Page 115 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

“There’s no time. I imagine these soldiers were headed for Rennes with an ambush planned.

Paimpont is next. Then, the chateau—then, the coast. They won’t stop.

We only have enough time as it takes for them to realize their leading frontline have been torn apart.

We don’t have enough bodies to protect the towns, and aid in our preparation. They’ll have to hold their own.”

“Maximilian won’t send his men for us until Lilac is married,” said Barnabaz gruffly. “It’ll take weeks.”

“I know what he will and won’t do. What matters is that she is his husband—the moment it happens, that and that alone should be enough to dissuade him from advancing.

And she will accept his hand if I have the last say.

” There was a brief silence; the afternoon was mild, but Lilac shook as the finality of her father’s affirmation rang through the trees.

“Well? Let’s not stand here and twiddle our thumbs.

We must fortify the castle and alert the others. ”

“And what of the vampire, Your Grace?”

The three of them waited with bated breath as Henri considered.

“He is the least of my concerns,” he finally grunted.

“For all we know, he and his warlock are on their way back to Vienna. I—I don’t know.

” His voice dropped so low, Lilac strained to hear.

“There will be no more public word of Lilac’s marriage, the timing of her ceremony or lack thereof, until the ink is dried on paper and any oath is spoken. Do you understand me? ”

“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.

“Good. Onward.”

Then, they were off.

No one dared speak a word; Lilac’s shoes were soaked in warm blood, and they didn’t move a muscle until the sound of Henri’s and Cadwethen’s voices and the pounding of hooves were heard no longer.

She peeked around the trunk and watched her father and his companion gallop past the distant dip in the hill.

“We have to find him,” Lilac said, picking her way over the corpses, wiping her brow and probably smearing Myrddin’s and the stranger’s blood further. “Garin’s injured.”

“He will heal, as he does from all mortal wounds,” said Myrddin lightly. “Your Majesty, shouldn’t we return to meet your father?”

She glanced over her shoulder, leading them out of the trees. “He needs our help. Something’s not right.”

They emerged, overlooking a vast swath of hilled moor.

The sun would set soon, and while Myrddin’s magic could surely take care of lighting, they had no indication of where Garin was.

According to Henri, they were just outside of Montfort-sur-Meu; Rennes was directly west. Paimpont and the bulk of Brocéliande were just beyond that—a few hours’ travel southward on a galloping steed.

Garin was probably headed back in that direction, but there was no way to be sure. Dread tore at her insides. She’d never felt so lost. With France encroaching, they needed to find him. They needed to move.

“Can we try again? Can you teleport one more time?”

Myrddin gave Lilac a worried grimace. “I can try, but it may not work and it definitely won’t feel good. I haven’t teleported this many times in a day, let alone the week, for a very long time. I’m afraid of throwing us even further off path without ample rest.”

Sniffling, Yanna faced the moor, her hands shielding her eyes from the dying sun. “Is that… Albrecht’s horse?” She frowned. “Garin’s horse?”

Lilac spun. Galloping at them at full speed—surely faster than she’d seen any steed move—was Lo?g. As he neared they exchanged glances; Yanna nervously backed out of the way and Myrddin watched, open-mouthed.

Lo?g slowed to a trot, then came to rest before them .

It looked like an apparition, shrouded in a layer of dark mist floating just above his coat, following him with every movement.

“Mother Modron,” Myrddin cried.

Lo?g dipped his head, bowing before them.

“This is my horse. Garin gifted it to me for my birthday.” Breathless, Lilac couldn’t help but laugh out loud, moisture welling in her eyes.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” she whispered.

Cautiously, she reached a hand up to stroke the steed’s snout; the moment her hand made contact, the dark mist lessened in the fading sunlight.

He was not an apparition, but she was certain, more than anything, that he was magic.

Lo?g remained kneeling, as if encouraging them to mount.

