Page 83 of Monsters in Love

“Dunno.” Emmi shrugged. “Maybe the demons that dwell beneath the Chastry snuck into Mama’s bed one night? It would explain my love of sweetbreads and sugared frosting.” She grinned mischievously. “But we both know I’m your sister and I say all the things you think.”

Smothering a laugh, Belle wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “I pray it’s not so.”

Dimples flashed in her sister’s cheeks. “And yet I adore frosting.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Tugging on her cloak, Isabelle gave her sister a stern look.

Even as a baby, Emmi had always been full of spirit. Her sister had been too young to be as affected by their father’s disappearance, and Isabelle had done what she could to fill the space left behind. But it seemed the more their mother turned to the Chastry, the more Emmi rebelled.

A dangerous practice. Especially in these fallen times, where every week carried fresh tales of demons snatching people from their beds.

She might not believe everything the Chastry claimed, but the demons were real.

The monsters had claimed too many of their neighbors, she wouldn’t let them take her sister.

She cupped her younger sister’s face. “I will go see Thomas if you promise to behave. I mean it.” She kissed Emmi’s forehead. “Mama will ban you from the ball if you don’t, and I refuse to go without you.”

Emmi let out a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. I’ll be good and make boring rolls.”

“Thanks be.” Isabelle grinned and slipped out the door.

Drawing in a deep breath, she let the crisp morning air wash over her. Gods, it had been too long since she’d enjoyed a day away from the kitchen.

Unable to keep a smile from her lips, she hurried onto the cobbled streets and headed for the stone arch that marked the edge of town. The sun had barely risen above the mountain tops and the night torches were still lit, and yet she knew Thomas would already be in the fields. Today might mark a festival, but to reach that celebration required a lot of their farmers.

A chill wind whipped along the street, tugging on her cloak, and she held the sides closed. The lanterns framing the street sputtered out and the ground trembled beneath her feet.

The demons returning to their lairs, her mother would say.

Or reminding us they’re hungry.

Isabelle pulled her cloak tighter and walked faster, trying to ignore the sensation of creatures scratching and crawling beneath the road. The bishop claimed the demons couldn’t pass beyond the Chastry, yet she’d swear they’d spread beneath all the streets. No one wanted to be caught on the streets in the dark, because the demons came out at night. That’s why the lanterns were lit at twilight and only extinguished at dawn—and why every person in Windhaven was told to stay inside despite the lanterns.

Passing underneath the arch, she searched the fields for Thomas. An easy enough task, given most of the grains had been cut and he stood tall in the distance.

Shoulders broad enough to belong to a fabled minotaur.

Arms heavily muscled from plowing fields.

His physique rivaled any member of the city guard, and she’d swear he could have sat in place of any of the statues of the golden age’s great kings that once sat in the town square. Yet it was his ready smile that had her running the final stretch and throwing herself into his arms.

“My Belle!” He spun her around as if she weighed no more than a feather. “You got away.”

“Of course.” She wrinkled her nose at him. “You expected otherwise?”

He lifted his brows, brown eyes twinkling with warmth. “Perhaps.”

“Wretch.” With a laugh, she kissed his nose. “I missed you. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to get away—Mama has been… Well, you know. But today, we have the whole day together. And later at the ball we will…”

Her words faded as she realized it had been a long time since they’d been alone together—her certainty might be misplaced. Thomas had never promised her marriage. Was he even planning to announce their union at the ball? He was older than her by a handful of years, and handsome enough to give the sun pause. There had to be more than one lady seeking his affections—ladies who’d already reached their majority.

“Belle?” His head tilted and a lock of sun-kissed brown hair fell in front of an eye.

Stomach twisting, she bit her lip and whispered, “Tonight is the ball.”

“So I’ve heard.” He pushed his hair out of his face and rolled his shoulders. “I was thinking I might not go.”

Not go?

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