Page 90 of To Vanquish Darkness

Bethany shot her a look, then slipped past their aunt and disappeared into the hall.

Amalie stood. She barely made it two steps before Maurielle was folding her into her arms. "I'm so glad you're safe." Her body was warm and soft, and she smelled of herbs and strong soap. "Come," Aunt Maurielle said, stepping back and holding out a hand. "I'm sure you're hungry."

Amalie followed her aunt downstairs. She patted the ring in her pocket, and her pulse quickened. It was from Theo’s coven, which meant he knew the vampire who had been meeting with her mother. He knew the vampire who killed her.

The only question was, did he know he knew? Was this another piece of information he’d been keeping from her?

But she’d asked him if he knew who killed her, and Theo hadn’t avoided answering. Even though he’d kept things from her, he’d never lied, not directly.

Amalie held her breath as Maurielle rounded the corner to the dining room. Would he be there? She assumed Maurielle sent Bethany away because Theo was in the house, but she hadn’t realized how much she’d been hoping to see him until she stepped into the candlelight and found him seated next to Uncle Oren.

The dining room was quaint. Just as she remembered it, with a muslin tablecloth and a small vase of fall blooms in the center. She took her seat across from Theo where a plate already waited.

Theo's eyes flicked to the locket around Amalie's neck, but he didn't say anything. She wondered if he could sense the ring hidden in her pocket.

Amalie picked up her fork and glanced up at Aunt Maurielle. "Thank you. It smells delicious."

Uncle Oren waited for her to take the first bite, then began cutting his meat. Theo swirled a glass in front of him. Absinthe, she assumed by the color. She held back her surprise that Oren and Maurielle would have any in the house.

Theo looked tired. She hadn’t noticed how his cheekbones were dusted with shadow in the office. She’d only seen him look like that one other time. In the castle. When he’d been about to leave and she’d stopped him.

The memory of him next to her in his closet. His lips against her skin . . . Her cheeks heated, and she focused on her plate, shoving a piece of potato into her mouth.

When she looked up, Theo's eyes were on her.Because you asked me to.His words in the study thrummed through her.

He had been protecting guardians. Working with Uncle Oren all this time. Is that where he’d gone when he left the castle? He would be a perfect ally, powerful, and free to walk during daylight. Had she known that about him in a past life?

Amalie speared a tender piece of chicken and placed it in her mouth. Who was Theo Vallon to her? Who did she want him to be?

“I’ve brought down books for you.” Uncle Oren swiped at his mouth with a napkin. “I know it’s long overdue, but I’ll answer your questions, Amalie. Whatever you want to know.”

Amalie looked up from her plate. Her uncle’s eyes were sad, almost glassy in the candlelight. “My mother’s books?”

He nodded. “She read them more than I did. They were passed down to us by our—” His voice caught, and he coughed into his napkin. “By her mother,” he finished, his voice strained.

The air in the room grew thick. “Her mother?” Amalie’s fork sat still in her hand.

Oren drank from his glass. “Rachel and I weren’t family by birth. She was in need of a home. We adopted her in.” He glanced up at Theo, but Theo’s eyes were still trained on her.

Amalie suddenly felt like a rabbit caught in a trap. She set her fork on her plate. “Where are the books?”

Oren nodded to the hall. “In my study. I set them on my desk.”

Amalie stood and placed her napkin on the table. “Thank you.” She dropped her eyes and strode from the room.

She couldn’t make it down the hall fast enough. She entered the study and closed the door behind her, pressing her forehead against the cool wood.

It felt as if she were staring at the sea, watching a tidal wave rushing toward the shore, ready to swallow her, but her feet were buried in sand.

There was something in her past that neither Oren or Theo wanted to tell her. The way they looked at her, sitting in wait.

Was she supposed to remember? Had she remembered before?

Amalie straightened and strode to her uncle’s desk, the scent of dust and aged paper settling in her nostrils. Her heart galloped as she saw the stack of books below where her uncle had been standing earlier when she’d caught him with Theo.

She hunched over and pressed her hands against the desk, her dark hair falling into her face. She brushed it behind her ear in an irritated flick and pulled the first book from the pile. The spine was cracked, the book bound with worn leather, and the title was almost unreadable.

Le Livre de la Garde.Amalie sat in her uncle’s chair and opened it. The pages were fragile, the words penned in ink. Theo’s voice sounded in her head.Human histories are necessary because your life spans are short. Those stories must be recorded more permanently.

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