Page 96 of Emma & Edmund

Ripping the bottle from her lips, Emma was suddenly coughing for a whole other reason.

"This tastes like acid!"

"It helped though, didn't it?" Molek took it back, taking a long swig of his own.

The alcohol swirled in her, warming her from the inside and creeping through her limbs. Damn him, but Molek was right. Despite its bitter taste, the wine settled her queasiness even better than the bread did.

She hated to give him the satisfaction, but the alcohol-induced inhibition had her holding her hand out. "Let me have another sip."

Emma drank and ate largely in silence, relishing the sound of the breeze through the fields, trying her best to not look at her companion. But that didn't stop her mind from wandering, exploring the path that brought them to that exact moment, the bottle traveling back and forth between them until it was gone.

"Why are you helping me? I know what you said, but I still don't understand."

"You go back for love; I go back for power."

"Is there no other way for you to regain power other than siphoning from my love?" She hadn't really expected an answer, hadn't even looked away from the hill in the distance, the trees just beginning to show the colorful signs of autumn.

"As sad as it may be, no. My dopey son is the sole vessel in which I can even hope for half of what I had before. I only wish someone had told me so before I let my seed slide into Poppy."

"I am nearly certain he cannot be your only child. Your conquests probably spread far and wide. You could have dozens of vessels."

"While that may be true, there is only one Edmund, isn't there?"

Emma gazed down at the bottle in her hand, caressing the cool glass.

"I suppose that's so."

For the first time in a while, there was no returned clip, no laughter, no teasing. Molek simply stared at her, and as she took another swig from the bottle, Emma couldn't say she felt uncomfortable.

Instead, she felt warm. And full. And a little bit drunk.

She didn't see Molek studying her intently, sober as the day was long, propped up on his elbow and palm across the grass.

"You're a funny human, you know that?" He mumbled, every other word lost on Emma's ears.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing important," he pushed himself up, dusting the dirt and grass from him. "Get up. It's time we're on our way."

With another sip, Emma followed him up, swaying a bit more than she would like. "You're quite demanding, you know that?"

"As demanding as your tolerance is low," he prodded, pushing on her shoulder, urging her along to the waiting coach.

"I'll have you know," Emma countered, pulling the narrow door open, "I have some of the highest tolerance of my friends."

"Yet, history shows otherwise." Emma only scoffed at him, her foot catching on the last step, landing sprawled across the bench. As much as she knew she should be embarrassed, the feeling never came. Instead, she found herself nestling further into the plumped-up fabric stretched over the wood.

Realizing Molek had not moved from the doorway, staring in at her with a laugh on his lips, Emma glared at him. "Get on now, we're losing the day."

"Yeah, yeah," Molek flicked his gloved hand at her. "Sleep it off. It's a stretch until our next stop."

The final thing she saw before the world blacked out was the sickly grin of Molek.

Chapter 29

Emma awoke with a pounding in her head, matching the pounding of rain on the cabin roof.

She wasn't fond of the fact that, for the second time on her journey, she woke up to the black of night, having slept through the afternoon.Drunkenly passed out, more like, her mind supplied.

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