Elva Rackthorn and the Tears of Azrael

On the Road, Part 1

The morning Elva set out with the vel Sints was dewy and orange, the sun suffusing a light mist as Elva hugged Henri and Father goodbye. Rackthorn manor felt almost like the 'Twixt as the carriage pealed away, the manor's contours blurred by the mist and the grounds seemingly infinite where they faded into gray.

The Baron's leopardhawk— named Rancor, of all things— had settled on top of the carriage before they set off. Perhaps the Baroness had doubts about how the carriage top would fair against the familiar's talons, because she had paused, one hand on the roof of the vehicle for a few long moments before entering. Elva had paused as well, but mostly because it seemed so odd to have spent all her life in a place as open and expansive as the Rackthorn manor and to now be leaving it in the confines of a carriage.

The Wishing Way, lined with live oaks and covered with their interlacing canopy, had never seemed so short nor so arduous before. Elva tried to drink in its beauty, to find the hidden wisdom surely hidden in the puzzle-knots of the snaking branches, but too soon the carriage was peeling out into the open, the sun having finally burned the mist away and gleaming over-bright in the early sky.

The Baron, not a morning person, was hunched in on himself, nursing a hot flask of sider. The Baroness on the other hand seemed livelier than usual, her figure lighter and her motions freer as she embroidered— and Elva marveled at how the state-of-the-art suspension sigilry of the carriage kept the coach as peaceful as a parlor even on the bumpy country roads. She'd have to surreptitiously investigate the sigilwork at one of their stops.

Or perhaps not surreptitiously. The Baroness seemed to want to encourage Elva's necromancy work, so surely looking under the hood of the carriage would be allowed? Elva wanted to broach the subject, but it felt a bit too soon to start a serious conversation about necromancy with the Baroness, with Father not yet even miles away, so Elva took out a book instead. She had several novels lined up for the journey and an assurance from Silas that most inns sold cheap clothbacks for travelers.

What are you reading?

Elva blushed, then horrified at her blushing, blushed even deeper.

"I, umm—" Elva turned her stumbling into a cough when she realized she had spoken out loud, grabbing her water and taking a showy sip. "Dust on the page," she muttered lamely, averting her eyes from the vel Sints to stare at her book.

That salacious, huh?

Not salacious! Just— I don't know. It's a romance novel.

Ooh, how fun.

Yeah, well... Elva paused, replayed the sound of Nya's voice in her head. He was sincere, so she stifled her knee-jerk sarcastic response and aimed for sincere as well. Yeah. Yeah! The plots can be a bit contrived, but it's fun to see how it all plays out. Can you, I don't know, hear it when I read?

If I'm listening, then yes. Have you read this one before?

No, but it's part of a series. Here, let me catch you up on what happened in the first book, Soldier in Search of a Sword...