“Hurry up all this packing!” Lord Sutherton snapped between cigar puffs.

There was commotion all around Lord Sutherton Lady Sutherton as servants prepared their carriage and loaded the stowage carriages packing away heavy luggage. They increased in their scrambling when Lord Sutherton’s command resounded. Even the horses responded, loudly neighing, clacking their hooves, and jingling their reins.

The coachman, Langston, an aged man wearing years of wrinkles stood by the carriage horses. He adjusted his hat and divided his attention to the horses and the loading staff. “You heard Lord Sutherton!” Langston said to the 3 men who hastily loaded a few more heavyweight trunks.

The men responded by turning anxious glances to an impatient Lord Sutherton and frowning Lady Sutherton.

There was a thick pucker to Lord Sutherton’s lips as he cyclically puffed his cigar and shook the ashes the ground. He scrutinized them with a narrowing glare.

Lady Sutherton on the other hand, patted away wrinkles in her dress and groomed incessantly in her hair. She stopped only when she caught sight of ashes in her husband’s beard.

“Davyid,” she said to him, straightening her posture. “There are ashes in your beard. Shall I?” She reached to touch him, but he stepped away from her and tossed his cigar. He stomped down on it briefly before walking over to the carriage.

“Let me get the door, m’lord Sutherton.” Langston rushed over, and Lord Sutherton stepped up the carriage steps entering wordlessly.

Lady Sutherton cast her eyes downwards, following after him inside.

Click.

Once the carriage doors, shut they were alone in solitude amidst the rumbling and growling of wheels churring against the ground. She sat down opposing to her husband sharing only silence until she spoke up.

“Do you think it’s going to rain?” she questioned, peering at through the modest sized carriage window.

There were a few clouds in the sky, lumpy, grey, tufts interrupting the streaks of timid blue. The grey cotton plumes were only mere nuances to the virulence of the clear sky. It was the peak of morning, and the peak of sunlight; sparkling blazing bright sun rays pouring into their spacious wobbling vehicle.

“Or maybe a storm?”

Briefly, he cut his eyes to her. “No.”

“Yes, but even though the sun is out it still smelled like rain. Do you know that odd smell forewarning of bad weather? It smells almost like rust and earthworm, yet not quite. It’s a particular scent that can never truly be properly described---.”

“---What do you want, Anya?” His scowl burned into her thumping chest.

“Oh well I--it’s just—oh what if---,” she said, stopped mid-sentence. She had to find her strength to speak again under her husband’s glower. “Well, what if Erin is right about Sabina.” Her eyes fluttered, uncertainty escaping from her lips. “What if…” Her gaze lowered. “What if something is wrong with Sabina?”

“There is. She is born of a tainted blood---a child of a whore who weaseled their way into the Sutherton family. It is no wonder she is mad.”

“I understand how you feel Davyid, but that night she came to us? I’ve never seen her that way before.”

“You don’t know that woman, I know her, and I knew her mother. That type of madness. It’s something inherited.”

“Yes, but. She seemed so…different. And that letter she left? It was only a few scribbles as if someone had written it in a hurry. Prince Kaelixson-Nier said everything is fine, but is it really?”

“Anya.”

“I-I know that sounds crazy of me to suggest. But she almost due for the baby and for her to be sick at this time, it’s dangerous.”

“Sabina is the one who’s dangerous. Her mother killed my father because of her delusions. I can only wonder the panic the First Prince must feel worried she may some day do the same thing.”

“Yes, but.” Anya swallowed. “Still.” She brushed away at nonexistent hairs tingling her ears. “I can’t stop thinking about it. She never truly explained herself, and now that she’s away and we can’t get any answers, it makes me even more concerned about all those things she said.”

“Still what?” He reached into his coat pocket, fetching a cigar and a match. “What more do you want to the story? Sabina is irrational madwoman.”

Her eyes lowered again. She struggled for a moment to open her mouth. “I….” The words weighed heavy on her tongue. “You’re right.”

“Now, I’ve had enough talk about them. Leave Sabina to be handled by her husband, and she will show her face when she is better---if there can be a remedy. Besides that, we will have no trouble when we get to the Tricipital.” He huffed, puffing his cigar.

“You’re right.” Her breath was shallow.

“Don’t let that troublesome child get to you like she tries with the others.”

“Yes, I know.” Lady Sutherton sighed, turning to look through the carriage window.

For some reason she couldn’t stop replaying the same few words Sabina had said to her:

‘Anya, you know, don’t you? You…you know that Vaanya, she, she came and spoke to me. She…she said, I had to tell the truth---to make all of us, tell the truth.’