Page 133 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

The door swung open. Isabel took one look at the scene before them—Yanna, covered in blood and bite marks, Rupert’s satisfied, heavy gulping from a finally surrendered Kemble in the corner, and Garin, bloodied, shirtless, and sprawled on his side, his hands bound at his front by thick rope and chains.

Her handmaiden uttered a squeak of terror and turned to leave, but Lilac grabbed her arm and tugged her back in, slamming the door. “See? Yanna is fine.”

“Define ‘ fine ,’” Yanna snapped.

“You’ll heal her, Isabel.” Lilac pointed at the askew apothecary shelves, shockingly calm as she gave orders. “Feel free to help yourself to Kemble’s supply, since it doesn’t look like she’ll be needing that any longer. Yanna’s lost a bit of blood, too.”

Myrddin helped Lilac hoist Garin to his feet. Garin winced, avoiding their gazes, but he didn’t resist.

Isabel fell silent, looking like she’d be sick as she clutched her pochette.

“Yanna will explain,” Lilac said softly, offering the kindest smile she could muster. She began plucking supplies from the cart that had been shoved against the wall, bundling them into a linen cloth and tucking it in the crook of her arm.

Yanna’s glare bore into the side of her skull.“How much do I explain?”

“As much as you want.”

Isabel kept her eyes on Garin as she sidled over to her sister. “What happened to him?”

Garin’s head hung low, but she could tell he was coherent. Centered, at least in the moment. He was completely still, despite the prominent veins in his arms .

His wrists and hands had broken out in a violent rash against the hawthorn rope.

Yanna drove an elbow into Isabel’s side. “He was shot. Isn’t it obvious?”

She knew it wasn’t what Isabel had meant. Lilac slipped her free hand under Garin’s arm and led Garin toward the door. “He’s injured, and I’m going help him.”

Yanna made a noise of warning protest. “But where do you think you’re going?”

“To my bedchamber. I’m going to extract the bullets.” There was no reaction from Garin but a slow blink at the floor. “My father will return with his men soon, and the castle will be in disarray after what they’ve witnessed.”

“You don’t want to do it here?”

“No,” said Myrddin sternly. “You wouldn’t want that.”

Yanna immediately grew red and swallowed whatever her rebuttal was going to be.

“Won’t it be dangerous?” Rupert had placed Kemble’s body down next to the hearth and covered it halfway with a spare blanket from the shelf. He was in the middle of cleaning his mouth with a damp towel when he noticed Isabel and bowed. “I mean, dangerous for you?”

“Are you going to do it, then?”

Rupert said nothing more.

“Wait.” Myrddin stopped and snapped his fingers. Another bundle of thick leather and metal appeared before them, this one smaller—the chains, also thinner. He plucked it from the air and pressed it into Lilac’s arms.

There were several pieces—three, from the looks of it.

Two identical types of chains, and the third…

The leather strap on this restraint was doubly thick.

Wide, too. She frowned, alarmed, turning it this way and it this way and that.

There was a piece of leather about the size of her hand, supported by belts on either side, and a round linen pouch sewn onto one of the surfaces.

She looked up, wide-eyed at Myrddin. She shoved it back at him, vehemently shaking her head.

“Come, Rupert,” Myrddin sighed, beckoning the fledgling .

He did as he was told. Still, Garin did not flinch, nor fight, nor seethe when Rupert stood by him, taking him by the arm as Myrddin got to work.

Myrddin held the wide piece of leather and its pouch toward Garin’s face. Garin’s nostrils flared when the pouch neared; he gagged, but Myrddin prodded him in the shoulder. “This is for her,” he said quietly. “Open up.”

To her shock, he obeyed. Myrddin hurriedly began working the chain at the back of his head.

She forced herself to look; her gaze stilled upon the contraption that framed his somber eyes. “A muzzle?” She turned to Myrddin, an inexplicable rage turning her breaths shallow. “What is wrong with you? He needs my help, not more restraint.”

“Oh, but he does.” The warlock clicked the last of the three chains together.

The leather covering Garin’s face wrapped around his chiseled cheekbones and cupped under his chin, and she couldn’t help but think it would only provoke him further.

Myrddin pointed at Garin’s covered mouth.

“To prevent him from biting. There’s a sack of hawthorn powder propping his mouth open, so if he tries, he’ll choke on that first and knock himself unconscious for a few days.

Of course, we can’t have that.” He held up the pair of thinner chains.

Each had a padlock attached to the end. “Self-binding restraints.” He looked at them and frowned—then sighed roughly.

Myrddin quickly closed his eyes and began to mutter under his breath, drawing shapes in the air.

Another puff of smoke, and there were more in his hand. “There you go. Four more, six total.”

“Where are you finding these? Conjuring them from?”

“From my room at the inn. Illusion, of course, is my specialty, but I’m good enough to Conjure from locations within close proximity, or my personal belongings.

It’s just a matter of being able to visualize the item.

” He handed the bundle of chains to Lilac.

“Throw them or place them. They’ll work on their intended target.

They’ll also fortify the object they’re bound to, to a limit. ”

She’d be sick. Boils had broken out across Garin’s forearms, his hands curled into fists against the persisting pain, like they had been at Sinclair’s camp. Surely his own talons were bleeding him further. Daemons weren’t meant to be restrained, not like this. “This is unnecessary and cruel.”

“Cruelty would be allowing his hunger to overwhelm him when he’s drowning in it,” Myrddin warned. “He will thank you later. Use them. They’ll at least hold him as long as he’s under the effects of my blood.”

Jaw clenched, she snatched them from him. “How long do I have?”

“I never stuck around long enough to know. Best not find out.” He last handed her a rusted key. “Keep him bound until after the last of the ammunition is removed. I’ll be here. I need my rest if I am to come to your aid.”

“I need you to alert Riou and John about the carnage we’ve witnessed.

Piper and Bastion will be arriving soon—they are both to be allowed inside.

And we should call for the guards to prepare.

” What little guards were left, anyway. Most of them were slain because she and her father both had failed them; while there were boxes and boxes of stolen hawthorn weaponry she and Yanna had discovered in Artus’s carriage at the farmhouse—from stakes, to blades, to arrows—her own men were grossly underprepared in comparison with France’s developing armory.

“I’ll do it,” Rupert offered.

Myrddin spared him a skeptical glance. “Do you feel better, Sir Rupert?”

He reddened. “I do.”

“Good. Your kind does no one any favors by being martyrs when it comes to the appetite.” Myrddin’s eyes darted to Lilac. “You’ll first aid Her Majesty and Sir Garin to her tower. Then, you’ll secure the castle and stand watch. Her decree will protect you.”

Rupert’s chest inflated before Lilac added, “Be mindful of the sunrise. You’re allowed to be here, by the way. You belong among us.”

Myrddin took her hand. Garin said nothing.

“Assuming that was the first wave of Francois’s men, it will take them hours to dispatch more of them.

If Garin killed them all, there were no scouts to immediately report back to Francois’s leaders.

You have time; I will make sure of it. Do you understand? ”

In answer, Lilac shifted her supplies to one arm, taking Garin’s in the other. She glanced up at Rupert. “Make sure the coast is clear for us.”

“Wait.” Yanna trudged over, dragging Isabel with her. “Wait. We’re coming.”

“No.” Isabel dug her heels into the floor, shrinking away from Garin. “We can’t.”

“We must help. You would do it for me, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes, but?—”

“Then you’ll do it for her.”