Chapter 44 Fates Interference
Ilse let out a sharp, ragged breath. She looked at Gisella, her face ghostly pale. Honestly, seeing Gisella scared out of her wits made Ilse realize something, she'd gone way too far.
If she kept forcing Gisella to get anywhere near a lunatic like Julian Vance, the girl would just snap. Ilse didn't want Gisella ending up as some hated villain just because of this stupid, half-baked scheme.
"Enough," Ilse muttered.
Gisella looked over, confused. "What?"
"We're going home. Forget the guy. Forget the whole plan." Ilse grabbed Gisella's hand, dragging her out of the alley. "We don't need Vance's influence. We'll find another way. I'm not letting you get ruined over my weird obsession."
Gisella didn't say much. She just nodded, letting herself be pulled along.
Once they reached the Varranes family carriage parked at the edge of the district, the real drama kicked off. The ground was slop, soaked with city runoff and mud.
"Oh, for god's sake," Gisella groaned, staring down at her sparkly silk shoes. She hiked her skirts up high, face twisted in pure disgust. "This is filthy, Ilse! I'll literally die if I step in that sludge!"
"Get in, Gisella! Now!" Ilse shoved her back, losing patience.
"Wait! I need to find a spot....."
"There's no spot! Lift your feet or we're getting mugged!" Ilse finally yanked her arm hard enough that Gisella had to scramble awkwardly up the carriage step.
"Ugh! My shoes!" Gisella screeched as the tip of her shoe hit black muck. She flopped into the carriage, sulking, grumbling about how it would take all day to clean. Ilse just rolled her eyes, hauled herself in, and slammed the door shut.
The ride home was quiet, too quiet. Until, suddenly...
CRACK!
The carriage lurched violently, tilted left, and skidded to a dead stop, throwing them both off the seats.
"Damn it!" Ilse cursed, clutching her head where she'd smacked it against the doorframe.
"What happened?!" Gisella shrieked, losing her mind.
The coachman opened the door, looking pale as a ghost. "Apologies, Young Miss... the front left wheel came off. The road's trashed. It'll take at least three hours to fix."
"Three hours?!" Gisella sounded like she was about to cry. "You've got to be kidding me."
But he wasn't kidding. He spent the next three hour hunched over the wheel on the desolate road. The sun dipped low, painting the sky in darkening shades of orange. The air turned cold.
Gisella had run out of steam to complain, she just sat back, staring listlessly out the window.
Then, from the distance, came the sound of hooves. A lot of them. Not just a normal carriage.
"Ilse, someone's coming," Gisella whispered, getting tense.
The convoy a massive setup with an expensive-looking crest slowed down, then stopped right behind their broken-down ride.
Someone stepped out of the main carriage. A man in dark velvet. The same one from the tavern. Julian Vance. He stood in the middle of the road, staring at their broken carriage with an unreadable expression.
Gisella froze. Ilse held her breath.
This wasn't a coincidence. It was a disaster.