Page 11 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

“ Y e of such little faith.” Garin was suddenly behind her. How he had accomplished this when the horse couldn’t stand him, she didn’t know, but every thought fled her mind as his arms brushed her sides, his body molding around hers as he reached around her to grab the reins.

Already several trees down the path, Giles had resumed his excited chatter.

There was much to process, and it proved difficult with Garin at her back and the slow, rhythmic movement of the horse. Lilac was speechless.

“We’ll find you an instructor.” He spoke over her shoulder, inhaling against the curtain of her hair and causing her to shiver.

“ If you need one. Something tells me you’re resourceful in times of need.

Dire times of need, that is. Meanwhile, you have me.

” With a tug on the rein, he diverted them into the entrance, and they fell into a trot several paces behind the carriage.

The guard then followed, closing off their small traveling troupe.

“Has this entrance always been here?”

“Since around the Hundred Years’ War.”

They were surrounded by torches—rows of them on each side, about a carriage length between each.

The orange flames glimmered with the faintest outline of a wicked sort of green.

They reminded her of the bright blue flames that had consumed them on their way to Cinderfell; the magic in them obvious. “Was it warded against humans?”

“By the witches against those not meant to see it.” Garin spoke reverently, as if in awe of what the witches had done. “This entire path from entry to the inn, including some of its exterior, is protected by a second-level ward, and the building itself, a third-level ward.”

As the trees grew denser, some of them bent over the path, creating a protective arch towering over them. Although the flames were much too close to their branches and leaves, they didn’t catch. It all worked together to create quite a charming path.

“You’re not going to ask me about the wards?”

She thought of the ward at the korikaned camp, about how she’d sensed the camp within it before the ward had dissipated entirely. A shift in the saddle pressed her closer against him, and she quickly shifted back. Giles was again talking the mouse issue and his heroic cat.

“Do second-level wards contain sound within their barrier?”

“Impressive. That would be a first-level ward—what the one around the korikaned camp should have done for you. Under a first-level ward, one can still bump into an object that will appear invisible, which is why the subject must be careful, but that is the easiest type of ward for non-magic folk to enact by way of a charmed object, such as Blitzrik’s flint.

A second-level ward not only prevents others from perceiving the spelled area, but also interacting with it, like it did for this path and its entry.

It’s been here for a century or so, and these days only Lorietta’s merchants and other known carriages are allowed to access it. ”

“Lorietta deals with merchants?”

He paused for a moment. “Yes. How do you think she gets her ingredients? Granted, most of the time it’s a fellow witch or two going to market days for her, but she does have them stop in from time to time. They know of the wards and have the charms to undo them.” He patted the tin on his hip.

She absorbed this information, already hungry for more. “And the third-level ward?”

“Patience,” he murmured, resting his wrists against her hips. “You’ll see. Lorietta usually leaves it up to the inn. ”

Lilac turned to look at him, but he nudged her in disapproval. “Up to the inn?”

“Eyes forward. What did the inn look like for you? The outside, I mean.”

She hadn’t had the chance to study the exterior any longer than it took her to decide it would provide her shelter from the storm and the nest of ogres chasing her.

“Quaint.”

“Oh, come now, that’s royalty for ‘shoddy.’”

“No.” She laughed, unable to help herself.

“It's royalty for quaint . To me, that means aged, well cared-for. It has stood the test of time. Cracked limestone walls, partially rotted wooden framing, chipped red-painted door, a sign warning humans against entering.” She shrugged. “Okay, quaint with a side of shoddy.”

Garin grunted, and to her surprise, they fell into silence. She hadn’t meant to offend him—not this time. It was clear he was more than proud of his place of work—and it was more than where he worked, she reminded herself. The Fenfoss Inn was his home.

“The third-level ward,” she reminded him softly.

“That one imbues the inn with a protective discernment charm. Not everyone can do this; it’s part of Lorietta’s and Meriam’s ancestral magic.

I’m surprised the inn even showed up for you, if I’m honest, given your family’s history.

