//CLARA//
The harbor smelled of wet rope and rotting fish. It wasn't the grand pier, but a skeleton of a dock, tucked away behind rusted warehouses and the silence of the dying night. I pulled my hood lower, the wool scratching my jawline, and kept my eyes on the planks beneath my boots.
The captain's grim face was the last thing I saw of the yacht. Casimir's hand found mine in the darkness.
Gary shuffled behind us. A plain, black carriage with no crest sat waiting. I climbed inside first, my cloak catching on the doorframe, and Casimir followed, pulling Gary in after like luggage he couldn't leave behind.
I sat pressed against Casimir's side, our thighs touching through layers of wool and silk. Gary wedged himself into the far corner, knees drawn up, making himself small enough to disappear. The carriage lurched forward before the door fully closed.
