They halted before the tiny steps. There, the men flanking her finally released their grip, plonking her back onto the street. One of them shoved her closer to the lacquered panels. Not wishing to suffer being crammed inside the carriage, she ascended the steps unaided, jumping as the door slammed shut. A faint click spoke of a lock slipping into place.
Clara felt her way to one of the seats, eyes straining to see in the scant light filtering through the heavily curtained windows. The carriage lurched forward as she went to sit, upsetting her balance and slamming her into the thin suggestion of a cushion.
She leaned against the wall, bracing herself in the hopes it would help lessen the horrid swaying. Her hand rose to pull back the curtain, hesitating upon hearing the rustle of loose fabric coming from the other side of what suddenly felt like a far smaller space.
Heart pounding anew, she peered into the gloom. Naught but a darker shape could be seen against the slate grey of the interior. The other woman scrunched farther into her seat. Silent. As if fearful of being discovered.
Clara mimicked the action, hoping whatever was to become of them would not echo the horrors she'd heard about the past Great Lords. Rumour's only gossip, she reminded herself. And only a fool acts on gossip. But all rumours had a vein of truth somewhere.
She surely wished she knew what bits to believe
Angels in Turquoise Skies Page 11
