Page 16 of Sophie’s Ruin (Crimson and Shadows #2)

The village was bustling with activity when I arrived, which took me by surprise.

I’d thought the other night had been the exception because of the celebration, but seeing people milling around now, despite it being late evening, proved it was the norm.

The crowded street was illuminated by dozens of lanterns sprinkled throughout the settlement, and various sounds and smells floated through the air.

My gaze glided over the throng of people, looking for Damien, but his tall, thin frame and blond head were nowhere to be seen.

After a few seconds of not finding him, I decided to look for Celeste instead.

The witch smelled like herbs and tea leaves to me, and my nostrils flared as I tried to pluck her scent from the others.

After I’d identified it, I followed it to one of the cabins—the same one I’d come across the other night.

Amelie had been sitting on these very steps, and judging by her floral scent that permeated the air on the porch, she hadn’t simply chosen this spot to be closer to the celebration; she lived here.

I knocked on the simple wooden door and waited, catching another familiar scent—Waylon was inside the house.

Was he staying here? Two nights ago, when he’d left Celeste’s cottage, I hadn’t followed him into the village, trusting Isabelle to keep an eye on him.

I knew that one of the witches had agreed to take him in, but I didn’t know which one.

An older witch opened the door a few seconds later.

“You must be Sophie,” she said, beaming at me. “We have been expecting you. I’m Genevieve, Amelie’s mom. Please, come in. Join us for some tea.”

She stepped to the side and extended her arm in a welcoming gesture.

I quickly took in her unbound, flaming-red hair and open, round face.

Amelie was a spitting image of her mother, down to the copper freckles covering her nose and the apples of her cheeks.

My heart squeezed as I lingered on the threshold, momentarily lost in thought about my own mother.

Our resemblance had been uncanny as well, and based on what I’d been able to do by the creek earlier, it appeared I had not only inherited her looks but also her magical prowess.

“Sophie?” Genevieve asked, her soft voice gently pulling me from my thoughts.

She was looking at me expectantly, and after another beat of silence, I stepped inside and followed her deeper into the small but cozy house.

My vampire ears picked up on lively banter and laughter drifting from the direction we were heading.

When we walked into the cramped kitchen, Waylon and Amelie promptly stepped away from each other, putting as much distance between them as the tight space allowed.

Waylon was trying and failing at hiding a grin, and Amelie’s cheeks were flushed when they both whipped their heads to the kitchen’s entrance.

“Sophie!” Amelie exclaimed, clearly happy to see me. “Would you like some tea?” she asked in a soft voice, which was so much like her mother’s.

“Yes, please.” I smiled at her. “Where is Celeste?” I asked.

The witch been here earlier—her scent still lingered in the air.

“She left to visit Agatha,” Genevieve replied while setting out four simple teacups on the table.

My heart thumped over in my chest. Did Celeste somehow suspect that Agatha’s son had been helping me develop my magic?

I quickly dismissed the thought. I hadn’t been followed the last two nights, I was sure of it.

She had no way of knowing…unless the hex bag had not only a tracking spell on it but also a spying one.

I pulled the pouch out of my pocket and eyed it suspiciously.

“Sophie, can we talk in private for a moment?” Waylon asked, tension bracketing his mouth. Gone was the mischievous, carefree grin from a few minutes ago. Now, Waylon’s face was all hard lines and wariness.

“Sure,” I replied, as I shoved the hex bag back into my pocket and walked out of the kitchen.

Waylon followed me back to the front door, and we stepped outside, stopping on the other side of the threshold.

“So, you and Amelie?” I asked without further ado.

Waylon’s brows slammed down as he shifted from foot to foot.

“Her family took me in…they had an extra room,” he said, clasping the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable with this conversation.

“It’s not just her and Genevieve, of course.

There is a man of the house—Alaric, Genevieve’s husband and Amelie’s father,” he added, looking down and to the side as if lost in thought.

He must have borrowed the loose white shirt and buckskin breeches he was wearing from the warlock. It was strange seeing Waylon in anything but the guard leathers, but the simple clothing suited him. Amelie suited him as well.

“Amelie seems very genuine and sweet,” I said, and Waylon’s forest-green eyes shot to mine.

“I don’t need your approval,” he grumbled, his fair brows knitting.

“I know. Just like I didn’t need yours,” I said simply.

I hadn’t asked for his approval before deciding to become a vampire.

Waylon was a lifelong friend and had been more in the past, but only one person’s opinion had mattered to me back then—my father’s.

A pang pierced my heart at the thought. The last time I’d seen him, he’d been setting off toward the Northern region while we’d been preparing for war.

He would have still been traveling when I’d defeated the Dark Witches.

Had the clans begun spreading the lie that they’d pushed the Dark Witches back to the Black Forest?

Had my father turned around when he’d heard it?

I wanted to see him, but fear took root in my chest. What if the clans decided to use him in addition to Henry to lure me out?

I swallowed thickly. The clans didn’t know who my father was, and without knowing his whereabouts, all I could do was hope they wouldn’t find out.

I hoped to see my father again soon, but I also felt like I couldn’t face him right now.

Because if I did…would he be disappointed in me because I wasn’t putting humanity before myself this time?

Or would he understand, just like he’d understood my decision to turn?

“Where did you go?” Waylon asked, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I blinked several times and refocused on him.

“I was just thinking about my father,” I admitted.

A muscle flexed along Waylon’s jaw as his eyes searched my face. His gaze grew distant for a moment, and I knew that while I was thinking about one human—my father—he was thinking about the entire human population of the Empire.

“When do you think we can go back?” he asked low, his eyes returning to me.

