Bloodsuckers & Ballrooms

Chapter Five

Roslin

If the sisters had thought the carriage magnificent from the window, it was twice—thrice!—as magnificent up close. It gleamed and shone in an almost otherworldly way in the midday sun, and the polished surface was made of neither metal nor wood, but something the sisters couldn't place at all.

Stranger still were the horses. Up close, they were...well, they were horses, but it seemed to Roslin that they also weren't quite horses, not really. It made little sense, and she failed to articulate the thought, though, so she said nothing to her sisters and stood there eyeing the "horses" with subtle intrigue.

And yet. They were too lithe, too fine, too tall. There was something in their eyes that was more beast than horse, too, and other than moving like something horse-shaped, they lacked for the fidgety mannerisms typical of a horse.

It mattered not, Roslin decided, and under the driver's gaze she avoided her instinct to reach out and pet one. There were six of them, each as majestic as the carriage itself, and they stamped their hooves impatiently. The red jewels embedded in their harnesses caught the light and sent it scattering in every direction like unblinking red eyes.

The portly driver—who had simply introduced himself as Dale—emerged from the carriage where he had been stowing the sisters' meager luggage behind their seats. "If you are ready, ladies...?" He made a sweeping gesture to the carriage, then offered an extended hand. With the other hand he opened the carriage door, revealing fully the plush interior upholstered in deep red velvet that matched the curtains.

Roslin could not hide her smile. "Shall we?" she asked, trying not to sound giddy, trying to sound as if boarding such a carriage was something they did every day.

Blodwyn gave a little huff, clearly still skeptical of the entire affair, but she squared her shoulders and marched forward, her jaw clenched in that stubborn way Roslin knew all too well. She passed Dale's outstretched hand as she climbed into the carriage herself.

When she stepped in, though, she immediately paused, then turned and poked her head back out. She made a show of moving in and out several times, the furrow in her brow deepening each time until at last she muttered something and took her seat on the opposite side.

Gia and Roslin exchanged quizzical glances before Gia drew in a shaky breath and stepped forward. Roslin noticed that Gia didn't look back. She just politely bobbed her head to the driver, took hold of the vertical banner that spanned the height of the door, and pulled herself inside. Within, she settled in the middlemost seat across from Blodwyn, whose head was still swiveling around in a suspicious sort of disbelief.

That left Roslin standing alone in front of the carriage, her hands twisting nervously in the folds of her skirt. This was it. Once she stepped inside, there would be no turning back. She glanced up at the farmhouse one last time and her heart sank forlornly in her chest. The windows, the door, the porch—everything seemed to look back at her as if it, too, knew that this was the last time they would see each other.

"Lady Adair?" Dale's voice broke through her reverie.

"My apologies, Mister Dale," offered Roslin, turning to face him again. No longer was there time for hesitation. She placed one hand in his—which he had seemed to be waiting for from each of them—and allowed him to steady her as she followed her sisters' footsteps.

It struck her immediately how incredibly spacious it felt within the carriage. The walls seemed to stretch farther than logic dictated, and the seats were arranged in a way that allowed for ample room. There were two benches—which were, of course, upholstered in fine red velvet—that faced one another.