Page 12 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

She was breathless at the thought of his hands on her.

There was a pooling warmth in her cheeks that spread throughout her body at the sensation of his hardening length up her back.

Garin cleared his throat and shifted himself off.

Such a gentleman, despite everything. Lilac resisted the urge to arch into him.

“I picked that guard because I knew he was harmless.”

“We know that .”

She rolled her eyes. “What did you tell him earlier that he was so happy about? Before you entranced him.”

“I only entranced the fear out of him. I told him he wouldn’t be able to protect you from me, at least not with his current armory.

I reminded him that ashwood is irritating to Daemons, but hawthorn is potentially lethal to vampires if it gets close enough to our hearts, and so the arrows he shot at us are no more effective than splinters.

Told him a hawthorn stake is his best bet against vampires”—he clutched the reins tighter against the outsides of her thighs—“and that is only if, by some miracle, he is able to get close enough. That often requires stealth of hand and blade, neither of which he has.”

She considered the mystery of Vivien and Laurent. “He’s new. He hasn’t had the same training as everyone else.”

“Your duke should have taught him in good measure. It’s a shame.”

Gritting her teeth, Lilac held her tongue. She wouldn’t mention it or argue now. Her irritation didn’t last long as they began to slow beneath the shadow of the building. As the path curved widely left, their party finally came upon what lay at the end.

The cobblestone turned into a half circular driveway that wrapped around the front of the inn, simple but large enough to host a five-horse stable on the right of the building.

To their left, an array of clay pots were stacked upon a patch of mismatched bricks.

Beyond that, in the glow of several lanterns containing green spheres of flame, were the makings of a small garden.

All familiar, yet not at all—and the stable and herb garden weren’t the most jarring details.

She moved to dismount the horse, using whatever part of the saddle she could grasp and nearly falling when her foot slipped; Garin, still seated, caught her by the wrist and helped her down. Lilac dusted herself off and made her way to the front.

The window to the right of the door where she’d once attempted to peek in was larger, taller, yet still covered by a maroon curtain, and below was a thick row of mint bushes lined with a thin flower bed of coppers, tangerines, and vibrant yellows. Marigolds.

The door before her was crafted in sun-worn redwood and inky iron; tonight, boisterous music did not float out from an ill-fitting frame, and the only sign read The Fenfoss Inn, Established 1340 .

The building was clean, free of the clumps of moss that had grown on it before, its minimal framework shining as if recently oiled.

The window she’d jumped from to escape Garin was closed.

Nothing was the same as she’d left it, and there was nothing to show of her stay there—except for two broken vines of ivy that hung between the side of the building and a nearby tree.

There were footsteps behind her; when she turned, Lo?g was secured to the stable and Garin was approaching. He handed her the plump travel bag, which she hoisted over one shoulder.

“Are you ready?”

A wicked dread coursed through her. “I’m ready to do what is right and not have Kestrel’s threat hanging over our heads.

” She glared up at his teasing smile, one he probably meant to be encouraging.

“Though, I might have felt more prepared if I hadn’t seen two clearly entranced men drop dead in my Grand Hall today. ”

A flash of humor crossed Garin’s face. Lilac opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a scoff..

“ This is where you work?”

The rest of the party had dismounted the carriage, and Giles and the guard were struggling to push it backward into the stable. With an annoyed glare at Garin, Bastion marched right toward them. His dark cloak swept the cobblestone, tied at the neck by a single rope over his dark tunic.

At the thought of meeting him at the Sanguine Mine and the bruise he’d left on her face, she dug her heels into the floor. She stared coldly at him.

“Bastion.”

The look he gave her was flat, almost bored, as if he were a large cat trained over and over to avoid a piece of meat. He didn’t bother bowing, only relaxing his shoulders a bit and curtly nodding once.

Then he stepped around her and gripped the handle of the inn’s door. The door opened a crack before slamming shut again. “What the devil?”

He tried again, yanked, but even with his strength it did not budge. Dust rained down upon him from the stone and framework, but the door was sealed.

“Careful,” Garin said, mouth twitching as his brother dusted himself off and whirled on them .

“What game are you playing?”

“It seems you don’t have the permission to enter. You must ask.”

“Fuck off,” he growled. “ You invited me here.”

