Page 108 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)
“It was,” he said scathingly. “Worst of all, I couldn’t access any of my things .
I store most of my valuables and attire within a large trunk, which now sits in my room at The Fenfoss Inn.
I couldn’t access the depths of it while in my aged state, as it refused to allow me access.
I never offered Garin the amulet because I could never get to it—until the day I was able to turn myself back with the enchantment stripping spell imbued in that arrow. ”
“Perhaps the Guài could have helped you, had you not stolen their amulet in the first place.”
Unmoved, Bastion pouted from his chair. “If there’s only one amulet in the world at a time, how is she doing that ?”
Across the table, Piper’s murderous glare never left Bastion, her eyes backlit by the window’s golden light.
“No one seems to know,” said Lilac, rubbing her temples. “Seeing as there’s only one amulet, consider yourself fortunate. I’d have ripped it off your throat to give it to her.”
“Just in case another squabble breaks out,” Myrddin said, chuckling nervously.
He raised his finger; there was a pop , another cloud of vapors, and a flash in the corner of the room.
The door to the library glowed violet just as the closet knob downstairs had.
“As I was saying,” he continued, starting to pace the length of the table, “the Veiled Garnet is an amulet I procured from the Guài twenty years ago for the College of Restoration at the Ambleside Sanctum in Douarnenez. An extension of the Ambleside Academy up in Brest,” he explained with a nod at Lilac and Piper.
Lilac had heard the Sanctum mentioned before. By Lorietta or Adelaide, she was sure. “Are mortals aware of these institutions?”
“Select few. Those who can be trusted to do clandestine business with magic folk. The majority are unaware, thanks to College of Illusion out of the larger institutions in St. Malo and Mont Saint-Michel. When all else fails, memory erasing spells help.” Myrddin pivoted and threw a pensive smile in her direction.
“Like the one you cast on Lilac?” Piper’s eyes bore into the back of the warlock’s skull.
He whirled on her. “Precisely, though no magic comes without cost and it will never be done upon her again—Garin’s made sure of that.
” Myrddin turned back to Lilac and Bastion.
“The Sanctum is smaller, reserved for novice magic users and mages; there are mostly studies and arcanists’ rooms, sleeping quarters, and a dining hall.
A forge and the rotunda housing their library.
I held a position there after centuries of serving on several kings’ courts.
I retired as their lecturer shortly after I obtained the Veiled Garnet for the School of Restoration at the Sanctum.
I uh… it was more useful in my own hands. ”
“Adelaide said they come through every third century to sell their wares, and that their last visit here was in 1340,” said Lilac. “How did you steal it from them twenty years ago?”
“Indeed, 1340 was their last market pilgrimage through Brocéliande. Fateful day.” Myrddin placed a finger on his pursed lips.
“As for that amulet, I obtained it in the summer of 1512 when they’d arrived by special request of the School of Restoration at the Ambleside Sanctum.
” He hummed, counting on his fingers. “They were also here at the end of our War of Succession, in the spring of 1365. The Hundred Years’ War still raged elsewhere in Europe, but the Guài were witnessed on the edge of the Low Forest surveying our damages after the fires. ”
“They’re business people, first and foremost.” Everyone slowly turned to Bastion, whose hooded hazel-green eyes remained fixed on the window—on the sunlight pouring in.
His head was tilted up slightly, allowing his pale, freckled face to absorb as much warmth as remotely possible.
“A few centuries ago, Guài caravans were dispersed widely over Asia and the north, travelling frequently and selling various arcane goods.”
Bastion had been alive— human —the same time Garin was. He’d also been recruited and fought alongside him under Alor’s command, just under two hundred years ago. Lilac found this particularly fascinating, glancing at the Histories section across the table. “The Guài traded on the Silk Road.”
“I thought that was obvious,” muttered Myrddin under his breath.
“Alongside my family.” Bastion shifted forward, leaning against the table.
“Black powder, parchment, and silk. My brother and I spent months at a time travelling with them. I was thirteen when my father suggested expanding business to Europe after an unforgivingly harsh winter. They searched for a caravan willing to take our products with them for a portion of the profit. The Guài , who regularly purchased powder from us, were quick to offer. My mother was hesitant to trust them with our earnings, so the Guài countered with an offer for us to travel with them. They restored our cart and generously stored our goods in their carriage—which, by the way, was far more spacious on the inside than it appeared.” Bastion scraped his teeth along his bottom lip, deep in thought.
