The Toll {Book 2}

3. Refugees- Nadia

I'd seen nothing like Ètrevay before. In Rumonin, even the most gorgeous buildings had been heavy and ancient, like they'd always been standing there through wars and turmoil and strife. They stood against harsh winters and brief summers, testaments to a people who valued strength and industry. Ètrevay was nearly the opposite.

I turned around and around on this sidewalk, looking at the splendor. On every corner there were marvels of architecture. Spires rose on the edges of homes that glowed as their brilliant red bricks caught the winter sunshine. The public buildings and businesses were more like temples, with massive marble pillars and gorgeous moldings that crested like waves and statues of chubby angels and hunched demons dotted around. Gold roofs blinded me as I squinted up at the building we stood in front of. I had no idea what use it had, but it stretched longer than any of the other buildings. The stairs that led to its doors were as wide as the building itself, and men stood on them in black suits and talked and ate. Pigeons flew in gray blurs, the shush of their wings and their coos eaten by the sound of the carriage and motorcars.

"Oh, Ferdinand! It's the most gorgeous place I've ever seen."

He didn't respond, but I was too busy looking at the banners that graced every single doorway that I could see. Shining emerald silk, swathed in elegant curves, and painted with a white silhouette of a woman's profile. A crown sat above her piled hair, and I knew it had to be Queen Leonore. My heart skipped at the sight.

"Did you know anywhere could be so brilliant?" I breathed.

Ferdinand still said nothing, and I turned to see if he was paying attention.

He leaned against a pillar, his eyes closed and beads of sweat standing out against his suddenly sallow skin.

"Ferdinand?"

I started toward him, but before I could reach his side, his legs buckled and he keeled forward into the snow. I rushed to him, trying to turn him over as I patted his cheeks and called his name. A small group of men and women, drawn by the commotion, gathered over us, talking away in Flaunsian. A woman motioned for me to prop Ferdinand up, and, when I'd done so, held a small vial under his nose. She wafted it around until his eyelids fluttered and opened.

As he slowly came to, the small crowd looked to me and said a few things with concerned looks on their faces. I shook my head to show them I didn't understand. They frowned but continued to ask me questions in Flaunsian, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks as they pressed in close. Some of the men talked amongst themselves, one dashed off, and then he returned and pressed a cup of tea into Ferdinand's hands. Steam and the smell of peppermint curled in the air, and Ferdinand's hands shook as he took a few sips. I held him in a sitting position.

"What happened?" Ferdinand asked, handing me the cup of tea. It warmed my fingers and I brought it close to my middle.

"You fainted."

"Fainted? I prefer 'passed out'." He gave me a withering stare, pretending his pride was hurt. I wasn't in the mood for joking.

"You're exhausted. We can't keep walking like this. We need to find somewhere to stay," I said.

"Where? We don't have any money, and even if we did, I doubt Flauns would take Ruma anymore. They're flooded already."

I turned to the nearest man. "Do you know anywhere we can stay? A place we can work in exchange for a room?"

He stared at me blankly, and I sighed in frustration. "A room? I don't know how to say it in Flaunsian." I ran my hands through my hair as the man shook his head and shrugged.

Ferdinand tried. "Loen stalles pera vausara?"

The people around us looked nearly as mystified at this halting and botched version of their language as they were with Rumonin, but one of the ladies seemed to understand him well enough to start explaining to the others. They all looked relieved to finally find what we wanted, and when the woman came over to my side, she smiled as if this was a social visit.