Chapter 2
Edel’s Spring
“Welcome to Edel.”
Arlen offered a slight nod in place of a reply to the stationmaster’s perfunctory greeting. The luggage she clutched felt leaden in her grasp. After a full seven hours aboard the express train from Nortonburg, she finally stood on solid ground, taking a moment to steady her breath and readjust her grip.
The station’s sweltering air was a world away from the crisp, grassy fragrance of Nortonburg. The capital, Edel, to which she had returned after a decade, greeted her with a wind as scorching as the midsummer sun. It was hard to say whether the heat radiated from the idling train or the lukewarm, iron-scented breeze wafting from the tracks.
The city was almost unrecognizable from the one she had left for Saint Academy all those years ago, but none of these changes stirred any emotion in her now. A sudden wave of grief rose within her, and she bit her lip hard to suppress it. A familiar sting pricked the corners of her eyes. Wary of drawing attention, Arlen firmly tucked a stray wisp of hair behind her ear, pulled her bonnet down low, and swallowed her sorrow.
Her composure, however, was short-lived. Her steps faltered as she was startled by the clamor of the station, now overrun with crowds pouring from the newly arrived trains.
Which way do I go?
The platforms on both sides teemed with people either rushing to board or just disembarking. Women tugged their children through a sea of travelers dragging large trunks, while men with furrowed brows smoked, occasionally spitting curses. Having spent so long in a tranquil environment, the sudden cacophony made her ears ring.
“Special Edition! Special Edition! Remnants of the revolutionary faction captured last night in a joint operation by Duke Crawford and the Edel Police!” a newsboy bellowed.
Arlen hurried past him, spotting the passengers who had disembarked ahead of her moving toward the central hall. She quickened her pace to catch up.
Thump.
The luggage in her hand suddenly felt lighter. The next instant, the trunk tilted and crashed to the ground.
“Oh.”
The handle had broken. Just as Arlen bent to retrieve it,
BANG!
A single, ear-splitting gunshot erupted, and the air beside her ear tore violently.
Too stunned to breathe, Arlen froze. A dead silence fell over the bustling station. The gunshot had been real; the footsteps of the crowd ceased mid-stride, as if everyone had been nailed to the spot. In the chilling stillness, panicked eyes darted back and forth.
BANG!
Another gunshot ripped through the station. Two deafening reports. This was no illusion.
“It’s… it’s the revolutionaries!” someone screamed.
The cry was a lit match to a powder keg. The crowd, which had been frozen in place, jolted as if scalded and began to run, grabbing their companions and their belongings.
“Hey, out of the way!”
“Ugh!”
Shoved and jostled in the chaos, Arlen stumbled, lost her balance, and collapsed. Her right ankle slammed against an iron pillar, and a sickening pain shot up her leg.
“What is happening?”
Thrown into a maelstrom that gave her no time to think, Arlen scanned her surroundings, her face ashen. She clutched her chest, trying to calm her frantic heart, but the situation had already spiraled out of control.
“Stay calm! It’s dangerous to run!” The urgent shouts of station staff were swallowed by the rising tide of screams. The station entrance was a bottleneck of terror as people, desperate to escape the unseen gunman, crushed against one another.
“Aah! Do not push!”
“You there! What are you waiting for? Move it!”
“Waaah!”
As the ordinary station devolved into a scene from a battlefield, Arlen felt her breath catch in her throat. Her mind went numb. Unable to summon the strength to stand, she shrank into a corner and trembled.
Tweet! Tweet!
A sharp whistle cut through the din. Several men in black caps and matching uniforms—the Edel police—rushed onto the platform.
“Stop!” a commanding voice bellowed, but it was lost on the hysterical crowd.
Seeing it was futile, an officer who appeared to be in charge raised his pistol to the sky.
BANG!
The thunderous report echoed through the station. This time, it worked. The crowd froze, their eyes falling upon the dozens of officers now forming a disciplined line.
“Do not cause a disturbance. Please exit in an orderly fashion.”
The police sternly directed the passengers out, tended to the injured, and scanned the station with grim, watchful eyes. Mercifully, the two gunshots were the last.
* * *
The commotion subsided as quickly as it had begun, but Arlen remained rooted to the spot, unable to move.
“Is anyone shot? Ma’am, are you injured?” an officer asked, extending a hand as he moved through the crowd, checking on those who had fallen. He paused before Arlen, who was still huddled behind the pillar.
Half in a daze, Arlen simply shook her head.
“I am not hurt.”
The officer moved on. Arlen staggered to her feet, her legs unsteady. With the handle broken, she was forced to hug the heavy trunk to her chest. The simple act of climbing the iron stairs made her tremble.
“Miss! Miss Arlen, over here!”
A voice called her name as she exited the central hall. She looked up.
“Thank goodness you are safe.”
A young woman with a pale face ran toward her, having clearly heard about the chaos inside. She quickly checked Arlen for injuries before taking the heavy trunk with a look of profound relief.
“Betty… is that you?” Arlen asked, the name dredged from a memory a decade old. Her childhood nanny had a daughter, three years her senior, with the same faint freckles dusting her cheeks.
The girl’s dark eyes, framed by olive-colored hair, widened, her eyelids fluttering with joy.
“Yes, it is I! You remember?”
Betty’s face glowed with pleasure, but turned serious in an instant.
“We can talk in the carriage. Please, let us go.”
She led Arlen to a plain black carriage and loaded the luggage. Still dazed, Arlen climbed the steps and sank onto the seat.
The moment the door closed, the outside world was silenced. Still, it took a long time for the frantic pounding of her heart to subside. Betty watched her, her eyes filled with concern.
“Miss… are you all right? I was so worried. I thought something terrible had happened.”
“I… I am just a little dizzy. I do not understand what happened.”
The gunshots, the sudden, terrifying shift in the crowd…
“It is such a relief. I was terrified you had been caught up with those awful people.”
“Awful people?” Arlen asked, her composure slowly returning.
The maid leaned in, her expression grave.
“Those revolutionaries, the ones who support a republic. All the grim rumors you hear these days… they are behind it all.”
“The men who were shooting… they were revolutionaries?”
“Firing a gun in broad daylight? It had to be them.”
It seemed a radical group that rejected the monarchy was causing trouble all over the capital. Such news had never reached her quiet, rural boarding school, so Arlen’s shock was understandable.
“I heard they are the last remnants from the Tragedy of Leben Palace.”
Betty’s voice dropped to a whisper, as if she feared being overheard. Arlen gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. To think the perpetrators of that horrific incident from twenty years ago were still at large.
“Now that you are back, Miss, you must not be as careless as you were in Nortonburg. You have to be careful to avoid any involvement with groups like that.”
“Yes. I understand.”
As Arlen nodded, the carriage, which had been rolling along slowly, jolted to a stop. A second later, the door was flung open without so much as a knock. Outside stood several men with stern, imposing faces.
“Wh-what is the meaning of this?” Betty cried, spreading her arms protectively in front of Arlen.
The man at the forefront of the group tipped his black cap.
“Pardon the intrusion, my lady, but you will have to come with us.”
As he spoke, his eyes were fixed on Arlen.