“We then departed for Rome from Xi’an. ”
Xi’an . Lilac knew it well. A powerful capital and trading city in its own right. “China to Rome, then back. That must have taken years.”
“Not with their flying oxen.” Bastion smirked at the incredulity written on their faces, but his smile quickly faded.
“I never made it back. I was thirteen when we left. Fourteen by the time we were caught in a severe storm traveling through the desert. The rain was relentless. We couldn’t exactly stop; there were many others trying to clear the mountain pass.
My parents made me jump into the Guài carriage.
They were about to pass my brother over and secure our valuables to join us so we could all take flight, but Georgie was scared.
My father tried to chase him around our cart, and—” He looked as if he’d continue after taking a shuddering breath, but with a little shake of his head, said, “The Guài will travel extensively, east to west, every three hundred years. But they’ll make exceptions outside their market schedule for various reasons.
Various customers, or collaborative journeys. ”
Something—a creeping feeling—tugged at Lilac’s subconscious. Nagging at her.
“Bastion has tried shaking the chest,” Myrddin commented. “There doesn’t seem to be anything in it.” He frowned and craned his head at Bastion, who was sniffling and wiping his eyes. “Are you all right?”
“I could do with a throat to sink my teeth into, but seeing as the only eligible one in this room has enthralled itself to Garin, I’ll pass.”
“I’ll rip that thing off your neck before Garin lays a finger on you,” said Piper.
Lilac shot a warning look at Piper and turned to Bastion. “I assume Myrddin filled you in on last night’s incident?”
“He did.” Bastion’s scowl returned as he wiped the drying blood off his chin, the scratch wounds from Piper already gone. “Intentional, from the sound of it.”
Myrddin made a sound of disagreement. “I told you, it was toadstool-infused wine. People create that at home. If someone wanted to poison or harm Her Majesty, or anyone else in this castle, they could’ve done much worse.
Would have done much worse. Even without magic, there’s Belladonna, Water Hemlock.
Various natural poisons… the list goes on. ”
“Yes, but one can do much more with mild poisons if the goal isn’t murder. You could aim to make someone sick to make a point. Or create a diversion.” Bastion’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Have you considered Kestrel? Not like he’s particularly fond of any of us.”
“I doubt it,” said Lilac. “Kestrel is loud with his deliveries. He loves his letters and bouquets. He sent a revenant in my envelope, remember? He would’ve used any of the fae-rooted flora at his disposal.”
Bastion quieted then, his eyes widening—perhaps in surprise at the mention of Garin’s research. Lost in thought, Myrddin silently fiddled with his mustache.
“Speaking of, Garin said you’d look into what to do about the chest today.”
“Kestrel hasn’t responded to our letters noting his chest’s retrieval, or those proposing us getting it to him,” interjected Bastion. “The hawthorn trees are empty, void of response. We’ve sent several letters. From two separate locations.”
“Several, as in how many?” Lilac asked.
Bastion and Myrddin exchanged glances. “Once after the chest was obtained, and twice daily since the morning Garin sent you home. Before dawn, and once after nightfall,” answered Myrddin. “The letters are going through the hawthorn channel. We just aren’t receiving any responses.”
Piper uncrossed her arms. “Is there any way the letters might be getting intercepted?”
“No,” said Myrddin. “The faerie channels are tightly protected by their unique portal magic.”
“Is portal magic the same thing as interdimensional magic?” asked Lilac.
Myrddin cast another surprised glance Lilac’s way.
“Yes. One of the most complex capabilities in Alteration, nearly impossible to manipulate or interfere with. Dangerous when practiced at a whim, or by someone inexperienced. The witches have double checked the trees on our end. They’re healthy and secure.
” The warlock tapped his chin. “Either end of the channel can be destroyed, a tree cut down or burned, rendering the other side useless. But if that happened, we’d know, because our letters wouldn’t have gone through at all. ”
A sense of unease coiled itself around Lilac’s throat. She wondered if the lack of correspondence was unusual for the faerie king or not. “Maybe he’s busy. He did send a revenant to deliver his request.”
None of them said anything. Piper bit at her nails .
“Then you will deliver it,” she directed at Bastion.
It was like Lilac had slapped the perpetual scowl from his face. “To Cindefell?”
“To Cinderfell.”