Page 113 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

Her kingdom’s most frequented ports were out of the northern towns.

She supposed popular trading routes shifted every year; nothing about that was out of the ordinary.

There could be some out west with the changing seasons, perhaps out of Brest or one of the bays.

But warmer weather afforded a diversity of trade routes north this particular time of year, didn’t it?

The reduced risk of sea ice at the docks made for optimal conditions.

And really, none of that mattered for someone ordering a wardrobe overhaul of enchanted garments from the Hemlock Haberdashery.

The order must’ve been extensive if Herlinde was willing to hand all her premade pieces to her friends and Marguerite, and accept nothing in exchange for a custom made wedding gown.

Likely, they were a private client hiring a contracted maritime merchant.

And what other naval trader not sanctioned by her or her father would boast various kinds of tender? Paper money was rare, a foreign commodity of distant kingdoms.

Lilac stared at Herlinde, then her trunk of a husband, several things clicking into place at once.

“Very well. No time shall be wasted.” Herlinde returned Lilac’s look with a friendly smile and craned her head. “Do you have anyone who could take these up for you?”

“We will.” They turned to see Yanna and Isabel emerging from the western corridor. Their hair escaped their buns in frazzled tendrils, their faces bright pink from the sun. “Her Grace sent us in to see if you needed help.”

“We have heard so much about you,” added Isabel before Yanna elbowed her.

“Ah, some of Madame Toranaga’s friends!” Herlinde’s eyes brightened. “I recognize you.”

They both smiled and curtsied.

“Have you seen Sir Albrecht?” Lilac blurted. “Outside, anywhere?”

Isabel shook her head. “We’ve only been in the courtyard assisting the others with a game of cricket.”

Herlinde poked Ozzie, who then handed the bundle and dress to Yanna. “Yes, where is this emissary, Your Majesty?”

“Now that you mention it,” Yanna added, “I haven’t seen him all day. Not since this morning, when he left with that horrid Agnes. They were searching for Ambrosius, weren’t they?”

“Agnes the Baroness?” Herlinde eyed Lilac sidelong. “Where would they have gone off to?”

Isabel’s fingers went to her mouth. “You don’t think they’ve?—”

A loud bang startled everyone, causing them to jump. It sounded like it came from the rear of the keep, near the northern wing. The guard at the door started forward, but Lilac beat him to it.

“Stay,” Lilac commanded, leaving Yanna clutching her wedding gown, Isabel clutching Yanna—and a rightly concerned-looking Herline and Ozzie frozen in place. “All of you.”

Without explanation, Lilac took off. There was something wrong, she could feel it. Because she couldn’t feel him , his closeness—his pulsing proximity she’d grown used to. In his confirmed absence, the dread in her chest had only worsened.

There were shouting and footsteps, then; Yanna was there, panting, Isabel close behind and glancing nervously back at the foyer. Herlinde could be heard speaking urgently, presumedly to Ozzie or the guard—or the several members of her staff probably roused from a mid-morning nap.

“I told you to stay,” Lilac said hurriedly.

“What are you going to do, fire us?” Yanna peered at the doors in scrutiny. “What was that sound?”

Nothing seemed out of place in the corridor—save for the person-sized hole leading to the armory—until one of the guest quarters on the left burst open. Myrddin stumbled out, a thick trail of smoke billowing behind him.

He looked startled to see her, his hair flat against his head and his robe hanging half off, as if he’d been in a wind tunnel. “Your Majesty, thank goodness, you?—”

Lilac shoved him back into the room; she hadn’t meant to do it that hard, but his body flew several feet into the air before landing near the hearth.

“ Lilac ,” Yanna shrieked, trailing her into the double guest bed chamber. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Vampires,” Myrddin wheezed, clutching his chest. “Specifically, a volatile one that transferred some of his power to her the moment she enthralled herself to him.”

Yanna’s disgusted gasp was lost to the distant, echoing sound of Marguerite’s and her friends’ laughter.

Lilac leaped forward, pouncing upon Myrddin before he could sit up again.

“I need your help,” she begged, the front of his robes in her fists as she turned back to the bewildered sisters.

“Leave. Lie for me. Tell them that all is well and Garin’s been in his chamber recovering the whole time, that we’re tending to him. ”

“ Garin ?” Yanna said, refusing to move. “What is a Garin? ”

Isabel remained in the hall, terror stricken upon her face; the voices grew louder, Herlinde’s blending in with the rest.

Lilac cursed herself. “Albrecht, I meant to say. Sir Albrecht. Please, do this for me.”

Yanna stomped toward the door and shoved the bundle and dress into Isabel’s arms. “Go. Now, Izzy.”

