-Love, Rosalia.
I paused at the rusty fence latch, my fingers grazing the surface as I glanced back at ThornwoodManor. The new leaves were just starting to grow in the garden, a hopeful sign of life in my new solace. But as I stood there, the weight of the indecision settled over me. For the first time in over a fortnight, I was about to leave Thornwood.
What if I left and never came back? Where would I go? I thought about seeking refuge with Vail, but her home was crowded, and she hadn’t yet responded to my letters. Perhaps she has moved on with her life, and I was no longer a part of it.
I didn’t entertain the thought of returning to my old home; it was filled with memories I could never erase from my mind. I would grow frail in that house. Draven had assured me I would be safe with him; thus, Thornwood seemed like the only viable long-term option … for now.
My fingers trembled as I touched my lips, remembering the almost kiss. A phantom touch that left me yearning for more as I reached and opened the garden gate.
Draven’s house was at the top of a hill, and it took me longer than expected to make the journey into Elmcross through the winding path of the dense forest. I had hoped to travel with Imalda, but she was occupied all day and had handed me money to purchase what I needed instead.
Even though I’d left early the market at the edge of town was already alive with the bustle of the day. Small, colourful stalls were nestled along the narrow cobblestone streets. The scent of freshly baked bread mingled in the air with the clatter of merchants calling out their wares.
Wooden carts rumbled past, horse hooves clicking against the stones. People moved with purpose, though they still exchanged pleasantries with each other. The warmth of the market’s energy was a sharp contrast to the stillness I’d left behind at Thornwood.
I squeezed the coins in my hand, and after a quick discussion with one of the vendors, I purchased a variety of seeds for my garden.
“Rosalia!” A voice called out from behind me.
I turned to see Margorie, standing beside a cart brimming with dried herbs. She wore a dark green shawl draped around her shoulders; her long grey braid tucked under it. I approached with a warm smile. I’d heard rumors that she was part of Agnes’s coven, though I’d never been sure.
“Are you all right?” she asked, pulling me into a warm hug. “Everyone is worried sick about you. The Slayers came by your house and saw your mother’s grave. Oh, dear, I do apologize for bringing it up.”
“I am well,” I said, though the words felt hollow. Before I could say more, a flash of golden hair caught my attention. I turned to see the sunlit halo of Vail’s locks, and my breath caught in my chest.
“Excuse me,” I said quickly to Margorie, then made my way toward Vail.
“Vail!” My voice rang out across the market.
Vail turned toward my voice, and the moment her eyes met mine, time seemed to pause. Her shocked expression mirrored the whirl of emotions within me. She rushed toward me, and the world blurred as she enveloped me in a tight embrace.
“Rosalia Bertrand, where have you been?” Vail’s voice wavered between relief and frustration. Tears welled in her eyes, and her grip on my arms tightened as if she was confirming my tangible presence.
I tried to convey everything in a smile, an attempt to reassure her, yet her grip tightened as she pulled me to a secluded corner of the market behind the stalls.
“Vail, you are hurting me.”
“Hurting you? Rosalia!” Vail snapped, her anger palpable. I had never seen her so furious before as anger blazed in her blue eyes. “I thought you were a ghost. Where the hell have you been? I went to your house, and I saw the grave—” Vail’s voice caught in her throat. “I thought … I thought you might be dead as well!” Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“It is all right, Vail. I am fine.” I pulled her into a comforting embrace and gently stroked her hair. I tried to convey a sense of stability, but beneath the reassurance, guilt lingered from the fear I caused her.
“Did you not receive my letters?” I asked her.
“What letters?” She pulled back and looked at me with confusion, then glanced down, noticing my clothes.
“I have been writing you letters, telling you that I am safe.”
“I never received any letters, Rosie.” Her gaze swept over me once again as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Where have you been? And where did you get this dress?”
“Vail, I met someone.” I was unable to hide the smile that formed on my lips.
“What are you talking about?”
I frowned and took her hands in mine, needing her as an anchor for my emotions. “My mother was killed by a Blood Hunter,” I began, tears welling up in my eyes as I recounted the harrowing story. Vail couldn’t hold back her own emotions as I told her what had happened to me. “Then, just when I thought I was dead, he saved me. He pulled me from the river and brought me to his home, and that is where I have been staying.”
“Who is he?” she asked me.
I hesitated for a moment, remembering Draven’s warning not to reveal my living situation to anyone. “He lives in an old mansion on the top of this hill …”
