Page 5 of To Vanquish Darkness

Amalie laughed. "That fits you already? I thought I wore that when I was at least sixteen." She hadn’t stopped loving that dress. The one with the white swans.

"It's still a bit long in the sleeves." Bethany’s eyes dropped.

She understood her sister’s impatience. She'd worn everything of her mother’s the second it no longer fell off her shoulders, regardless of whether the skirts dragged when she didn't have her boots on. All her mother's frocks, save for one, hung in the bedroom next door. She had no use for petticoats and skirts during her training and only used the one on weekends. Thankfully, there were plenty of women working hard labor in the city. She rarely received strange glances or judgment for her breeches unless she ventured too close to high society.

“You better put it back when you’re done,” Amalie teased, and Bethany huffed a laugh.

"Are you here to stay?"

Amalie pushed the now gleaming section of her sister’s hair to the side and started on the next. "Why would you want your spinster sister to mope around the cottage and accomplish nothing in her life?"

Bethany snorted. "That would only be true if my sister's soul was stolen. The sister I know would find a way to accomplish greatness no matter where she lived."

Amalie swatted her lightly on the hip with the brush. "You have far too much faith in me."

Bethany exhaled, sitting patiently as Amalie finished with the rest of her chestnut locks. Amalie had always been jealous of her sister's stock straight hair. It looked perfect the moment she rolled out of bed, whereas hers looked like a windblown bird's nest.

She could’ve made conversation about that. She could’ve teased her about the men who were surely coming around now that she was of age. She could’ve asked her about her schooling or her plans for the summer, but every time Amalie tried to open her mouth, the lump in her throat bobbed.

So instead, they sat in gentle quiet. The only sound the brush bristles whispering against Bethany’s hair. When she finished, Amalie handed the brush back to her sister. Bethany stood and padded back to the vanity, placing the brush next to the jeweled box that used to be their mother's. She wondered if Bethany had hidden any secrets there.

"Why did you come back tonight?" Bethany turned but didn't walk closer.

Amalie drew a deep breath.How much had her sister heard?She replayed her conversation with Uncle Oren, regretting instantly how she'd gotten worked up and raised her voice. "I had something I needed to bring to Uncle Oren."

"What was it?"

"Nothing you need to worry about."

Bethany rolled her eyes. "I'm fourteen, Amalie. You hardly need to protect me anymore." She stalked forward and plopped down next to her, making the bed frame creak.

"I'll always protect you, Beth." Another truth. Amalie was grateful for it.

Bethany folded her arms across her chest. "It's about mother, isn't it? About those stories you used to tell?"

Amalie's heart sped in her chest. Uncle Oren had forbidden her from talking about what she'd seen that night. He'd takenthe books their mother had found in a closet at the estate. The ones that held the old stories about Le Sombre. About the curse. About unearthly creatures that lured humans into their clutches and drained their victims of blood.

Amalie shivered. "I'm sorry I filled your head with those nightmares."

Bethany shook her head. "You were a child, Ams. We both were."

In her head, Amalie knew it was true, but her heart refused to believe it. She should've known better.She should've been better.

"You're not going to tell me what you brought." Bethany lowered her eyes.

"It's not that I don't want to."

"Then what is it?" She looked up, her eyes glassy.

"Beth, I promise I'll tell you the second you turn sixteen." She worried her bottom lip. That was reasonable, wasn't it? This wasn't the same as what Uncle Oren had done to her. Bethany was still a child. "As long as you haven't gone and gotten yourself married by then."

Bethany screwed up her nose. "Married to whom?"

Amalie laughed out loud. "Matthew, for one! Or that boy who always used to wait at the back gate and?—"

"Gabriel? Absolutely not!" Bethany playfully shoved her shoulder. "He still chews on the collar of his shirts!"

Amalie pulled a face, and Bethany giggled like she had when they were young. Amalie could still see her there—that wide-eyed girl who had traipsed along behind her on their adventures along the river in the summers. Now her features had sharpened at the edges, and the freckles across her nose had faded. With her long, dark lashes and full lips, she was more beautiful than cute. It made Amalie's heart twinge.

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