Page 33 of To Vanquish Darkness

Rachel stopped in front of the open shutter and shivered. The thin fabric of her dressing gown did nothing to fight off the damp breeze. She stared into the shadows, broken only by reflected moonlight on the river. “What is there to see?” Florent slung a leg over the window sill, and Rachel gasped. “Don’t, you’ll fall?—”

“I won’t fall.” Florent tugged on her hand, pulling her against his side. He wrapped her arms around his chest then gripped her waist. “Hold on. I promise I won’t let you go.”

14

1836 NORTHERN NORMANDY, FRANCE

Amalie scanned her room a second time, searching the back wall. There. The door was hardly obvious, hidden in the paneling.

She strode across the room, the idea of a bath so enticing, her breathing quickened. Her skin was covered in a fine layer of silt, and she didn’t want to know what her feet smelled like.

You need a bath.Theo was rude. Not exactly cruel, but definitely not kind. He seemed to both despise her and . . .

Amalie’s cheeks flushed as she remembered how he seemed to undress her with his eyes. It was because of what he was. What she was. He desired her blood, nothing more.

And yet he hadn’t taken it.

Amalie frowned as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

Her eyes widened as she took in the scene before her. The room was bright, a long window on the far wall letting in streams of golden sunlight. It was morning, Amalie realized. They'd reached the island when the sun was barely rising. No wonder she was exhausted.

A woman in a cap and apron stood by a large copper tub, her brow furrowed in concentration as she stoked the fire beneath.Her eyes widened as she noticed Amalie. "Oh! Mademoiselle, I didn't hear you come in." The servant girl stood frozen, her hands trembling slightly as she clutched the iron poker. She was young, perhaps no older than Amalie, with wide brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her nose. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose knot at the nape of her neck, wisps escaping to frame her face.

She was human. Amalie's pulse sped. Did this woman know she was working in a vampire's lair?

"The water's warm enough. Master Vallon insisted you'd want it steaming. If you wait a few moments, it will get there." The servant stood, wiping her hands on her apron, leaving a streak of ash on the fabric.

"Thank you." Amalie's eyes darted around the room. The scent of eucalyptus and lavender hung heavy in the air, her favorite herbs for a bath.Strange.

She walked to the edge of the tub and dipped her hand in the water. She couldn't keep from sighing. A bowl of rose petals floated on the surface of the water, their delicate pink hue contrasting with the copper of the tub. Amalie's lips parted in wonder. She'd never been treated to such luxuries. Aunt Maurielle was a practical woman. She believed in oregano soap and a stiff brush.

Amalie turned and took in the array of jars and bottles lining the shelves. Each was meticulously labeled in elegant script, boasting names like lavande, romarin, and chamomile. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing over the glass, feeling the cool, smooth surface beneath her skin.

"For your feet." The servant handed her a jar of salve, then paused. She glanced between the shelves and Amalie, her mouth opening and closing.

“What is it?” Amalie asked.

The servant’s cheeks flushed. “Master Vallon said it wouldn’t be necessary to provide monthly cloths. You may n-not . . . I only meant that your visit may be short, but?—”

“It’s not necessary.” Blood rushed in Amalie’s ears. The servant girl bobbed her head and exited through the door to Amalie's room. She hadn't been there before, had she? She must have come in while she was talking with Theo, which meant . . .

Amalie looked down at the ointment in her hands. Had Theo planned this? Had he known she'd come to his room, or had he planned to provide a bath well after they arrived? Had he noticed her feet before they’d arrived at the castle?

Why had he told his servant not to provide monthly cloths? Surely he couldn’t know . . . Amalie tensed. Could vampires sense a woman’s menstruation? The thought made her stomach roil.

It didn’t matter for her. She set the jar on the counter. She’d never bled, and neither had her sister. It was part of their blood condition, and she’d never quite understood it. If they didn’t bleed, they couldn’t become pregnant. Yet her mother had birthed two healthy girls?—

Blood rushed in Amalie’s ears as another piece slid into place. It wasn’t a blood condition. Was it possible she didn’t bleed because she was a guardian?

Amalie felt suddenly woozy, and her gaze shifted to a tray set on a small wooden table. Fresh bread, a wedge of cheese, and a cluster of grapes. Her stomach growled, and she realized with a start how hungry she was. She'd been so consumed with her mission, she'd scarcely thought about food.

Amalie reached for a grape, the skin taut and glistening. She popped it into her mouth, savoring the burst of sweetness on her tongue. There was a knife on the tray, and she used it to slice off some cheese, briefly wondering if she should hold onto the blade. Keep it hidden in her trousers.

But what would be the point? If Theo or a vampire in his coven decided to attack her, there was nothing she would be able to do to save herself. She set the knife down and tore off a piece of bread.

After her stomach was moderately full, she reached for the buttons of her shirt. She undressed quickly, her movements efficient. She didn't want to linger on the fact that she was standing naked in Theo's home, that she was about to immerse herself in a bath he'd arranged for her.

Why had he done this? It wasn't to be considerate, that she was sure of. He'd been happy for her to huddle on a stone floor wrapped in a potato sack hours earlier. Maybe this was how he treated all his human guests. Pampered them before he drank their blood. Maybe the servants here didn't know how to offer anything different.

---