Bab 612: An Elf's Tale, Part 20

After some time, a buzzing quiet could be heard from outside the carriage walls, a noticeable absence, a noticeable stillness—the overpowering silence of the carriage wheels coming to a gradual halt. 

Eshwlyn spurred. 

"Wait."

The command seized her like the clamp of an iron fist, rendering her unmoving, glaring; bare fingertips grazing the handle of the carriage door, and an ephemeral wave of unbridled hatred jetted out from her cold stare.

Wilvur merely blew a breath, amused. He sprung his arm forward, and a ripple of deep dark red suddenly fell over her eyes.

"Forgetting something, aren't you?" She heard him say with an infuriating air. Eshwlyn pulled away the coat with enough force to echo a distinct sharp rip, and she saw him already rising from his seat, wearing that malicious smile once more. "Why break tradition, hm? Let me get the door again."