Binding Fate: Betrothed to the Otherworldly Duke

Chapter 17: The Cloaked Coachman

Dawn's first light seeped into the room, casting a pale glow over me as I fumbled with the clasps of Jean's doublet. My fingers trembled, exhaustion weighing heavily on me. The previous night, I had been restless, filled with uneasy dreams that left me feeling as though I was wading through thick molasses with each step.

"Too early," I whispered, my words barely disturbing the room's stillness. My movements were careful yet sluggish, each motion echoing the tension buried deep within my bones.

A soft knock at the door cut through the quiet. I looked up as Sir Henry's imposing figure filled the doorway, his voice firm as he announced, "The carriage awaits below."

Jean and I exchanged glances, our eyes reflecting a mix of anticipation and apprehension for the journey ahead. We descended the creaking wooden stairs, finding the pub hauntingly empty. Its usual patrons were still lost in the embrace of sleep.

Stepping into the brisk morning air, I spotted the small carriage waiting for us. The coachman was a shadowy figure, his features hidden beneath a heavy cloak and wide-brimmed hat, casting his face in darkness.

"Careful now," Elowyn's voice emerged from the shadows as she approached with a small woven basket. "For the road, lest hunger find you."

"Thank you," I replied, clutching the basket, drawing comfort from its solid weight.

Jean climbed into the carriage, his movements smooth despite his injury. As I followed, a prickle of unease crept up my spine. It was the sensation of unseen eyes watching our every move.

Once inside, Sir Henry leaned close, his blue eyes intense beneath his cap.

"To Verdantvale, you return," he said, his tone filled with quiet urgency. "May your journey be swift and free from peril."

I nodded, trusting his words as he closed the carriage door with a final thud that seemed to seal our fate. The world outside blurred as the coachman urged the horses forward, their steady clopping and the carriage's gentle sway enveloping us in a cocoon of uncertainty.

The coachman's silence, his identity hidden behind the layers of his cloak, stirred a growing sense of mystery in me.

I leaned back against the plush seat, clutching the basket like a lifeline. Elowyn's simple gifts in my arms were a simple reality to the swirling fog of questions clouding my mind.

My gaze drifted over the shadows clinging to the buildings as the carriage made its way out of the seedy part of town with its crumbling facades and tightly closed shutters.

Jean leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the world beyond the smudged carriage glass.

"I never imagined I'd find myself in Dampshaw," he murmured, his voice tinged with distaste as if the name itself was bitter.

Jean's gaze caught on a group huddled around a flickering barrel fire.

"This is Aeloria's underbelly," he explained, "a refuge for those desperate or too far gone, shunned by the rest of the city." His expression darkened. "Strange that the second son of House Aster would have dealings here."

"And the Duke."

Jean looked at me with confusion.

"Duke Aster was also at the pub. I thought either he or Lord Aster would see us off this morning, but they must have had more important things to do."

"That's odd." Jean finally murmured. "Duke and Lord Aster don't frequently visit Aeloria, not together...not unless they are attending to a serious matter. They prefer to stay at their castle."