Page 173 of Keldori By Daybreak

Tiernan and I followed Stanley to the door, and the hissing of steam accompanied the jolting of the carriage.

The next carriage over was darker than Tamora’s, and roped crates stacked high occluded the sunlight that fought to come through either side of windows.

The door slammed shut behind us.

“Hi, Tiernan,” I sighed.

“Wren.” He gave me a clipped nod, then limped after Stanley towards the next door into the next carriage. “Didn’t think I was going to see you again.”

“Not the first time you’ve thought that.”

“Fair. I suppose next time we depart from each other, I just need to get myself captured. You show up every time to spring me free.”

“Have you considered not getting captured if you don’t want to see me anymore?”

“What happened to Willow’s Grave?” he asked. “If you’re here—”

“The citadel is safe. We weren’t going to follow you but—” I eyed Stanley warily, unwilling to mention Lyria’s doorway with him in earshot. “I can tell you more later.”

“I’m sorry,” Tiernan hissed. “We should’ve been there by now. If we had been more careful—”

“Then you’d be dead,” I interrupted. “It’s better this way. Promise.”

We fell silent as Titus tilted his head to the side, as if to hear us better, but then he opened the carriage door to pass between the carts, releasing a gush of wind that would’ve been impossible to hear us over anyway.

I caught a glimpse of foggy marshland full of stunted, gnarled trees as I stepped into the open air between the carriages. The sun gleamed through the mist, already too low to the horizon for my liking.

Night could only be a few hours away.

We followed Stanley through five carriages full of crates of food, tools, armor, and barrels of Skal. The piles of supplies shifted against restraints of rope and netting, towering over the narrow aisles between them.

I was just wondering if there would be anywhere to sit and plan, or even space to fight a rotsbane, when we stepped into a sparse lounge. A few tables rattled against the bolts that held them in place, and wooden chairs grated against the floor as they moved with the train's shaking.

Stanley paused in the middle of the carriage, staring ahead at the next door, unmoving.

“Stanley?” I pressed.

“Who’s Stanley?” Tiernan asked.

“He is. It’s his real name in Keldori.”

“You know him?”

“Not really.”

Stanley remained taciturn, so I grabbed a chair as it slid past and dragged it to a table by a window. Tiernan did the same, and in the dim light afforded by the overhead skal-lamps, I checked him for signs of fresh injury.

“Are any of you hurt?” I asked.

“We’re all fine. More annoyed at having been caught than anything. Though, my leg still isn’t working like it used to. Must’ve not healed right.”

“I’m sorry.” I curled my fingers into a fist on the table. “That’s my fault.”

“I told you to try healing it. I wouldn’t have made it to Willow’s Grave on that ankle,” he assured me. “Tamora’s men recognized us when we tried to change carts at a station. What about you?”

“She picked us up in the strath—”

“The strath?” Tiernan interjected, his golden eyes narrowing under a furrowed brow. “You don’t mean Mycastrath?”