Page 86 of The Rebel and the Rose
‘Let me see the welt.’ Theo leaned across the carriage,tilting Val’s face towards him. ‘It’s not too bad. It’ll fade in a few days.’
‘Stupid tree,’ she mumbled.
‘Tell Caruso about it next time we pull over,’ said Ransom. ‘Maybe he’ll go back and murder the elm for you.’
Theo shot him a blistering glare.
Smirking now, Ransom closed his eyes. ‘Relax, Versini. It was a joke.’
‘Someone died tonight,’ Val reminded him. ‘A terrible brute of a man. But… still.’
‘I’m sure Bram’s gold watch will cheer you up.’
‘Oh, whatever.’
Finally, a welcome stretch of silence.
Sera had almost nodded off when Theo piped up. ‘It was actually a birch tree.’
‘What?’ chorused Val and Sera.
‘It was a birch, not an elm,’ he said, stretching his legs out. ‘But how would a Tunnel Rat know that? I doubt they have trees in the flaming pits of hell.’
Ransom’s eyes flew open. ‘Well, you would know, Versini. Your ancestors are running it.’
‘All saints, would you two idiots shut up?’ snapped Val. ‘If you insist on having a pissing contest, then get out and walk.’ No sooner had she said it then the carriage vaulted over a ditch, tossing them all head-first into the roof.
Theo slammed his fist against the ceiling. ‘Pull over before you kill us all!’
Caruso and Nadia ignored him, crowing with laughter as they urged the horses onwards, into the darkening night. Seragripped the bench, holding on for dear life. Defeated, Theo sat back, exhaling through his nose. ‘Silver lining. At least our concussions will lull us to sleep.’
‘Notfunny,’ said Val.
But he was already out cold.
They neared Marvale as the sun was coming up. Thanks to the worries churning in her stomach, Sera was already wide awake. She was keen to finish her conversation with Ransom about the prince and the saints, but the Dagger was still fast asleep. Making a crack in the curtains, she pressed her face to the carriage window, inhaling a lungful of floral-scented air.
Marvale glimmered in the distance. In the early dawn light, a reddish hue lingered over the village. The buildings were made from the region’s unique red sandstone. Red-brick chimneys dotted a landscape of neat, pointed roofs, piping smoke into the blushing sky. At the far end of village, perched along the distant hills, stood the famed red mills, a unique cluster of taverns and dance halls that hosted all manner of merriment from dusk until dawn and back to dusk again. As the stories went, so long as the windmills were turning, there was fun to be made and opportunity to be seized.
At a sharp gasp from behind her, Sera turned in her seat. Ransom jerked awake. He was breathing too fast, his unseeing eyes wide with horror. His fists were clenched on his lap, his body jerking with half-sleep. His nightmare still had its claws in him.
Sera laid a gentle hand on his knee. ‘Hey,’ she whispered. ‘Good morning.’
Ransom blinked, quickly clearing the shadows behind his eyes. ‘Hey,’ he croaked. He raked a hand through his hair, settling the unruly strands. ‘I must have fallen asleep.’
‘Well. That was the idea.’
She could tell by his frown he hadn’t meant to. Perhaps he was afraid of the nightmares, or, more likely, what the others in the carriage might make of them.
Val woke with a groan, complaining about the crick in her neck. Theo was the last to rouse, indulging in a sprawling yawn as he came to.
Sera drew back the drapes. ‘We’re nearly there.’
They crowded the windows, peering out at their destination.
Just up ahead, the birthplace of Saint Oriel glittered like a living, breathing jewel.
Sera’s heart hitched – then stuttered in her chest. Her gaze had fallen from the red mills to the street ahead, to where a vaulted stone archway marked the entrance to Marvale. In the middle, etched in stone, were the words,
