Page 40 of When the Sky Breaks

“Lovely then,” Ansel agreed with a smirk. “I’m sure your father will be thrilled to have dear Sorcha deliver her babe on the floor of his retirement cottage.”

I glared at Ansel and the amusement dropped instantly from his expression.

“Supplies then?” he suggested. I nodded, tapping Milkweed’s nose until he tucked himself out of sight again.

After a few minutes’ walk, we found a shop that was still open. It was clean and polished, wooden counters, glass cases, upscale. We had the money. We certainly needed the supplies. I didn’t think much about it. So the man’s words hit like a physical blow as he squinted disapprovingly over the countertop. “We don’t serve vagrants.”

“Oh we’re not . . .” Neal tried to protest.

“I said we. Don’t. Serve. Vagrants,” the shopkeeper repeated.

“Leave it, boy.” Ansel put a hand on Neal’s arm. “Not worth the fight.”

It felt like hours before we found another shop. How could this town have so many places to buy alcohol and so few to buy fabric and flour, I wondered. The second shop was on a quieter street, in a largely residential neighborhood where most of the signs were in Spanish. A bell jingled above the door as we entered, and I steeled myself for another rejection. The store’s interior was packed to the brim with spices, provisions, and bolts of fabric. Blessedly, I spotted a stack of already-sewn dresses resting on one end of the cluttered counter. An older Mexican woman bustled out from her back stockroom and threw her hands into the air.

“Dios mio!” she said. “Someone get the poor girl a chair before she falls over!” The old woman clucked and fussed and grabbed a stool from behind the counter, setting it near the shop’s back wall.

“Sit,” she instructed, pointing at me. I willingly obliged. My back was killing me and I was still dizzy from last night’s fever.

“Stay,” I said, grabbing the cuff of Neal’s sleeve when he went to get up and make for the counter. “Let Ansel handle this. Please.”

Neal nodded and knelt down in front of me while Ansel pulled a list he’d scrawled out of his pocket.

“I think that’s enough standing up for today,” I muttered, head leaned back against the wall. Black spots bloomed at the edges of my vision. I was dehydrated—surely.

Neal took one of my hands in both of his—lips barely ghosting over my knuckles.

“You look a little better,” he offered.

“That’s not a high bar,” I replied. “I’m just worn out I think. You’re not really supposed to be on the run like this while growing a baby, are you?”

“We’re only a week’s ride from Houston,” Neal soothed. “You’ll get a couple real night’s rest here. And then, if what Ansel keeps saying holds true, it’s a train to New Orleans, then a train to New York. Easy. We can prove your title’s legitimacy with the library there and then head to Scotland if that’s still what you want. Da will be thrilled to have the Court close. I promise. And you will love the libraries in Edinburgh.”

“Will it be easier once we get to the train?” I asked.

“I’m not expecting miracles,” Neal said. “But trains are usually less strenuous than riding, and whatever happens I’m here to sort it out with you. Even if things are bumpy.”

“And the portals?” I pressed. “The slugs belching hellfire?”

“Slugs belching hellfire?” Neal asked.

I dug in the pocket of my dress until I found my father’s journal and pressed it open to that first entry about the monk and the portal and the hellfire slug.

“Slugs belching hellfire,” I repeated.

“And I thought the octopus was bad,” Neal muttered, then softened his tone before continuing. “We’ll handle it. I promise.”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead, one hand going to the nape of my neck and the other to my belly.

“And I promise one of these days I will get us a real hotel room all to ourselves and we’ll get a second attempt at our wedding night,” he whispered into my ear.

I chuckled, fighting down the flush of heat in my cheeks. “I will hold you to that.”

“I’d be shocked and disappointed if you didn’t,” Neal replied.

“Let’s get back on the road, kids!” Ansel shouted. “I have successfully outfitted us to look like proper citizens and I’ve got lots of extra food. Come on. Mules are waiting!”

I groaned when I got to my feet and let Neal tuck me close under his arm as we thanked the shopkeeper and followed Ansel back into the street.