He then slumps back, and his eyes flutter shut. Satisfied, I remove a handkerchief from my satchel and wipe my hand as the man begins to quietly snore.
“Much better.” I look out the window, glad to spend the rest of the ride in peace.
We reach Davon several hours later, just when the sun has reached its apex in the sky and the carriage has grown swelteringly hot. I thank the driver, giving him a few extra fluots for his trouble, and laugh to myself as I hear him trying to rouse Mr. Cumberland.
And then I pause, forgetting about the man and the driver…and most everything else.
Davon rises around me, magnificent and bustling.
There are humans everywhere. They walk the side streets, some at a brisk pace as if they have somewhere to be, and others taking leisurely strolls. Many are accompanied by tiny dogs on narrow leather leashes. One man even has a parrot riding upon his shoulder.
Women use parasols to protect themselves from the afternoon sun, and men wear top hats and carry canes like fashion accessories.
A clock stands in the square, surrounded by benches and flowering bushes I’ve never seen before. Across the street, a bank towers over everything in the vicinity, with ivy vining up its gray stone and a dragon embossed over the large entry doors.
There are all kinds of shops as well, some built right on top of each other. They claim to sell everything from bolts of silk and rare spices to Fae-crafted trinkets and curiosities.
A woman passes in front of me, carrying a small, black dog in her arms. She wears an ornate gown with a full skirt that features off-the-shoulder sleeves that are no more than narrow froths of gossamer fabric.
It’s so warm here. I understand why so many women choose bodices that keep their arms and shoulders bare.
I’m overheating in my long-sleeved gown, not used to such an extreme temperature.
“Excuse me, sir,” I say to a gentleman as he passes in front of me.
The man pauses, assessing me. He’s likely in his mid-twenties, with dark brown hair, hazel eyes, and prominent dimples.
He’s handsome, and unlike my traveling companion, he has a kind look about him.
“Can you tell me the season?” I ask.
His eyebrows shoot up. “The…season?”
“It’s summer, isn’t it?” I fan my face with my hand. “That’s the hot one?”
Giving me a look that makes me realize a human wouldn’t have to ask, the man offers me a lopsided smile. “Yes…it’s summer.”
He then glances at my heavy gown, and his lips twitch with amusement. “Did you perhaps get on the wrong coach?”
“No, I simply wasn’t prepared for the heat. It’s cooler where I’m from.”
“Up north?” he guesses.
“Northwest.”
His eyes slide to the public coach, and then he looks back. “I’m Frederick.”
“Sabine.”
“Have you eaten lunch? There’s a café a few blocks from here that makes excellent crepes. I’m heading there myself. Would you like to join me?”
I study him, deciding there isn’t any harm in it. “Just a few blocks?”
He nods.
“All right,” I agree. “And perhaps while we eat, you can tell me if there’s a theater in the city?”
“A theater?” he asks, obviously surprised.