The Companion (18+)

39. Reality

"How long has she been like this?" Oliver asked in a whisper, standing in the doorway. Étienne was by his side, watching as Amelie fussed around his companion.

"Two days now," he responded, sighing as Aurélie ignored the maid, still blankly staring ahead of herself in silence. She was sitting in an armchair by the window, not responding to anyone. She allowed Amelie and Étienne to help dress and undress her, yet did not speak a single word to either of them. Eloise was curled up in her lap, purring softly. The cat, it seemed, was the only one that was allowed to be near her for long periods of time.

"How on earth did you break the news to her in such a way that she has gone into complete shock?"

Étienne shot Oliver a look that held a thousand daggers. "Next time I will get you to tell her the truth about where she comes from."

Oliver scoffed and shook his head. "No thank you. Not if it is met with such a reaction."

Both men straightened themselves up as Amelie approached them.

I do not know what to do.

"That makes three of us," Étienne said in a low voice.

She just sits there all day, not reacting to anything or anyone.

"I know."

So now what?

"I guess we wait," Étienne responded, folding his arms. "She has gone through too much lately. Give her some time."

Amelie merely nodded, looking back at Aurélie. The companion was absentmindedly stroking Eloise, who was now purring loudly.

While Aurélie seemed quiet on the outside, her mind was far from it. Thoughts endlessly swirled in her head as she recalled growing up at Dubois. She felt angry that Eleanor never bothered to tell her about her heritage. Even if she had not turned, Aurélie felt like she had the right to have at least known who her parents were. Images of a woman showing up at the Saint-Clair estate mangled and bloody in a cart did not leave her mind. The woman in her mind, her mother, often replaced with the men that Aurélie had attacked. Would they have been carted off in a similar way? Never reunited with their families again? Would their families come looking for her, trying to figure out the truth?

A glass was placed in Aurélie's hand.

Then there were the letters between her mother and Étienne's mother. How long had they been friends? How long had Étienne and the Duke known about who she really was? She had trusted those within the estate. Were there more letters? She did not want to believe what had been written between her mother and Brielle. She wanted to erase the birth certificate and long letter proving who she really was. But there was too much proof. Too much to show that she truly was the daughter of the former King.

"Mon ange?"

The letters, birth certificate and Eleanor's statement. Then there was the dagger.

The dagger. She had never told Étienne about it.

Aurélie turned her head, coming to face with Étienne, who was kneeling beside her. She blinked a couple of times, looking around the room. It was the middle of the night. Someone must have lit the fireplace in her room. She looked down at her hand, noticing Étienne's hand cupping hers. When did she start holding a glass?

Confused, she looked from the glass to Étienne.

"You must drink. Your eyes are black as the night sky," he whispered to her.

Aurélie switched her gaze from him down to the glass she was holding, the red liquid inside swirling around. The smell overwhelmed her and she did not hesitate as she gulped down the contents. The familiar knot inside her stomach subsided.