"Hey, it's time to leave" Drake groaned, leaning over her. His face was so close to her's that they were almost touching.

She jumped up startled, smacking her head into his. The searing pain forced her to lay back down in her bed, covering her face with her hands, muttering a million different curses.

"Why the hell would you do that?" she asked sitting up after a minute to find him laying on her bed face down, acting like a child. He made no attempt to move and showed no sign that he had even heard her.

Great she thought. He's had another sleepless night and it's pushed him over the edge. He's living off his last bit of energy.

"Drake," she said kicking him with her feet. When he didn't even roll over, she slipped out of the bed and got dressed, not even bothering to look at her hair. She glanced at the old grandfather clock in the corner of her room. It was already eight and the train left at nine.

"Come on," she sighed, grabbing, Drake's hand and pulling him off the bed.

She smiled, proud of herself for getting him to his feet, but then he started leaning forward, further and further. He was falling forward onto her! She screamed as he collapsed onto her. Moaning, she held him up.

"Do not, make me get Dane to carry you downstairs," she threatened him, "because I will. We are leaving today!"

He groaned slightly and then stood up. The dark circles under his eyes were so black that she might've mistaken it for eyeliner. Opening his eyes, he said, "Let's just get to the train station. It's going to take forever to get through customs."

"So as usual we're going to a new train station?" she asked.

"You'll see," he sighed, beginning to walk out of her room.

"Shouldn't we tell Amon and Dane we're leaving?" she asked.

He turned around to look at her, "What?"

He sounded as if he had actually not heard her. "Amon and Dane," she repeated herself, loudly, "shouldn't we tell them we're leaving?"

"I have enough money," Drake said, not even answering her question.

She rolled her eyes and then taking his hand, led him downstairs, praying he wouldn't fall. Each step they took seemed to put him closer to falling asleep, until he was leaning heavily on her.

"You know," he muttered, through closed eyes, "have you realized that when we touch we don't hear each other?"

"Yes," she muttered, taking the last step, "of course I have. I'm pretty sure we've gone over this a hundred times."

"Makes you think we should be touching all the time," he chuckled.

She rolled her eyes. It would be a very long day. "Get up," she said, irritated, pushing him off herself.

"You have no idea the headache I have," he muttered, standing up.

Once his hand left her shoulder, she felt his headache in the back of her head and cringed. He was right it was like someone were slicing her head open with an ax. As they neared the doors, she wondered if she should run all the way back up to Dane's room to say goodbye to him and to thank him.

"He won't give a damn," Drake grumbled by her side.

They both stepped into the carriage and sat down, the driver closing the door behind them.

"God," Drake sighed, leaning against the window.

Jade rolled her eyes again and leaned back into the red velvet cushions. She'd never been in this carriage before. It was so decorative compared to the ones Damien always chose to ride. The entire inside was red, while the outside was a sparkling white laced with gold and pink flowers and swirls, and not just the color gold, real gold. Almost like the icing on a cupcake. There were even designs on the cushions.

"It's just another carriage," Drake growled, staring out the window, tracing his finger in the glass drawing mindlessly in ice on the window.

There was a sudden jolt and then the clip-clop of hooves against the stone. The carriage popped up and down at the slightest bump in the road, which didn't help Drake's headache in the slightest. He scowled, watching the white flakes of snow drift down from the sky. Dane had once told him that no flake was alike, but as he watched millions of them sift down, he seriously doubted his uncle.

They passed through the forest without seeing any signs of life except for the occasional stag or falcon, but once they were off Damien's estates they reached a village, where many people took the time to stand still and gawk and the splendor of the carriage, wondering who was inside. The streets were covered in ice and snow so the carriage had to be driven slowly, giving the people the opportunity to come so close to the carriage that they could touch it. Men with faces worn by the sun during hard labor so that their skin looked like leather, plump little women carrying bread or children, families of five or six all together laughing jovially, passed by his window. A father carrying his son on his shoulders, while the boy lifted his hands to the sky, snatching at the snowflakes, walked on without even glancing at the carriage.

Bored, Drake leaned over enough to see in front of the carriage. They were very close to the station. Damien had wanted it that way, he was constantly leaving and always in such a hurry. All of his homes were close to stations.

The carriage skidded to a stop in front of an enormous white marble building. Icicles were hanging from every pigeon perched window.

"Come on," Jade said tugging at his shoulder. She was already outside of the carriage. Yawning, he stepped out, careful to not slip on the icy road.

However, inside the train station wasn't that much better, because the freshly waxed floors were even more slippery. They reflected every lantern lit light, every candle lit chandelier, and even the thousands of people walking along it. It was the color of deeply stained old paper. A kind of brown with the tint of orange was spilt over the entire ground. He could just faintly see the original pattern of forest greens and burnt red that made out the image of a gargantuan train. At one point it must've been so delicate looking with all of it's fine details, but now it was nothing more than a smudge, a stain, unwanted.

There was an enormous clock tower in the center of the floor, big enough for someone to live in. Drake wondered if he could hear it's incessant ticking from any floor, it was so loud. It was well crafted though. Made of pure, gold and etched with roman numerals, it moved steadily, relying on the spinning cogs and gears and yet it was cracked like hundreds of veins ruining across its marble face.