Page 116 of Beyond the Cottage

The city was the same—Gretta wasn’t.

She no longer had a job. A powerful weapon against witches had fallen into her lap. Her captor had turned out to be her best friend, and he’d blown into her life like a tornado, uprooting her so thoroughly she barely knew herself anymore. In less than a week, she’d become a foreigner in her own life.

Ansel stopped beside her, observing the havoc. He swallowed uncertainly, and an achy tenderness stung Gretta. Another persistent, pesky side effect of forgiving him.

It was getting out of hand. It felt like a sickness, a physical wringing of her guts. And underneath that tenderness was dread. As they’d gotten closer to the city, the morbid premonition she’d lose him again grew.

Their journey wasn’t reality. The benefits of forced proximity couldn’t last forever. Even if Nat invested, that didn’t mean Ansel would stay in the capital. Judging by his expression, her home left much to be desired.

“I know it’s a lot,” she said. “Other parts of town are quieter.”

“I thought weekend nights in Antrelle were anarchy. This…” He gave his head a shake. After a long, loaded pause, he turned to her. “So.”

“So.”

“I suppose I should find a hotel.”

Gretta weakly nodded, grasping for something to say.

It’s been real? See ya when I see ya?

On the train, she’d no-big-deal offered to let him stay with her, but he’d declined, saying something about a little distance being good for friendship. She’d told herself he was right, that she needed a break, too. A return to her status quo would get her back to normal.

Now the reality of separating made her want to throw up on his boots.

He’s going to a hotel, not dying. Get your shit together.

There’d be plenty of time later to examine how swiftly and intensely she’d grown attached to him again.

“Lodging is expensive downtown,” she said. “My neighborhood has a hotel that’s cheap and clean. We can share a hack.” Adashmore proximity wouldn’t devastate their friendship.

He nodded, and she led him through throngs of jostling bodies.

“Watch out for pickpockets,” she said. “And don’t make eye contact with vendors, or you’ll never get rid of them.”

At the corner, she hailed a hack. After giving the driver her address, they got inside and trundled from the chaos to stately Richmond Boulevard. Ansel gaped out the open carriage window, and a warm breeze tousled his hair.

Spring had come earlier here than at the lake. Tiny leaves sprigged the elms lining the boulevard, and ornamentals scattered pollen and petals like snow. They passed greystones and townhouses, shops and cafes. The breeze carried the scent of chocolate from the Blumner candy factory. Also, a whiff of horse dung.

“The capitol building is that way,” she said, jerking her thumb. “You can see the spire from here.”

Ansel briefly glanced in that direction. Yawning, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his shoulders. His bicep flexed, and he winced.

“How’s the arm?” she asked.

“Fine. Tender is all.”

Gretta frowned. “You should get it looked at. There’s a hospital a couple miles away, I can ask the driver to take us.”

“No, thank you. I’d have to be on my deathbed to visit one of those cesspools.”

Gretta chewed her lip. He was eager for space, and she needed to go see Nat. But health came first, right?

“I have medical supplies at home,” she said, careful to keep her tone light. “You could pop in before the hotel.”

He hesitated. “I suppose that would be wise. I wouldn’t want it to infect.”

She hid a smile. This only meant a brief delay of the inevitable, but she’d take it.

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