Chapter 13
The heat was the first thing Alara became aware of when her coachman opened the door to allow her out of the carriage. More apt to say it was the humidity; a heavy wind kissed by the sun that swept into the carriage the moment the door was levered open. The man, the driver that had seen her borne from her father’s estates in Brigsben to the city of Waterfree in less time than she had at first thought possible, held a hand out to assist her down the steps with perfect poise and patience; the man didn’t seem to notice the sweat trickling at his brow outside of the twitch his left eye gave as beads of moisture rolled down his face. Alara smoothed the hem of her skirt--a pointless gesture as she was just about to move again--and took the offered hand before descending the three iro
