Page 35 of Pretense

At the train, Essie’s mother met him, then climbed onto the train in front of him.

He did not question her presence. Of course she would come. A mother would want to be with her daughter. Would want to be there if…

He shook his head and forced himself to climb the steps and enter the Escarlish royal seating car.

Essie’s mother was already there, arranging the pillows on the bench-like couch that filled one side of the seating area beneath the paned windows.

Farrendel stumbled his way around one of the chairs and the low table in the center before he sank onto the couch, cradling Essie to him.

Essie’s mother adjusted the pillow behind him, helped him situate Essie so that her legs were propped on the couch and her upper body was supported against Farrendel, her head on his chest. Finally, her mother spread a blanket over them.

“Linshi, Macha.” Farrendel leaned his head against the pillows propped behind him, trying to catch his breath after the short walk to the train.

“If you need anything, I’m here.” She took a seat across from them, her face drawn, her gaze focused on Essie.

The surgeon climbed on board, strode over to them, and checked Essie’s pulse. After a moment, he nodded. “She still seems stable. I must attend to the elf that was injured.”

Iyrinder. Farrendel had barely given him a thought. But he managed a nod now, even as the surgeon turned and left the car for the next one.

The train gave a lurch, then slowly eased into motion.

Farrendel squeezed his eyes shut, gripping Essie’s hand and holding her to him.

Eight hours. He had to keep her alive for eight hours.

His breathing hitched, panic clawing at his chest, whirling in his head.

In his arms, Essie’s muscles seized, her breathing growing fast and fluttering in time with his.

No. He could not give in to the panic. Essie needed him to take deep, steady breaths. He could panic later.

He forced himself to drag in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Essie’s chest rose and fell in time with his, her heart beating with his. The bandage over her shoulder showed hints of red, and he shifted to press their joined hands over the wound.

Pain scraped his chest with every breath, but Farrendel breathed through it. After all, this agony was nothing new. He had endured worse at the hands of the trolls. That pain had continued for two weeks. Eight hours was nothing compared to that.

It was still far too long. He rested his cheek lightly against the top of Essie’s hair, drawing in a breath, drawing in her pain, and releasing his breath and releasing his strength to her.

He was going to get her to the elf healer. Or die trying.

Chapter Twelve

Jalissa wandered the library, her heart beating a little faster in her chest. Would Elidyr be working late again? She had seen a light gleaming through the windows and hoped it was him. This would be awkward if she found herself face-to-face with one of the other librarians and clerks who worked in the library here at Ellonahshinel.

But as she rounded the corner of one of the shelves, she found Elidyr, placing books back on a shelf. As soon as he spotted her, Elidyr dropped into a bow, his eyes respectfully turned toward the floor. “Amirah.”

Jalissa smiled and took one of the books from him. “Would you mind some company?”

“No, of course not, amirah.” He remained stiff, but he held out half the stack of books.

They did not speak as they shelved the books, but there was something comfortable—and comforting—about it. For a few hours, at least, this quiet servant’s companionship banished her gnawing worry for her brothers.

Jalissa stared as the train pulled away from Winstead Palace, wheels clacking against the iron rails in a raucous rhythm so unlike the smooth, nearly silent elven trains.

As the train disappeared out of sight and the guards swung closed the large, wooden gates where the tracks passed through the palace wall, something inside her snapped. She spun on Edmund, hands clenched. “They were supposed to be safe!”

She was not sure why she was all but shouting. She swung her fists at Edmund’s chest, tears blurring his blue shirt.

He gripped her hands, pressing her fists against the warmth of his chest. “I know. I know, Jalissa.”

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