reaction was so potent and so complete that when Phin pulled away, she nearly whimpered in disappointment.
“Behave,” he said in a low voice, though whether as an order or an observation, Lenore couldn’t tell. He pivoted to bring his own suitcase down from its rack, and as soon as the station porter opened the door to their compartment, he stepped out, helping her to the platform as well.
Lenore barely had time to plunk her hat on her head, let alone fasten its ridiculous scarf around her neck and face, before Phin took her hand and led her to the iron stairs that took them over a bridge spanning several tracks and down to the stationhouse. It was past ten at night, so every station shop was closed with only the arriving passengers rushing through the small building. As they stepped out to the curb, facing the ancient wall of the medieval city, Lenore’s eyes nearly scanned right over the simple wagon that waited along with a handful of carriages.
“Hazel,” Phin called out, undisguised joy in his voice, and let go of Lenore’s hand to speed toward the figure standing beside the wagon.
Lenore caught her breath and nearly dropped her traveling bag at the sight of the woman. She wasn’t brawny at all. She was every bit as delicate as Lionel Mercer and bore a strong resemblance to her brothers. Or, at least, she would have if half of her face wasn’t twisted and scarred as though it had melted. The woman’s arm on that same side of her body ended just below her elbow as well, and when she took a few steps forward to throw herself into Phin’s embrace, she moved with a distinct limp. Lenore pressed a hand to her mouth, her eyes stinging as her imagination instantly filled in a story of some sort of tragedy that had disfigured the woman so badly.
“Hazel, I’d like you to meet Miss Lenore Garrett, an American Princess from the Wild West of Wyoming,” Phin said, keeping his arm around his sister’s shoulders as he beckoned Lenore to come forward.
Lenore pushed herself into motion, approaching the pair with her heart in her throat and shifting her bag to her left hand so that she could greet Hazel. “How do you do?” she asked. Immediately, she realized her mistake. Hazel’s right hand was the one that was missing. “Oh, dear,” she gulped, no idea at all whether she should withdraw her hand.
“I am quite well,” Hazel answered, seamlessly taking Lenore’s hand with her left hand and squeezing it. “And I’m honored to be in the presence of royalty.”
“I’m not really a princess,” Lenore said, her words stilted. Hazel exchanged a brief look with Phin, and Lenore winced. “You’re joking,” she said.
“Of course, I’m joking,” Hazel laughed. “Phin isn’t nearly handsome or clever enough to win the favors of a princess.” She winked at her brother. “Lionel, maybe. But he’d rather have a queen.” She took Lenore’s traveling bag right out of her hand before Lenore could react and carried it back to the wagon. “Hurry along, you two. The girls insisted on staying up until you came home, and we all know that if they don’t get enough sleep tonight, they’ll be hellions tomorrow.”
Lenore opened her mouth as though she were expected to make some sort of reply, but not a thing came to her mind.
“Come on.” Phin took her hand—which was still stupidly outstretched—and tugged her toward the wagon. “I’ll help you in. Climbing into a wagon is more complicated than entering a carriage.” He paused to lift his suitcase into the wagon’s bed as Hazel walked around the far side of the wagon, approaching the driver’s seat.
“You’ve clearly forgotten that I’m a heathen from the West,” Lenore said, blinking rapidly to clear the shock from her head and hopping easily onto the wagon’s seat. As soon as Phin climbed into the seat next to her, as Hazel busied herself with the horse, she leaned in and said, “You didn’t tell me your sister was—” She snapped her mouth shut, unsure how to finish her thought.
“There was a fire when she was twelve,” he whispered quickly, leaving it at that for the time being. He edged his way past her, sitting in the driver’s seat as Hazel attempted to pull herself up. “I can drive home,” he said, taking the reins from her.
“Don’t you dare, Phineas McGuire Mercer,” Hazel scolded him, using her hip to bump him to the middle of