The Toll {Book 2}

6. Tea with Hannabella- Nadia

"Oh, Nadia, my dear girl! You're alive!" Mrs. Lephard said. I breathed in the scent of her lavender perfume. Her pinned curls brushed my cheeks and she held me out at arm's length to examine me. I cried all over her velvet cape. She didn't seem to mind, and I felt her own tears on my hair. "Thank God and the heavens. We heard such stories about Rumonin, I wasn't sure if... Oh, it doesn't matter now. You're safe and somehow we've been permitted by fate to find each other again!"

"I can't believe this is real. I—I must be dreaming," I said, staring into the face of the one other person besides Ferdinand who had ever made me feel safe.

"My, and speaking of dreams, is that young Ferdinand Popov lurking over there in the dark?" She held out her hand and Ferdinand came to take it.

"It is an absolute pleasure to see you again, Mrs. Lephard."

Hannabella stared at Ferdinand for a moment, her hand still resting in his. Her eyes still glistened, and when she spoke her voice sounded strained. "You're a miracle, Ferdinand. When I left Nadia, I thought for certain that her hope of finding you alive was a false one. But here you stand. And at Nadia's side. It seems the world is a kinder place than I thought."

"Thank you, for whatever part you took in keeping her safe when I couldn't," Ferdinand said. Hannabella nodded.

"Well, enough with these tears," she said, swiping at her eyes. "This is a joyous time! We are all here, and we are all safe and sound. This calls for some celebrating. What would you two say to some coffee at a café? It's nearby."

Ferdinand let out a relieved breath. "I would do anything for that, Mrs. Lephard."

"All right, it's settled. Let me just finish up here, and we'll head out."

She turned back to Millicent, who had been watching with her mouth slightly agape, and spoke a few more sentences in Flaunsian before kissing her on both cheeks and waving to the room at large.

We followed her out onto the sidewalk, where a blue carriage stood waiting on the other side of the road. I hadn't noticed it when we'd walked by earlier, but it was finely made, with yellow wheels and a pair of winter white horses. A curtain with a silk tassle hung in the window of the door, and the driver sat on a velvet cushion.

"Pop in. It's about two minute away, so we'll have a little time to talk," Hannabella said, walking over to the carriage and climbing in as if it was the most natural thing in the world. I climbed the two little steps with more apprehension, hoping my boots were clean and that I wouldn't scuff the upholstered flooring. Ferdinand, much more at home than I, brought up the rear and closed the door.

Hannabella leaned forward to a little bronze vent that looked out at the road near the driver's side. "Fortuna's please, Guerny. Thank you," she said through it. A moment later, the carriage lurched forward and we were on our way.

The story of how we ended up in Flauns only lasted the short ride from our housing to the café. Hannabella listened with sympathy and rapt attention, but I could tell that she was perhaps slightly disappointed at my brief recounting which skipped over all the details.

The truth was, I couldn't bring myself to say what had happened. Trying to recall images of dead in the streets, or the way I'd been forced to pick through the mountains of corpses for bits to sell so that I wouldn't starve, made my skin crawl and my throat lock up. I wouldn't even let myself dwell on the smell of smoke in my nose and the knowledge that my old home was a gravesite for the man who'd raised me...

So I told her a shortened and vague version of my story, which wasn't exciting or heartfelt, but kept the tears safely at bay and my mind from wandering too far into shadows.