Isabel blanched but nodded, departing with an uneasy glance.

Then, Yanna shut the door, sliding the lock in place and slowly pacing to the opposite side of the room. She didn’t say anything else, didn’t prod further, but it was painstakingly clear she would not leave.

The room was simple, similar to the handmaidens’ quarters but more spacious; it consisted of a hearth in the center wall, and simple wooden beds against the far left and right sides of the room, storage trunks at the foot of each.

Garin’s bed on the right was made, but the blankets were slightly dented in the center, as if he’d laid there contemplating without the intention of sleep.

Myrddin’s was a mess of covers, a pillow hanging halfway off the bed. There was a garment on the floor that caught her eye, crumpled beneath his own velvet cloak hanging on the end post. Lilac wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but she recognized the red blazer from last night.

“ Rupert ?” She hadn’t noticed Myrddin had shimmied from her grasp.

He turned the color of the coat. “The night was stressful. It was a one-time thing,” the warlock stammered. “You don’t… you don’t fancy him, do you?”

“No, of course not.”

“If you did, Garin would have his way with him, anyway,” he said, seeming eager to steer from the topic of him and Rupert. “Especially with how this bond has changed him.”

“Where is he?”

In answer, the warlock’s eyes flitted over her shoulder to Yanna. “Your servant, Your Majesty.”

“My name is Yanna,” her handmaiden snapped, tromping over. “And you should answer Her Majesty.”

“Leave,” Lilac said, whirling on her. “I don’t need your help.”

“It looks like you do. You’re interrogating Albrecht’s valet. You threw him across the room.” Yanna sneered at both of them, her panicked countenance still so lethal that Myrddin flinched. “ Who is Garin ?”

“He’s the leader of the Brocéliande vampire coven, to whom your queen enthralled herself just nights ago. He is also your emissary.” Myrddin pressed a hand to his chest. “And I am Myrddin. Still a warlock—a warlock and sorcerer, technically.”

Whatever answer Yanna had anticipated, this didn’t seem to be it. Her hands shot to her face, anger more than shock flitting across it.

There was a pop and overwhelming aroma of black powder, especially pungent this time—the outline of the door burning bright violet before fading. “ Just in case ,” muttered Myrddin.

Yanna’s voice was scarily quiet. “Was there ever a proposition from Maximilian? Was my Gwendal always doomed?”

“Yes, there was an emissary sent from Vienna to proposition me.” Lilac reluctantly faced her, fuming and guilt-ridden.

“The truth is, Gwendal was doomed the moment he decided to join the guard of an incompetent king and his corrupt men. It will remain so unless I am allowed to intervene. Otherwise, they all volunteered for their certain deaths.” The room was silent, the castle outside eerily still. “Do you feel better knowing the truth?”

Yanna swallowed, her eyes brimming with moisture. “I-if Garin is acting as emissary, then where is the man Maximilian sent?”

“I—”

Myrddin chuckled, motioning vaguely. “At the bottom of the Argent River, the meat picked off his bones by now.”

Slowly, Lilac turned to him, eyes wild. Whether he was serious was anyone’s guess; she didn’t put anything past Garin at this point.

The warlock shrugged, but Lilac gripped him by the robes and slammed him against the wall beside the fireplace. “ Where is he ? Garin, where is he?” Her hand found his throat.

“I don’t know!” Myrddin gargled.

Lilac slipped her dagger from her skirts. “Tell me.”

Yanna let out a disgraceful sound of protest, rushing over to them. “You’re crazy, let him go?—”

“Where?” Lilac snarled, pressing the flat edge to his throat .

“I came to tell you,” Myrddin hissed, “that he wasn’t outside. I couldn’t— find—him .”

“Then you’ll bring me to him.” She angled the blade, nicking his collarbone and drawing blood.

His lake blue eyes bulged in fear. “You know I’m immortal. I come back, every time.”

Lilac brought her lips to his ear. “It’ll take you a while if I slit you at the middle and start roasting your innards over that fire.”

“Fair.” Myrddin gulped and spoke hurriedly. “I brought Bastion and Piper to the edge of the path, watched them disappear into the treeline. I had a look in the bailey then, and couldn’t find him. Cast a quick tracking spell and my Lacewing tugged me east. But I can’t teleport?—”

Lilac plucked the blade from Myrddin before sinking it into his neck, warmth spreading across her fingers; as she withdrew the dagger and stepped back, some of the blood splattered her chest and chin.

“ Fuck this ,” Yanna screeched, and there was the jiggling sound of the doorknob being strangled. “Help me! Let me out!”