll be careful. Just let me see. You’re bleeding.”
He leaned forward, and she peered around his shoulder. The shackles clamped around his wrists, but the inside of each manacle was spiked, almost like the stone had claws digging into Farrendel’s skin.
She couldn’t get those shackles off. They were embedding themselves into his skin, just like he’d described the trolls doing to hold him captive fifteen years ago.
She sat back on her heels and tugged on Farrendel’s neckcloth. “I can use this to try to stop the bleeding, at least. And free you from one constricting item, even if it isn’t the shackles.”
Tugging the neckcloth free, she tried to rip it. But fabric didn’t simply tear when someone yanked hard enough.
“I still have a knife strapped to my back that they did not find.” Farrendel leaned forward.
“Really? That will be helpful.” Essie blinked at him a moment before realizing she would have to be the one to draw it. She blamed her still aching head. “Um, right.”
Now to try not to make this more awkward than it already was. She wormed her hand beneath the collar of his tailcoat, then beneath his shirt. The tips of her fingers brushed the top of the knife, but she couldn’t quite get her arm far enough down the back of his shirt with his tailcoat as tailored around his shoulders as it was.
He was doing a good job of hiding it, but his wince meant this was probably uncomfortable for him as well. His collar must be choking him.
“All right, new plan.” Essie worked her hand free. “Let’s get that tailcoat off. Actually, it will work even better than the neckcloth for stopping the bleeding since we can wad it up around the shackles.”
“Do not worry about my wrists. The knife is most important.” Farrendel flexed his shoulders, as if he could shrug the tailcoat free by himself.
It took her tugging and Farrendel wiggling to peel the tailcoat from his shoulders and down his arms. With her hands still gloved, Essie tucked the tailcoat around his wrists, wincing every time he flinched. She tried not to think about his blood soaking through her gloves to squish against her fingers. She refused to let panic lodge in her chest at the fact he was shackled with manacles laced with troll magic.
When she finished tucking the tailcoat into the manacles and around his wounds as much as possible, she peeled her gloves off her trembling fingers. She forced a smile to her face as she untied the ribbon binding his hair, then undid the first few buttons of his shirt. “Well, this night isn’t as romantic as I thought it would be.”
She’d hoped to earn at least a flicker of a smile from him. But all she got was his hard expression. His warrior focus.
This time when she wormed her hand underneath his shirt, she tried not to think too much about her now gloveless fingers brushing his warm skin. This wasn’t the time for romantic thoughts. They were on a train captured by the Escarlish traitors. They needed his knife.
Her fingers located the knife’s hilt, then followed it down to what felt like plaster bandages rather than a traditional sheath. No wonder the traitors hadn’t found it. Farrendel had plastered it in place with bandages, making the knife lie flat beneath his fitted tailcoat rather than a sheath, leather straps, and buckles that would have caused telltale lumps beneath his clothes.
This was Farrendel’s last ditch knife. It wouldn’t have been easy for him to draw, even without his hands shackled behind his back. This was for when things went terribly wrong.
With a yank, Essie peeled the bandages and the knife from Farrendel’s back, earning her a wince. At least it was some expression. His hard stillness settled like a weight in her stomach. He only became Laesornysh when things were dire.
Withdrawing her hand, she peeled the bandages from the knife. “I can use these bandages on your wrists, if the tailcoat isn’t working as well as I hoped. Then we can use the knife to try to open the train car’s door. It’s probably a simple latch. We should be able to get it open. The train will have to stop sooner or later for coal and water, so we can jump out and make our escape then.”
“Essie.”
“I still have my gun, and you’ll have the knife, though hopefully we shouldn’t have to fight our way out if we’re quick. And then we’ll see if we can find a horse or a wagon or something. We’re bound to be near a town.”
“Essie.”
“Unless Lord Bletchly had this train track specially built without putting it on the official maps of the train routes across the kingdom. Or maybe it was Mark Hadley. Do you think Mark is working with his father or is his father ignorant of what his son has been doing? I guess we’ll have to find out after we escape. It shouldn’t be that much longer until we stop. Trains—”
“Essie.” Farrendel’s voice rang harder, sharper than she’d ever heard him use with her.