“Yes, but the inn is owned by the Aglovens, not I.”

Bastion sneered and gave Garin a look that said he’d get him for it later. “How do you suppose I ask for permission, then?”

Just then, there was a click , and the window to the right of the door squeaked open with some effort.

Two stunning orange-hazel eyes flicked between the three of them.

A wide grin appeared, then altogether disappeared—only to reappear in the now partially open door.

Although the light of the kitchen and corner hearth glowed dimly through, there were no sounds of merriment or of other inhabitants.

“You’re early!” Lorietta bobbed down, then rose again, her eyes bright but cautious. “Your Majesty, so nice to see you again.”

“It’s an honor to be here.” It was more than an honor. She felt at home.

“May I come in?”

The witch’s gaze fell on the interrupting vampire, and her smile fell slightly. “Garin’s told me all about you.”

“Great things, I’m sure.” Bastion advanced up the shallow step, and the door slammed shut, followed by a surprised yelp from Lorietta.

She opened it again, this time wide enough for them to see that the tavern was empty. Lorietta straightened her apron—light green today, with yellow and pink flowers roughly stitched in. “I haven’t given you my answer.”

Garin was behind them, watching with a bemused expression on his face. Lilac half expected his brother to lose his temper, the way he had so quickly in the Mine. But only Bastion sighed and crossed his arms, defeated.

“Look. I don’t care if I’m not wanted here. Garin was the one who dragged me along to play representative. I’ll gladly leave.”

“Not so fast.”

He was in the process of turning away, but Lorietta stuck a foot before the door, as if stopping it from closing again. “You are wanted here, Bastion. But I only need to warn you, as I do every vampire, that encroaching on unwilling donors is not allowed here. ”

“Oh.” He sounded surprised, as if her stipulation should be obvious. “Fine.”

“Garin has been in and out lately helping our queen, so we had to configure a replacement of sorts, a way to keep all denizens safe from assault or mischief of any kind. This is a newer enchantment we’ve placed on the inn.

After our little guest here broke one of my windows to escape,” she said, eyes flitting to Lilac.

“I managed to turn it into an effective meddler chute.”

Bastion and Lilac exchanged worried glances.

“Whenever Garin takes leave, the inn now has the capability of throwing any thieves, brawlers, or blood snatchers out the second story window of its own accord. Not that Meriam and I lack the means of breaking up fights ourselves, but why not enchant the inn so that our denizens think twice? I’ve not seen it in action yet, but I look forward to the day.

So”—she scowled at Bastion—“don’t tempt it.

” She swung the door wide open. “And with that out of the way, please do come in, Bastion.”

Bastion slowly, carefully made his way into the inn, as if afraid it would throw him out for his personality alone. Lilac was trying to imagine what a meddler chute looked like when the aromas from the kitchen pushed everything else from her mind.

Like a child lured into a witch’s candied cottage, she let the scent of pastry and soup carry her past the threshold into the tavern, to the bar where Lorietta had instructed Bastion to sit.

While the exterior of the inn had changed, the inside was the same, albeit lacking the rowdy crowd and sticky floors.

The door swung shut behind her as she approached the counter. She turned—and Garin was nowhere to be found.

“He’s helping the humans park your carriage.” Lorietta placed a mug of something dark and a clear glass of what looked to be whiskey in front of Bastion before disappearing into the scullery doorway, the curtain of stringed silver beads swinging behind her.

Bastion chuckled to himself. He sniffed at the mug and made a face, then pushed it away, downing the amber contents of the glass in one swig.

“Cold blood,” he said disbelievingly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “Fucking disgusting. I can’t believe my brother drank this for years.”

“We have plenty more liquor, then,” Lorietta called out .

“I prefer mine warm, and I have no problem accessing it.”

“Nonconsensual feeding is not allowed here.” Lilac approached the bar, thinking of Piper and all the others imprisoned at his hands. That was at the top of the list she’d had John jot down during her Accords drafting sessions held in the library over the past week.

Bastion made an irreverent noise into his palm. “Wouldn’t you know?”

“That means you’ll have to convince someone to like you enough first.”

He glowered in her direction, eyes narrowed, before Lorietta’s head popped through the wall of tinkling beads.

“Some help, Your Majesty.”