Page 80 of To Vanquish Darkness

Could she ever be sure she’d lost him? She still didn’t understand how powerful he was. Theo had been able to track her, but once she thought he was dead, she hadn’t been careful.

It wasn’t an option not to go to her family.

She’d have to do everything she could to mitigate the risk.

Amalie took her key to the innkeeper, thanked him, and asked if she could leave through the servant’s door. He gave her a strange look but acquiesced.

She pushed through the steamy, bustling kitchen and exited into the back alley, filled with food scraps and a striped tabby cat, most likely the same one that had given her a start the night before.

Amalie made her way to the street. She looked both ways, scanning for Ren amidst the vendors and townsfolk visiting the boulangerie for their morning baguette. When she was sure he wasn’t there, she lowered her head and started walking.

She should’ve found a disguise. Something to cover her hair, at least. It was too recognizable. Her attention snagged on a rack of scarves on display on the other side of the street. She crossed, her heart picking up speed.

Amalie wasn’t a thief, but she didn’t have any money and her family was in danger. She ran the soft fabric of a midnight blue scarf through her fingers and memorized the location of the shop. She could come back and pay them later.

When she was about to pull the scarf into her shirt, the hairs on her neck prickled. Amalie’s eyes snapped up, and there he was. Ren was strolling leisurely past the shops, his hands tucked into his pockets. He caught her eye and smiled.

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple as she let go of the scarf and jogged down one of the side streets. She swiped it away, clenching her jaw. Ren was like a cat. Toying with her until he pulled her back into his clutches.

She was more convinced by the second that he wasn’t on Theo’s errand. But why was he there? Did he suspect that she was a guardian? Is that why he’d told her the name of the man who had been attacked?

As Amalie turned onto a side street, she paused, catching her breath. She wouldn’t be able to outrun him. It had been stupidity to think she could escape the town unnoticed.

Pressure built behind her eyes as her breathing quickened, panic gripping her chest. She pulled at the neck of her shirt. Her clothes were too tight.

She looked up, expecting to see Ren’s gray eyes peering at her, but instead she froze. Marcel and Olivie strode up the street toward her. Marcel wore the same clothes he’d been in the night before. Olivie, on the other hand, looked more like a stable boy than a woman. Her hair was pulled up under a cap, and she wore a plain white shirt, her mustard colored trousers cinched at the waist with a brown belt.

Amalie straightened, forcing air into her lungs.

“Amalie.” Olivie moved as if she wanted to rush toward her, and the thought of her friend wrapping her in a hug made her lip tremble. “Good to see you’re still alive.”

Amalie coughed a laugh. “See, Marcel? Olivie knows how to be polite.”

Her comment pulled a hint of a smile from him. “You’re still here.”

Amalie pursed her lips. “You found Olivie.” She looked to her right, then stepped out into the street, allowing the morning sun to wash over her. Olivie’s eyes widened, and Amalie could barely speak around the lump in her throat. “This is all I have to offer.I can’t think of any other way to prove myself, but if you have ideas?—”

“Follow me.” Marcel turned and walked back the way they’d come. Olivie matched his stride, glancing over her shoulder as Amalie tagged along like a baby duckling.

She refused to scan the streets for Ren. She didn’t want to see him there leaning against the wall, smirking.

It felt as if a lead weight sat on her chest, and her stomach grumbled as they reached the edge of town and paused in front of a café tucked along the river walk. Marcel asked for a table, and when the two of them sat, Amalie took the chair across from them in the shade.

The other tables were full. Men and women sat with their coffees, reading the morning paper. Two older men smoked while they puzzled over a chessboard. Such normalcy. It made her heart ache.

Marcel and Olivie ordered coffee and croissants. Amalie abstained. She didn’t have any money, and even if she did, her hands were already shaking.

Marcel grunted. “Why didn’t you send us information?”

Amalie exhaled. Did this mean he believed her? Or was he playing a game of his own? “I didn’t have everything I needed yet.”

“You do now?”

She held her breath, wondering what the right answer was. Did she have what she needed to help the Pourfendeurs? Yes. And no. She shook her head.

Marcel watched her. “What have you found so far?”

“Will you believe me if I tell you?”

---