LIORA’S POV
The rain started as a light drizzle, but within minutes it became a downpour.
The coachman and the male servants worked frantically on the broken wheel, their clothes quickly soaking through. But progress was slow, the rain making everything slippery and difficult.
“This isn’t working,” the coachman shouted over the increasing wind. “The rain’s making it impossible to set the rim properly. We need to wait for it to pass.”
“We can’t just stand here in the storm,” Darren said, water already dripping from his hair. “We need shelter.”
“My lord!” One of the maids pointed into the tree line. “I saw what looked like an old hunting shelter that way. Maybe a quarter mile in.”
“Show us,” Darren commanded.
The maid led the way, and we all followed in a hasty line. The servants grab