She snapped her mouth shut. When she glanced down, she spotted her fingers, white knuckled and shaking, gripping the knife. Her breathing was coming far too fast, and the echoes from her voice was ringing too high-pitched.
Farrendel’s face softened. “Essie, I need you to listen.”
She drew in a ragged breath and sat facing Farrendel. “Sorry. All right, I’m listening.”
“This train is not going to stop. Not until we reach the border.” Farrendel leaned his head against the slatted wall. “It is powered by a magical device. I can feel it.”
That meant they couldn’t escape when the train stopped for coal and water. Essie had known the Hadley trains ran only on magical devices. Averett had mentioned it only the night before. “We can still pry the door open and jump—”
“Not at this speed. The fall would most likely kill us.” His tone said it was something he’d already examined and ruled out as a possibility.
Essie let out another long, slow breath. He didn’t need her to come up with ideas. He’d already sorted through all possible actions and settled on a plan. This was, after all, what he’d trained for as Laesornysh. Right now, all he needed from her was to listen. She crawled closer to him and rested her hand on his knee. “What’s the plan?”
“They think these shackles will be enough to stop my magic. They were enough, fifteen years ago, and within the stones of Winstead Palace. But not now. When we stop, I will have enough magic to fight back.”
“That’s wonderful. Then we can—”
“Essie...” He dragged her name out. His expression didn’t look like this was a wonderful revelation. If anything, his tight mouth had turned grim.
“Right. Sorry. Listening.” Essie squeezed her hands together.
“I will only have enough magic for one diversion. It will leave me weak.” He drew in a deep breath, holding her gaze. “That is why, when I cause the diversion, you will escape.”
“But you’ll be coming too, right? We’ll meet up later or...or...” She read the truth in his eyes, the taut line of his mouth. “I’m not leaving you behind.”
“We know who the Escarlish traitors are. When this train stops at the border, we may find out whom the Tarenhieli traitor is. That information is vital to both of our kingdoms. You must escape, no matter what. You cannot risk being recaptured, not even on the chance to save me.” Farrendel’s gaze drilled into her. “Promise me you will escape. Our brothers need to be told, and you are the only one who can tell them.”
She swallowed back her protest, forcing herself to think. He was not simply sending her away, like one of her brothers would have, because she was the helpless female who had to be protected.
His protectiveness played a role, but it wasn’t only that. He was trusting her to be an important part of his plan. It made the most logical sense that he, with his magic, would be the diversion and hold off their attackers. Therefore, the duty to escape with the crucial information fell to her.
He was trusting her to be his fellow warrior in this. To do what needed to be done for the good of both their kingdoms. If she failed to escape, then his sacrifice would be meaningless.
His sacrifice...something inside Essie shook, but she forced it down. “I promise. I’ll escape and give this information to our brothers.”
They would have to act on this side of the border. If she escaped on the Tarenhieli side, the elven towns were much more scattered. She would have farther to go to fetch help, and the elves might not recognize her or help her right away.
At the Escarlish border, she wouldn’t be far from an army outpost, even if it was only a watchtower with a few soldiers stationed there. It would still have a telegraph and fast horses to make sure those stationed there could give warning of an attack. They would recognize their princess and give aid without question.
“I’ll come back for you. In may take a few hours, but I’ll get help at the nearest outpost. I’ll just need you to hang on until then.” She let that thought send strength into her legs, her fingers. She wouldn’t abandon Farrendel for long. Surely he would have enough magic to hold off Lord Bletchly, Mark Hadley, the elven traitor, and whomever else was waiting at the border.
“Essie.” For the first time since they’d started this conversation, Farrendel’s gaze dropped from hers to focus on the floor of the train car. “I do not intend to let them take me alive again.”
For a moment, she could just blink at him. Surely, he didn’t mean...he couldn’t intend to...
But he still wasn’t looking at her, his shoulders tense.
She gripped the front of his shirt, kneeling so close her knees pressed into his leg. “No, Farrendel. No. If you’re captured, we’ll rescue you. I’ll rally both our brothers, and—”
“No.” His gaze whipped up to hers so fast, she had to catch her breath at the intensity. His silver-blue eyes glinted. “No. Do not let them try to rescue me. My father died last time. I could not live knowing my rescue cost your brothers or my brother their lives.”