Incredulous, Lilac rounded Lo?g and stepped into the stirrup, lifting herself onto him gracefully. She held a hand down for Yanna, who stood frozen in place, watching the horse warily. “He’s safe. I promise.”

Yanna looked like she didn’t know whether to sob or laugh. She wiped her eyes and turned back to face the field of bodies, hesitant. “He isn’t here. His body isn’t here.”

“He must be safe, then,” Lilac said reassuringly, hoping it was true. “You will be reunited with him. We will find him, but for now, I can’t leave you here. I won’t.”

With one last parting glance, Yanna scowled and crammed her foot in the stirrup while taking Lilac’s hand. She cursed violently under her breath as she made herself comfortable behind her.

“Did you summon him for me, Myrddin?” Lilac asked as Yanna held her hand out to him.

“No, but I think you did.” Myrddin cocked his head and slowly, with his hands out as if to show the creature he was harmless, made his way to the back. “Where did Garin say he got this horse again?”

“He didn’t.”

Myrddin grunted dubiously as he lifted himself with both of their help and settled in behind Yanna.

Mesmerized, Lilac ran her hand along Lo?g’s striking black mane, the strange dark ether rising off of him swirling at her fingertips in the deep afternoon sun. “Where did you come from, and how did you know where to find us? ”

“Whatever it is, it’s tied to you. Do you even know how to steer a horse? Magic, or no?” Myrddin asked.

“I don’t.” Garin must have mentioned it to them. Her heart sank, but adrenaline pulsed through her now. She would either learn or figure out a way. “Do you?”

“Why would I need to learn if I’ve been able to teleport my whole life?”

She ignored him, a glimmer of hope spreading through her as she stroked the horse’s mane and down to the intricately woven and sturdy saddle. There was a thick rope attached to his face.

Yanna sighed loudly. “Take the rein just there. Bunch it loosely in your fists. Just there… good. Now, squeeze him with your legs.”

Lilac did as she was told.

“Harder.”

She did, and nearly lost her balance as Lo?g sped up; Myrddin shrieked and held onto Yanna, who grasped for Lilac’s middle.

“Whoa,” said Yanna, and he eased his pace.

Despite everything, Lilac found herself laughing. She was doing it. Lilac pulled on the reins with her right hand, and Lo?g easily pivoted that way. She tugged left, and he did that, too.

Myrddin let out a disgruntled sound as Lilac steered them in a wide, perfect circle atop the knoll. “Why, you’re a natural. Garin said you’d need childrens’ lessons—how are you doing this?”

“I don’t know,” shouted Lilac. “I feel I could use some practice. He seems a very mild-mannered, if not completely agreeable, horse.”

“For you . Garin could barely pet the thing without it trying to take his fingers off. I think you of all people would appreciate knowing vampires are not regenerative and do not grow back any of their appendages.”

Lo?g snorted, braying as he shook his head back and forth, his regal onyx mane rippling in the wind.

“I wonder…” mused Myrddin as they trotted along in the zig-zag path Lilac drove them into. But he remained quiet, not bothering to tell them what it was he wondered.

“Anyone can ride a horse. It doesn’t mean a thing if we don’t know where we’re going,” said Yanna impatiently .

Myrddin began shuffling inside his pockets. “I could whip up a tracking spell if he just slowed down.”

There was a tug at her navel again—and not an unpleasant one this time. It was subtle, like a tap on the shoulder. Instinct settling her gut. Lilac leaned toward Lo?g’s twitching ears. “Bring us to Garin,” she whispered, straightening when the wind picked up.

Leaves began to skitter along, dancing forward from the treeline. Some of them were splattered in blood.

Lo?g whinnied. Then, they were off.

She screamed and scrambled for the saddle, Yanna and Myrddin cursing and holding on for dear life.

This was the way, back toward Paimpont and the High Forest. She could feel it. Garin had just been there. He was alive and near.

Lo?g’s quick canter turned into a gallop, and all they could do was brace themselves as he took off down the grassy knoll, away from the embers of sun and toward the trees beyond.