“Azriel,” he called to him, but the man was too enraptured with whatever he had in his sights.
Drawing nearer, he saw that Azriel was digging his fingers in the dirt around what looked like a weed. “What is—”
“Dragon’s Blood,” Azriel said with awe. “I’m sure of it.”
Galen squatted down beside him to look at the green plant growing in a small patch of grass near the tracks. It was surrounded by three similar offshoots, and as Galen studied it more closely, he questioned if Azriel could possibly be hallucinating.
“You said it turns a ruddy color,” Galen said as Azriel carefully dug a third one out of the ground by its root.
“See, right here.” He lifted the flower. “The very edges are about to bloom.”
Galen noticed it then, the faint red hue lining the edges.
“You know what I must do,” Azriel said solemnly, standing and gently placing the plants in his bag.
Galen’s heart dropped like a stone to his feet. “But we cannot—the train will leave without us, and we won’t be able to escape.”
“I must get them at least as far as Enchantment. Madam Fairborn will know what to do,” he said. “I cannot just leave it to chance. I shall regret it if I do.”
Logically, Galen understood why Azriel needed to do this. He was wracked with grief as it was, leaving Madam Langley and the apothecary during what might become a very difficult time. If this was part of a potential remedy, the entire town would be grateful.
“I understand,” Galen said. “Don’t worry, we’ll find another way to Solar’s Edge.”
“We can still make it,” Azriel said in an urgent tone. “But I will be faster on my own. Wait for me in our compartment. I promise to be there. But I must leave now.” Without pausing for a response, Azriel turned and surged forward into the crowd.
“Wait!” Galen shouted, rushing onward, but he bumped headfirst into a solid form. “Ooomph.” He stumbled backward and nearly fell in the dirt. He quickly gained his footing and brushed himself off, picking up the man’s hat, which had fallen during their collision. “I’m sorry, I was only—”
Their eyes locked as the large gentleman took his offering, and Galen recognized him instantly. It was his tormentor from the alleyway, and from the looks of it, he was with two women, an older gentleman, and a small child. Was it family he was seeing off?
Galen stood perfectly still as his heart lodged in his throat. The man gaped at him, then parted his lips as if to say something, and Galen held his breath, resigning himself to his fate. The man could announce to anyone who would listen that Galen was a thief, and he felt sick with worry and disgust. Except…Galen could make his own declaration, and even if no one believed it, it might still wound his reputation—or at the very least, sow doubt. Galen thought perhaps the gentleman knew of the possibility as well, because his aura tinged with the faintest hint of green.
Right then, an announcement could be heard from the guard on the platform, who was holding a bullhorn. “All aboard!”
The older man and woman turned to hug the gentleman, saying their goodbyes, as people formed a line to begin boarding the train.
Galen breathed out, thinking he might be safe now. He turned and got in line, sweat trickling down his back. He didn’t want to chance the man having a change of heart—if the man had a heart at all.
He looked for Azriel but didn’t see him anywhere. If he did not join him by the time he reached the train, he didn’t know what he might do. Perhaps faint from angst and worry.
As he got closer and closer to the train, he kept looking for Azriel, with no luck. Nor did he see the man from the alleyway, and he hoped to never lay eyes on him again. But his wish was not granted, because all at once the man was there, holding the child’s hand and waving with the woman beside him, likely his wife, as his family members boarded the train, thankfully in a different coach from his own.
He moved farther down the platform, still fearful the man would call out to anyone who might hear, and boarded the train. When he finally located his compartment and his seat, he sank down, avoiding eye contact with anyone around him, too numbed with fear. His stomach churning, he stared out the window at the people milling about.
He could see the guard urging folks to step inside the train, and soon he would come around to check tickets. He stared at a fixed spot outside the window, praying that Azriel would appear, but it never happened.
The sharp sound of the whistle blowing made his stomach sink to his toes. The train would begin moving shortly…