With how deep the cuts had felt and how much blood I had lost, I thought for sure it would take weeks to heal. Alaric had used all the power he could, but the magic of the night-forged silver dagger fought against his. The opposing magics made it impossible for him to heal the cuts completely.
He rebandages my arms, doing a better job than I had.
“Don’t worry,” I say, pulling my sleeves back down. “I will keep them wrapped.”
He nods once, still closed off to me. I hate it. I don’t want to leave things like this between us.
I made him feel untrusted… Demon shit. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
“I will have Mr. Steward include bandages and an ointment to aid healing.” Then he strides across the room and leaves without looking back.
A gentle hand rests on my shoulder, shaking me awake. I force my eyes open and blink away the blur of sleep to see Mrs. Westfield standing over me, a tallow candle set in a wrought iron holder.
“Wake up, Miss, it is almost time for you to leave.”
My eyes fly open, adjusting to the watery gray light of morning. It’s not yet dawn, but blood reds and bruising purples are smeared across the sky. Soon the sun will gild the edges of the clouds and burn away the lingering mist.
I dress quickly with Mrs. Westfield’s assistance. A simple, dark green dress with long sleeves and a modest collar, unlike the majority of the clothes I have here, designed to keep my neck exposed.
We walk down the halls of the manor. An eerie silence fills the house. It seems unusual when there is a house full of vampires and at least two demons.
The carriage waits directly in front of the steps of the manor. The driver sits on his perch, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He's unmoving as if he were carved from stone. My trunk is already tied to the back.
While I’m glad I haven’t crossed paths with the visiting vampires, I had expected Alaric to see me off. My gut clenches in disappointment.
“I have prepared a basket for you with individually wrapped meals and a few bottles of cider and water. It will be enough to get you to your destination,” Mrs. Westfield says. “Happy travels.”
Then she turns and walks away.
Alaric gave me permission to go, so why do I feel like I’m sneaking away during the middle of the night?
Pulling in a deep breath of crisp morning air, I walk down the steps toward the carriage. I don’t even know how long I have before I must return, though I assume at least a month.
My nerves hum as I lift a foot, preparing to haul myself inside. I look over my shoulder, expecting Alaric to show up any second now… but there is only the footman and myself outside at this early hour.
I don’t want to leave like this. I don’t want to leave things strained between the two of us. Guilt clings like the stench of stagnant water over what I implied last night.
I finish climbing in, resigned to waiting until after I return before setting things right.
As soon as I sit down on the cushioned bench, and look up. Alaric is standing with one hand on the open door, the other resting on the frame.
“I didn’t think you would come to see me off,” I say—my shoulders slump in relief.
He smiles at that, but there is no joy in it. I chew on the inside of my cheek. Did my implication that he would bite me without permission hurt him that much?
“I—”
He motions for me to lean forward. I do without hesitation.
Alaric places a kiss on my cheek then turns his head, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. “Your debt to me is paid—do not return to this place.”
I suck in a breath as he pulls away. My mouth hangs open. I can’t seem to wrap my mind around what he said. I haven’t drawn a drop of blood yet, he can’t mean…
“I don’t understand,” I say.
But the carriage door slams shut. Alaric knocks twice on the side, and the horses break out into a jolting run.
I barely have time to turn and look out the window to see Alaric walking up the steps toward Lawrence waiting for him. Then the trees that line the edge of the property close in and block my view.
Chapter Nine
Clara
By the time the carriage finally comes to a halt, my back aches beyond anything I could have imagined. My bottom is sore from feeling every bump and dip along the way. But a day and a half of traveling without stopping will do that.
Once I would have thought travel like that would have been impossible. But I suspect those were not ordinary horses driving this carriage, and I am beginning to doubt the footman is just a man. How else could he have survived all night, exposed to demons as we passed through the forests?
Pulling the curtain back a sliver, I look out, then all the way to take everything in. The midday sun glares down through a gap between thick gray clouds.
I don’t know this manor. When Kitty said they were well off, I'd assumed she meant they were middle class. This manor is considerably larger than anything I’ve seen in the central area of Littlemire. Then again, I have never been to the north end.
Even I could never manage to sneak my way into that part without being sent away by the local law enforcement, treated like the thief I was. Not that they had any proof.
This manor pales in comparison to Alaric’s, though it must be the largest in Littlemire.
Two servants—a man and a woman, both gray and older, open the front doors. Several long seconds pass before another man and woman exit the house. They are father’s age but look much more youthful in the brightness of their eyes and the way they hold themselves.
They are followed by a young man and a beautiful woman on his arm, her wavy brown hair is pulled up, and she is adorned in a long, yellow dress the color of buttercups in the spring.
Another young man follows them out, but my attention is drawn back to the girl. It takes me too long to understand that she is not just any girl—that is Kitty. She looks so vibrant and healthy. She is practically glowing.
They all stop at the top step, except for Kitty and the man, who must be the illustrious Abraham she told me about in her letter.
The footman finally descends from his seat and opens my door as Kitty and Abraham draw near.
I step down and before I adjust to the bright day, Kitty engulfs me in her arms, hugging me tightly.
“Oh, Clara, I hardly recognize you! I’ve missed you so much,” she says, pulling back to take me in.
She smells of perfumed soap. I'm suddenly aware of how I have been stuck in a carriage for nearly two days straight and am in desperate need of a bath and an unwrinkled dress.
“Me?” I say, laughing. “You are looking well. I hardly recognize you either.”
“We just got your letter this morning saying that you would be arriving, but we didn’t expect you so soon,” she says, looping her arm in mine.
Letter? I know I hadn’t thought of sending a message. Alaric must have sent one for me. I let out a stuttering breath at thinking his name.
The footman sets my trunk down and the two servants hurry to pick it up and take it into the house.
“This is Abraham,” Kitty beams up at him, “And this is my sister, Clara.”
He smiles, his deep brown eyes glinting with what I can only describe as pure happiness. There is a smattering of dark freckles along his cheeks and nose. He extends a hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Your sister has told me so much about you, I feel as though we are already family.”