“We’ve arrived, Viscountess,” the coachman called from his bench at the front of the vehicle, rocking it when he stepped down to his own set of iron stairs that folded out from his side.
He opened the door pleasantly enough, offering her his hand once again to use as she stepped out. The coachman’s face held no sweat that time, dried off in the heat of the day with not enough water taken between to produce more, but he rubbed his brow with a handkerchief regardless.
“Will you be requiring anything else of me?” he asked, the expectancy in his voice straining against the duty he was bound to.
Alara mulled the question over a short time. She was on her own for what seemed like the first time in her whole life and far away from the customary help that she had come to expect from familial t
