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Amelie swallowed hard, her palms becoming slick. She felt the almost overwhelming urge to return home to the cottage.

Perhaps it was the wisest thing to do. Her siblings would be relieved. She could sleep in her own bed.

But she knew that wasn’t an option, or she wouldn’t have set out in the first place. By coming to Castle Grange, Colette would be safe. Raphael and Marcel would be safe. Amelie had understood the risks before leaving the cottage, and she needed to follow through on her decision.

As they approached the closed gate, Amelie expected Trésor to slow her pace. The horse ambled onward and the gate creaked open by an invisible force. Trésor passed through the threshold onto the long pebbled driveway, the gate immediately closing behind them.

Amelie gazed up at the towers again, where steel-grey clouds swirled around the turrets. A light rain began to fall just as the mare stopped at the foot of the drawbridge.

“I suppose this is as far as you can take me,” said Amelie.

The horse flicked her ears back and forth.

Amelie dismounted. She wobbled on the spot for a moment, her legs stiff from the ride, and pulled her cloak tightly across her chest. At the other end of the drawbridge, the high wooden door to the keep lay open. The depths beyond appeared shadowy and still.

“Thank you again,” said Amelie, stroking Trésor’s neck and kissing her muzzle. “Do you know where to go now?”

The mare blinked slowly and nudged Amelie. Trésor turned to the right and trotted off, disappearing around the side of the castle. Amelie had to stop herself from calling the horse back for comfort.

The rain fell harder, as if directing her inside. She drew the hood of her cloak over her head and crossed the drawbridge, her leather boots nimble on the wooden boards. At the door, she paused.

Would a butler greet her? Should she wait? Call out?

Aside from being bad manners, she was reluctant to enter the castle uninvited for safety’s sake. When her brothers barged inside unannounced, they’d landed in a great deal of trouble.

But she couldn’t stand outside forever, either. She took one tentative step into the doorway, the cool wind lifting her cloak and hair. No butler or footmen appeared.

The cavernous keep was dark, except for a few sputtering candles mounted on the walls. Gigantic burgundy curtains draped the arched doorways, through which were unlit hallways. The air smelled of incense and fresh-cut pine.

What now? Surely the door was not left open by accident.

“Enter,” came an impossibly deep, thunderous voice.

CHAPTER 6

The tiny hairs on the back of Amelie’s neck stood up.

Was that the beast? She looked around wildly but only saw empty corridors.

The door closed heavily behind her of its own accord, making her flinch.

“You are the eldest sister of the brothers Desrosiers?”

His voice echoed off the soaring stone ceilings. Amelie’s eyes darted around the room, searching for the source. This time, she found him.

He stood beneath one of the curtains to her left. The shadows concealed his features, but the candlelight silhouetted his form. Impossibly tall and broad, he was far larger than any man ought to be. Her thoughts immediately went to strange, panicked places. What if he was part giant? Or demon?

“Well, are you?” he repeated.

“Y-yes,” she replied, cursing herself for stammering. She’d wanted to appear brave. “Yes, My Lord. My name is Amelie Desrosiers.”

“Amelie,” he repeated in his sonorous voice.

When he spoke her name, Amelie felt it in the base of her spine, rooting her to the spot. Hearing her own name had never had that effect on her before.

“Very well,” he went on. “We dine at eight o’clock in the Great Hall. Do not be late.”

“I, wh—” she started.