Page 73 of War Bound

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.”

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