//CLARA//
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
I sat frozen when the lock outside clicked.
The door swung open and Casimir climbed back inside. He didn't say a word as he took his seat. The carriage remained stationary, bathed in the dim, yellow glare of the dockside lanterns filtering through the frost-streaked window.
I looked at him.
The pristine facade he wore was completely gone. In the low light, I noticed the dark specks on his jawline. More of it was smeared across the knuckles of his right hand.
Without even asking, I already know whose blood it belonged to.
My stomach twisted, but I didn't flinch.
Instead, I asked, "Is he dead?"
I didn't need to specify a name.
He leaned his head back against the upholstery, his dark eyes fixed on me through the shadows.
"Death would be too merciful for him. Why?"
I shrugged, testing the rigid give of the linen bindings.
"I'd hate to think his suffering ended so quickly while my dress is completely ruined."
