Page 48 of A Slipper in the Smoke
“Elena!” he called, more loudly, running down the street.
One of the doors rolled up, and her beautiful, engine-grease stained face rose out of the gloom.
“Pip?” she questioned, eyes widening. “What are you doing here?”
Pip didn’t answer. Instead, he ran towards her, unfolding his arms and yanking her roughly into his chest, inhaling the scent of soot and oil andher.She was all right. She wasn’t hurt. She was here.
Elena didn’t protest at how roughly he’d grabbed her. She seemed to melt into his arms, shrinking several sizes.
“They killed her,” she whimpered into his jacket, her fingers balling into his clothes.
Pip’s blood chilled. “Who?”
“Grandma. Not… not my grandma… just… just this old lady that used to tell stories… and the queen’s soldiers killed her… shot her in the square… then everyone else, everyone else they…”
She started to sob, quietly at first, and then louder and louder, like a river breaking through a dam. She sniffled and choked, gulping air. Pip steered her back inside, navigating her into a chair, trying to close the door one handedly but not wanting to move away from her. Not daring to. He held her for what seemed like hours, until there could not have been any liquid left in her.
Mira did this,he thought. Not the soldiers, not the rebellion, not the riots. A person. A person had broken Elena. A person he’d smiled at and taken breakfast with this morning, and who would be expecting him at dinner in a matter of hours.
It was the first time he could remember wanting to hurt someone.
Slowly, eventually, Elena’s sobs subsided. Pip handed her a handkerchief with which to dry her face. It looked bitterly out of place here, all silk and lace.
“I’m sorry,” said Elena.
Pip smoothed back a lock of hair from her face, finger catching on an errant tear. “What are you apologising for?”
“For being such a mess—”
“I don’t think you should apologise for having a completely logical reaction to witnessing an execution and being caught up in a riot, but there you go.”
“Wouldn’t you apologise?”
“Of course, but I’m Toulousian. We say sorry for everything.”
Elena half-laughed, half-sobbed. “How did you find me?”
“Luck, mostly. A fair bit of nerve, too.”
“Will you get into any trouble—”
Pip thought of Susan and the platter she’d have his head on if she found out he’d left the palace. “Oh, someone’s covering for me, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Are you lying?”
“Only about one of those things.”
Elena sniffed into the handkerchief. “Thank you for coming to find me. You didn’t have to.”
“I really did.”
Elena’s eyes—somehow greener for the crying—lifted to his. Her entire face seemed moon-bright and soft, and Pip wanted more than anything else in the world to press his lips to hers and kiss away her tears.
She’s just been through a traumatic event,he reminded himself,this is not your moment.
And if he kissed her now, would he ever let her go?
He pressed his forehead to hers instead, his fingers winding into hers. “Are you all right?” he asked.