Like with the second-level ward, it can also disappear if needed, and it’s been known on occasion to change hats every now and then, depending on what travelers need. Their heart and intention.”

“What does that mean?”

“Sometimes it’s invisible, undetectable to whoever comes across it. Sometimes it appears as you’ve described it. And sometimes, she reveals herself wholly. Very rarely. Who knows what you’ll see this time?”

It explained why she’d never known about an inn an hour east of her castle or why her parents had never warned her of it. “The night we met, Lorietta had said something about humans occasionally stumbling across it in their travels.”

“It shows up for those in need. They are extremely hospitable people, Lori and Meriam—believe it or not. Wanderers in need of a drink, food, or safety can find it on occasion. There had to be some protection from humans like your ex-betrothed and his band of idiots.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, chewing on the bitterness of a scathing reply, and decided against it instead.

“The ability to create them that well is rare. Lori and Meriam come from a rather gifted family of magic folk trained in Alteration. The School of Alteration, I should say. Emrys is always quick to correct me on proper terminologies. Speaking of, I do hope he is on time tonight. He’s our warlock representative for the meeting, but he hasn’t been to the inn in almost a week.

It’s not unlike him to disappear for a couple days, but he hasn’t stayed out like this in ages… ”

Lilac jerked back, unable to focus on his Emrys tangent. “Schools? Isn’t magic inherited?”

“The predisposition for magic is inherited, but there are several subclasses of magic where certain skills can be honed. Five main branches of arcana. Alteration… Illusion. Those are the two I know of.”

“Wouldn’t a ward be an illusion?”

“Not these types of wards.” Although he’d forbade her from taking her eyes off the road, she heard a smile in his voice.

He enjoyed talking magic arcana with her.

“At their core, they are all perimeter enchantments that alter the space within them. Some creatures and humans cannot interact with the inn or path at all.” His voice grew rough, and he lowered it.

“The duke’s hunting troupe, for example. Anyone who poses a danger.”

She thought of Kestrel and the Fair Folk.

They were indeed dangerous, seemingly to all.

Warding it against them would probably cause more trouble than it was worth.

It reminded her of when she was young—the entire castle scrambling, her mother bitching at her father—all because he’d invited Francois over for an early supper.

The king of France, two council members, and a portion of his guard had then sat in their Grand Hall.

She didn’t think they went over the terms of anything, no treaty or decree signed; it was just tea and a five course meal.

Lilac barely recalled being shown to him, bowing with her mother, then being ushered back into her room to play with Piper.

It was perhaps wise to keep one’s enemies, or allies suspected to live under a pretense, close. “What would they see if they came here?”

“Nothing. To them, all that fills this space is more of Brocéliande. They’ll walk right through it.

Most of our human customers are people who never expect to find an inn in the middle of the woods or who aren’t hunting Daemons.

They merely seek a reprieve from the weather or the law.

The ones that find us don’t want us dead. Or even to bother us.”

“The Fenfoss Inn found me,” she remarked quietly. “It found me when I was running from everything.”

“You weren’t running. You were desperate for change, for solace. And you made it so. That’s probably why the Inn showed itself to you. Either that, or it didn’t consider you enough of a threat.”

Feeling overwhelmed, Lilac looked up, letting her head fall back.

Much of the remaining natural light of dusk was blocked by the archway of greenery above, but the torches and a warm light ahead provided more than enough illumination.

Past the carriage and the guard, the dim silhouette of the two-story building came into view.

Ahead, Giles’s excited shouting had finally settled, and the guard could be heard conversing back.

“You told me you’d come alone.”

Something in Garin’s words made her hair stand on end. “In what world would I ever be allowed to do that? Henri insisted I bring someone.”

“I’m glad you took his advice. You’re thinking of your safety.

You should always have a means of protection—myself, or a guard at least—before you’ve learned to defend yourself.

” Before she could ask, he scoffed, and there was an edge to it.

“It’s important you know how if you’re going to be with someone like me. ”