“But...”
“You said it was my father’s choice last time. Please, Essie. This time, let the sacrifice be my choice. Please.” His gaze fell to the train car’s floor. “I cannot face that torture again, and I cannot let my brother die to rescue me.”
Everything in her ached to argue. To beg him to surrender rather than fight to the death.
But could she ask him to surrender, knowing the agony he’d face? Could she ask him to face torture again for her? Who would demand such suffering from another person?
This was goodbye. Not just while he went off to war. But forever.
“Farrendel...” She tightened her grip on his shirt, then leaned forward and kissed him.
This kiss was tears and desperation. Her hands in his hair. The heat swirling between them. Kissing his mouth, cheek, neck, back to his mouth until she was breathless. From kissing or from swallowing back her sobs, she didn’t know.
When she finally pulled back, it was only to see his eyes. “Please promise me this. That you’ll try to live for me. If there’s a chance you can escape after I’m long gone or you can hold out until I come back with reinforcements, then please try. And if they do capture you, then please survive. I will come for you.”
“No, Essie...”
She cut him off with a quick kiss. “I know you want to be the one to sacrifice this time. That it will kill you if me or my brothers or your brother died to save you. I get it. I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen. But I know my brothers. And I think I know yours. If you’re captured, they won’t rest until they rescue you, no matter what I say. So please promise me you’ll fight with every breath in your body to get back to me.”
As her hands were still in his hair, she felt more than saw his nod.
That took some of the frantic energy from her fingers. She rested her head against his shoulder, snuggling into him as best she could with his hands bound behind his back. “This won’t be like last time, you know. The trolls will plan a trap knowing how your brother will try to rescue you. But they won’t know how to anticipate my brothers. They are about to find out just how big a mistake they made in having us snatched from Winstead Palace’s grounds.” She curled one hand into his shirt while she reached behind him and clasped his cold fingers with the other. “I wonder why they did it. It is sure to bring Escarland into the war, and that can’t be their plan.”
“They want to incite a war between Tarenhiel and Escarland again.” Farrendel rested his cheek against her hair. “My brother will be furious that I was captured while under your brother’s protection. And if your body were to turn up abandoned in some ditch in Tarenhiel, your brother would blame mine.”
Another reason Essie needed to escape. She wasn’t about to let her corpse be used as a catalyst for a war. “We won’t let that happen. If I can get proof that the trolls executed an operation like thi
s on Escarlish soil, it will be an act of war. Parliament won’t stand in Averett’s way any longer.”
“I do not know what we will find at the border, but I would surmise the trolls will have sent some of their soldiers. If they intend to take me alive back to Kostaria, they will need to provide the elven traitor with help to cross Tarenhiel.” His voice vibrated in his chest beneath her ear. A strangely soothing sound, for all that they were talking about war and death and forever goodbyes.
“Then I will do my best to snatch something to act as proof, if I can do it without risking my life or my escape.” Essie stifled a yawn. Her headache was going away, fading against the warmth of Farrendel’s chest as the train continued to clatter rhythmically onward.
“You should rest. You will need to be alert when we arrive at the border.”
“I don’t want to sleep away our time together. Not if...” She couldn’t finish. A tear coursed wet and scalding down her cheek and onto her chin. But she wasn’t sure she could just sit here either, knowing each clack of the wheels took her closer to having Farrendel ripped from her. “I don’t think I can do this. I don’t want you to die.”
The last word was a sob. She didn’t want to be weak. She didn’t want to fall apart into tears.
But she loved Farrendel and he was probably going to die and if that wasn’t a good enough reason to take a few minutes to cry, then she didn’t know what was.
He held still as she sobbed, his cheek against her hair, his fingers squeezing hers.
As she sniffled and hiccupped her way to silence, Farrendel pressed a kiss into her hair. “Please, no matter what happens, do not stop smiling. I could not bear it if you became broken. Not because of me.”
Broken like he was. He didn’t say it out loud, but that’s what he meant.
Right now, she didn’t know if she could promise that. She’d always thought she could smile through anything. That she didn’t have to face life crying.
She couldn’t smile about this. If he died, would she ever manage to smile again?