Wet with raindrops, Arabella stared at the now charred carnival tent, her chest heaving with the ghost of panic that still lingered in her lungs. Smoke curled upward into the gray sky, and she exhaled a shaky sigh of relief. Who would have thought that a careless cigar, dropped by those wretched crewmen, would consume the entire tent in a rapid blaze?
The drizzle did little to wash away the acrid smell of burnt canvas. Around her, children ran with tears streaking their soot stained faces, flinging themselves into their parents' arms. The sound of their sobbing cut through the quiet patter of rain. Relief and fear mingled on their expressions, alive, but only just.
Arabella's throat tightened. If she had been even a moment slower… she shuddered at the thought of bodies left behind in the flames. The ache in her chest deepened, a knot of grief for what might have been.
"You did well."
