Page 36 of Skalterra By Nightmare
“It’s physics.”
“Do it again!” Fana extended her head forward as if to offer me her nose.
Tiernan stood to rip the cloak from the floorboards, and he pressed Fana back in her seat with a protective hand.
“The Sovereign needs food and rest,” Tiernan growled. “Orla, take the Nightmare to the dining cart to find us something to eat.”
“Galahad said to—”
“Galahad is an old windbag who can’t even scrounge up a decent Nightmare anymore, and as the only guard of a living Sovereign, I outrank all of you.” Tiernan glared at me as he said it. He fell back into his seat and tapped his boot against my leather greaves. “Now go.”
“I can go get food,” Orla conceded with a frown, “but Wren should stay with you. She’s here to protect—”
“I don’t need its help,” Tiernan grunted.
“Oh?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “That surprises me. You found ‘it’plenty useful last night.”
Orla paused at the door.
“Howdidyou stop the Grimguard last night?” Orla asked. Tiernan kicked his boots up onto Orla’s abandoned seat by the window. He stared out at the passing forest instead of answering.
“He blew me up,” I said.
“You did not!” Orla swatted at Tiernan’s head. He ducked ruefully, but otherwise took the punishment. “Just-Wren is our friend. We don’t blow up our friends.”
“It’s a Nightmare, Orla, no different than the ones that fight and die for us any other night. Don’t get attached.”
Orla pressed her lips together, but whirled away from Tiernan. She grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me to my feet and out the hall.
“My shoes—” I tried to say, but when I scanned the floor for my boots, they’d been replaced by a small pile of ash. Orla marched me into the rattling corridor that smelled of dust and iron before I could better investigate what had become of my footwear.
Windows and wood panels made up the wall to our left, and doors of frosted glass lined our right. Beneath my wool socks, the carpet was worn and faded. It was remarkably similar to the trains I’d been on at home, even if it did feel a bit dated.
Galahad stood at the cart exit, and he raised a threatening, bushy eyebrow at us.
“The Sovereign is back the way you came.”
“Tiernan’s mood will keep the Grimguard away,” Orla sniffed. “Also, he told us to go to the dining cart and that he outranks you.”
Galahad’s eye twitched, but Tiernan’s assertion of rank must’ve held some merit because he didn’t protest.
“Be kind to Tiernan,” he said through clenched teeth. “He’s mourning Caitria.”
“Then what was his excuse before she died? Did you know he blew up Just-Wren last night?”
Galahad locked eyes with me, and I clenched my left hand, curling my fingers in over the scars he’d left there. He knew I was down to three lives. His eyes flickered over my wool socks, and his eyebrows furrowed.
“If Tiernan decided the best course of action to fight the Grimguard was to blow up the Nightmare, then so be it. That’s what she’s here for,” he said simply, and my stomach knotted.
He really would let me die and feel no remorse over it.
“Then at least let her enjoy some pastries while she’s stuck here getting blown up.” Orla wrapped her arm around my elbow and pulled me to her side in a show of solidarity.
“She’s getting blown up for her own world too, don’t forget.” It felt like a reminder to me rather than Orla. “And she isn’t your pet. You shouldn’t waste your money on pastries for a person that isn’t real.”
“Then let me wastemymoney.” A firm hand landed on my shoulder as Ferrin appeared behind us. “We have a long road ahead. Let them enjoy the dining cart.”
Galahad narrowed his eyes, but he stepped aside, letting us pass into the open air between passenger carts. The rumbling of the train and the howling of the dark wind that rushed passed were louder out here. My cloak and blue hair whipped around me in a flurry of fabric.