His tone told me he wanted to press for answers but was choosing not to. He needed me, and he didn’t want to push me.

“I’ve been making progress with my magic, but it’s only been three nights.” I forced the words out, even though I hated them.

It had been three nights of Henry being tortured and starved.

From Isabelle, I knew he’d been injured during the altercation in the study before he’d been taken.

The clan leaders would withhold blood from him so he wouldn’t heal.

Without blood, he would remain weak and wouldn’t be able to put up a fight and escape.

My magic bubbled up in my veins at the thought.

“I know how determined you are, Sophie. Once you set your mind to something, there is no stopping you,” Waylon said, and while the words were meant to be encouraging, they set me on edge.

It was as if by saying them, he had picked up a large stone and sat it on my shoulders, adding to the weight that was already pressing down on me.

“I’m doing everything I can,” I bit out. “You know I want to leave as soon as possible, but Celeste…she’s holding me back.”

“Why would she do that?” he asked, his brows pinching in confusion.

“She wants me to get to know my magic and not force it. She’s underestimating me.”

Waylon seemed to think it over. “I don’t know, Sophie. She’s old and wise. I doubt she would be giving you that advice if she didn’t have a very good reason.”

“There is no reason good enough to hold me back. Especially not now,” I said vehemently.

Waylon’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to say something else, but clamped it shut when Amelie cracked open the front door and poked her head out.

“Tea is ready,” she announced with a small smile.

Her lips turned down as her gaze darted between Waylon and me.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, opening the door wider and stepping onto the porch.

“Did Celeste give instructions not to help me with my magic?” I asked the girl.

“She did,” she admitted, and I shot Waylon a pointed look—see.

“But I’m sure it’s for your own good,” Amelie added, her brows knitting. “Celeste only has your best interest at heart.”

When I scoffed and averted my gaze, it landed on the busy street.

“It’s late. Why is everyone still out and about?” I asked, curious.

“The Dark Witches were most active at night, so we adopted the same lifestyle to be better protected from them. We didn’t want them to catch us unawares if they ever broke through the protective barrier surrounding the village,” Amelie explained.

“Some of us are still active during the day, of course, to keep watch and to tend to our gardens.”

“Smart,” I murmured to myself, still looking at the people going about their day, or rather, night.

Some were carrying pails of water from the well at the other end of the village, while others were trading root vegetables and herbs.

A group of women sat on the porch steps of one of the cabins, mending clothes together, while their children played, their laughter spilling into the night.

The sounds of hammering and wood-chopping echoed through the settlement from where a few men were fixing one of the houses.

Absentmindedly, I let my gaze glide over all the activity until it snagged on Isabelle and Wren.

They appeared to be out for an evening stroll, looking relaxed next to each other as they walked at a leisurely pace.

Isabelle was so immersed in her conversation with Wren that it took a few minutes before she picked up on my scent.

When she did, her head swung in my direction, and she placed a hand on Wren’s arm to stop him in his tracks.

He followed her gaze, and together, they adjusted their course and began making their way toward the cabin.

Jealousy spiked as I watched them, my brows pinching in a frown.

I wished it was Henry and me walking around the village.

I knew he would have been overjoyed to see the settlement and all its people.

Pushing the unpleasant feeling aside, I willed my frown to smooth out as Isabelle and Wren approached where I was standing.

“Sophie, how are you?” Isabelle asked, her brown eyes fastening on me.

There was genuine concern in her voice, and I almost laughed at how far we’d come. Ever since I’d turned, she’d been tolerant of me at best. Now, she was beginning to treat me more like a sister, everything happening with the clans bringing us closer together.

“I’m okay,” I lied. “How are you?”

My gaze flicked over her features. She looked well in a navy dress with her black curls left down to frame her face.

It seemed the beating she’d taken three nights ago was now a distant memory.

Wren looked well, too, standing next to her.

I quickly appraised the young man. His pale-blue eyes shone, and a healthy pink hue colored his cheeks—Isabelle had been giving him her blood.

It wasn’t the only thing she’d been giving him—I could smell her on him, and him on her, their scents intermingled. My longing for Henry intensified.

“I’m doing okay,” Isabelle said, forcing a smile. It came out more like a grimace and didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m worried about Henry,” she admitted, the corners of her mouth turning down. “How is the magic training going? Will we be able to go after him soon?”

Waylon cast his gaze down at her words, looking as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here for this conversation.

I gritted my teeth at the question. Everyone was waiting on me before we could act. My chest constricted with pressure as the weight on my shoulders became heavier, almost impossible to bear.

“It’s only been three nights.” I repeated the same words I’d said to Waylon. They came out as a hiss, but Isabelle seemed unaffected by my menacing tone.

“Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

Can you speed it up? the question truly meant. She knew there wasn’t anything in their power to help me.

“No, this task lies solely on me. I know that. You know that. Everyone knows that. So why can’t you all just trust that I’m doing the best I can?

I know what’s at stake. It’s my skin stretching tauter over my bones the longer I’m away from Henry.

The desperate desire to put an end to this burns brighter in me than in all of you.

And I will put an end to this, mark my words. ”

Isabelle’s eyes widened at my outburst, the whites strikingly contrasting her rich-brown skin. Wren scowled, placing a hand on her lower back.

“I know, I just… You are not alone in this,” Isabelle said softly, compassion infusing each word.

This new side of her set me on edge. It felt as if we’d switched places because she was demonstrating more humanity at the moment than me.

“I am alone in this,” I told her. “I am alone unless Henry is by my side. And he will be by my side soon. I won’t have it any other way.”

The words sounded like a vow, ringing out in the cool night air as I turned and walked inside the house.