Page 95 of Emma & Edmund

"Probably because I told him there was nothing left to pay him with. But don't worry, I bought the coach off him."

Spinning on her heel, Emma didn't hesitate to grab his collar. While he didn't budge an inch, he still looked shocked at her suddenness.

"What do you mean,nothing left to pay him with? We had plenty yesterday."

"Well, we don't today," Molek recovered from his shock quickly, seemingly reveling in Emma's growing anger.

"That wasn't your money to spend! What are we going to do now? We have days left to go." As much as she would never admit it, Emma felt tears of panic prick at her eyes. She felt so foolish, having trusted him for even just a moment. Of course, he would ruin everything, it was literally what he was created to do.

"Now, now, calm down," Emma ripped her hands away as he patted at them gently, her toes curling with the sudden change in his tone. "I'll drive us today, and we'll figure it out from there."

"You'll have to excuse me if I cannot believe you. What if you're seen?"

"Don't you worry about that," he easily pried her hands away from him, cracking her bones hard enough for her to wince. "I have friends where we're going."

Pulling the cloak's hood even further around his face, Molek turned away from her and trotted up the road, leaving Emma, with all her questions and frustrations, in the dust. Groaning aloud, she knew there was no choice but to follow.

The rest of the morning was spent with Molek rocking the cabin back and forth so violently, urging the horses on faster and faster, that Emma had to tuck her head between her knees to keep from being sick. Trees, towns, and people blurred by the window so quickly that it made her stomach turn even harder to watch it.

It seemed at the same moment she finally grew used to the rattling cabin, the horses came to a skittering halt. Throwing a hand over her mouth, Emma barely managed to keep back a bout of sickness when the cabin door was ripped open.

Fields stretched out beyond the road, the crops reaching to the bright sun. Farmhouses dotted the horizon, but no other travelers could be seen.

"Come now," came the much too loud voice of Molek, his mask and hood firmly affixed.

"Why are we stopping here?"

"Humans eat, don't they? I can't have you wasting away before we even get there."

"Eat what?" Emma spat back. "There's no one about, and we have no food."

A wrapped bundle hit her lap. She knew it was a risk to open it, the demon could be playing all sorts of tricks on her, but she unwrapped it all the same, too nauseated to give much of a fight.

A chunk of bread and a hunk of cheese lay on the brown paper. It was simple, rudimentary, but the sight nearly had Emma crying with delight. It took everything within her to not just grab the raw food and shove it down her gullet.

As if reading Emma's mind, Molek spoke again. "Come on out of there for a moment. Get a breath of fresh air and eat."

For once, Emma did not need to be told again.

Gathering her small prize in her hands, Emma scurried out of the carriage, wasting no time to plop down in the grass lining the road, filling her lungs with the clean country air. Spreading her meager picnic across the wrapping, Emma dug into her meal. Almost immediately, it gave her fresh life.

"You're welcome," Molek huffed, throwing himself down across from her far too casually, but all that mattered at the moment was the substance before her.

"Hey," called Molek again, finally gaining her attention, cheeks full of bread. "How about a little drink with your meal?"

The sick, too-large grin was plastered on his face. She was already shaking her head in denial as he pulled a green, sealed bottle from within his cloak. She didn't even want to guess where it had been before.

"Come on, just a small drink."

"No, thank you."

"Let a poor old man spoil his soon-to-be-daughter!" His laugh echoed across the trees, turning up Emma's lip.

"You are far from a man, and I don't want-" As if on the worse possible cue, a bit of cheese went sideways down her throat, sending Emma into a coughing fit. Each suck of air she took only made her cough harder, her chest heaving with the effort.

Grin unfaltered, Molek ripped out the cork, holding the bottle out to her once more.

With no other choice, Emma grabbed it by the neck, tipping her own to throw the red wine down her clogged throat. It made quick work of the blockage, burning it away.

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