The carriage door swung wide. She didn’t recognize the flushed and winded man standing before her, pointing a thick broadsword at the ground. “Lady Elloven?”
She nodded swiftly.
Jesstin gave her a brief appraisal. He swung his gaze to Taven. For all his showmanship with the crowd, he looked quite bothered to be there. “My horse is tethered near the fountain. Efrata, but she likes Effie too. All white but for a black line down her chest. Can’t miss her.” He ran one finger down his breastbone. “Ride to Nightwood. Tell Esmeray we’ll be there soon.”
“Who? Not me.”
“Yes. You.”
Taven looked ready to fight, but his only power was over those weaker, and Jesstin had the air of a man who had nothing to lose and no regret of it. “I’ll do no such thing.”
“Some gratitude would serve you, Considine,” Jesstin said, his eyes skimming sideways in irritation. He climbed in with a hard, wide look at the crowd before closing the door. “The baroness asked me to escort her daughter, because she knows, I know, you know, and the Guardians themselves know how the village regards you, which is impressively worse than they regard me. Either I escort her through the crowd of malcontents to my horse, while you take the much safer carriage by yourself, or you can just do what I fucking said like a good little stable boy and go.”
Elloven was floored—and strangely amused. She’d never heard anyone speak to Taven like that.
“Insulting me? Now? You’re being ridiculous,” Taven argued. “Why would we not ride together? Don’t tell me Esme wouldn’t want me here, because I know her better than anyone, including her children.” His passing glance at Elloven was both unapologetic and insincere, though she suspected he thought they were neither. “Child.”
“Nah, it’s not that.” Jesstin clicked his tongue. “I just don’t want anyone to steal my horse. Effie’s my special girl.”
Taven sputtered. “You’re not serious?”
“Very. Choose.”
Taven snorted, huffing as he passed his indignance between Elloven and Jesstin in an uncomfortable pause. “You’re being awfully quiet, Ellie. Is this what you want? This ruffian to escort you?”
“What I want is to get out of this mess. So go. Please.” Every moment they tarried was one the mob might reconsider their obedience.
“We’re not done here. We’ll speak on this later.” Taven slipped out.
The second he was gone, Jesstin pounded on the roof and dusted the spot on the bench where Taven had sat before settling in. The carriage spurred to life. “Nothing too unpleasant happened?”
She shook her head. Her deep breath was easier than expected, and she realized she was beginning to feel normal again. “My mother sent you?”
“Yes.” Jesstin slipped his hand under his vest and withdrew a flask. He offered her a sip after taking one of his own, which she declined.
“She’s right about Taven, but why you?” Elloven wanted to look outside, to see if the danger had passed, but was more afraid of finding it hadn’t. That nowhere would ever be safe for her again. The sense of coming doom had barely eased.
“It’s exactly what I told the stable hand,” Jesstin said absently. “Respect. Authority. Things I’m light in and he lacks entirely.”
Was he even telling the truth? She’d trusted him so easily and was now questioning her rash judgment. “So why did you agree?”
“I told you why.”
“You told me why she asked you, not why you accepted.”
“Doing my duty as a Skylark.” His lip twitched. “Such as it is.”
“How do I know you’re who you say you are?”
He shrugged. “They stopped attacking the carriage, didn’t they?”
“For now.”
“Anyway, you’re welcome.” Jesstin spread his arms over the top of the bench and leaned his head back. The way his dark hair caught the moonlight gave her the same fluttery familiarity of a memory, but the wearied man sitting across from her was nothing like the shy boy her brother had played with.
“Why did you kick Taven out? The other driver could have minded your horse.”
“Don’t like him.”
