Page 91 of Monsters in Love

Emmi wasn’t old enough to leave town, and there was no more Thomas to stand between her and the captain’s desires. In truth, she should be surprised he’d waited a year to make his move.

My love, I need you. She pressed the ring against her heart.Show me what to do…

Awareness skittered over her skin.

Something was watching her.

Breath catching in her chest, she forced herself to her feet and searched the alley—but there was no one in sight. No figures stood in windows, judging her from inside their warm cottages. Yet she couldn’t shake the sensation. Slowly, her gaze lifted above the rooftops to the belfry.

The tower stood against the sky, all weathered gray stone crowned with a sharp spire.

None of the deacons walked the ramparts or rang the bell.

She must have been imagining things—she’d been doing that a lot since Thomas was taken. Feeling eyes on her only to find nothing around. Finding herself staring at the belfry, as if it held the answers to her heartache.

Perhaps it did.

The stark tower should have been imposing, and yet its steady presence soothed the raw edges of her grief. As if the lone pillar stood against the blue sky just to remind her it was possible to reach beyond your means, like a compass that pointed to dreams instead of the north.

Every time she studied the belfry, her breath seemed to steady and her resolve to escape Windhaven grew.

Her fingers tightened into fists. Her chin lifted.

Enough tears. The demons could eat her flesh before she’d agree to marry bloody Jaston.

She scrubbed her face dry and marched toward her cottage with renewed determination. There had to be a way to escape Jaston—and she’d damned well find it. She’d spent the past year studying paths and patterns, surely she could navigate this situation. She had an entire day. She’d solve this puzzle. Jaston would give up. Isabelle would remain free. Then as soon as Emmi reached her majority, they’d leave.

Her love had died in Windhaven.

Isabelle wouldn’t choose another just to have a body in her bed—nor would she make a future in the town that killed him.

The rolls were finished, and so was Isabelle. She felt as if she’d been rolled in seeds and baked in the stone oven alongside the day’s bread by the time she escaped the cottage and her mother’s watchful eye. Gods. If she had to hear about Jaston’s fine chin one more time, she’d shave her head and live in the trees.

In truth, that might be her only remaining option.

And if it wasn’t for her sister, she’d gladly take such a life. But she had Emmi to protect. What she didn’t have was any semblance of a plan for getting rid of Jaston’s affections.

Get some air.

Figure it out.

Brushing flour from her skirts, she tipped her face up to the afternoon sun and drew in a deep breath.

Fallen Gods of Gold and Scale, what was she to do?

Unable to remain still, she started walking. She wove around carts and townspeople, letting her thoughts wander. Sending her unwanted suitor packing by informing him she’d rather wed his horse was guaranteed to land her entire family in difficulties. Isabelle might struggle to find care for her mother these days, but she couldn’t put Emmi in danger.

Rejecting the beloved Captain of the Guard?

Not the best plan.

Like her mother’s Chastry-approved rolls, that was a recipe for a chipped tooth—or worse. Unfortunately, Belle hadn’t found another solution, no matter how hard she’d kneaded the morning’s dough.

Think, think, think.

The sun heated her back as she moved inextricably toward the farm. Even now, a year after Thomas and his father had been cast down to the demons, she was drawn to the place. Whether it was the relative quiet of the fields or a way to remain closer to Thomas’ memory, she couldn’t say.

Probably both.

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