Page 18 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

Lilac staggered to her feet. “That’s all?” The simplicity of the request made her feel suspicious. She stared into those bottomless sockets, willing him to hear her and finding it difficult to read his responses without the faerie king’s ethereal and expressive face.

The guard swayed, knees trembling, as if Kestrel’s connection was faltering. “That is all.”

“How can we deliver it to you? Will you meet me here?” A low warning growl radiated from Garin at her invitation. “Do we bring it to Cinderfell? I can…”

But Hywell’s body began to shudder, and she trailed off. He remained standing, but his head lolled to the side, his body starting to sway like a branch in the wind. Kestrel’s energy was gone.

Lilac spun on her heel, eager to get away from the corpse, and the blur of the room dissolved. Garin, Bastion, and Lorietta appeared around her, while everyone else was spread between the bar and stairwell, their faces wrenched in horror.

A firm hand grabbed hold of her wrist, and she looked back to find the lanky guard behind her, the blue smoke pouring back out of his body through his nose, mouth, ears—and even eye sockets this time.

Lilac shrieked and tried to yank away from him, threw her weight into it, but Hywell didn’t budge.

His bony fingers only dug deeper into her forearm, and if she pulled any harder he’d tear into her flesh.

A sudden, strong gust of wind swept through, and all the smoke in the room swirled into a thin veil around him before billowing up the stairwell.

The inn groaned again, and several chairs and napkins toppled in the gale ripping through the building.

Everyone crouched and held onto something—a wall, the bar, the bannister, their hair whipping around their faces.

“The chute!” Lorietta exclaimed over the wind. “It’s not working!”

Kestrel’s voice sounded again in Lilac’s head this time, except she couldn’t make out what he was saying—or if it was speaking at all. The noise warbled as if travelling through water, loud enough to make Lilac groan. She clawed at her ears, desperate for relief.

The rush of the ocean, the sound of pounding waves in a conch rising to an unbearable volume .

Suddenly, everything went quiet.

There was a beat of silence filled only by her panting. Out of the corner of her eye, Garin started toward her. Then, Lilac was shoved across the room.

The impact against the wall beside the bar was softened by Garin, who was uncoiling his arm from around her waist by the time she righted herself, catching her breath.

The force of her landing had knocked the wind out of her.

She was barely able to regain her bearings when he gave her a gentle, human-strength shove, and she stumbled backward toward the corpse.

Lilac snarled at him. “What was that fo?—”

But there was a flash of metal and a thud . Hywell was between them, trying to yank his broadsword out from the wall where her head had just been. He grunted, unintelligible, this time in his own voice.

It sounded pained, like a call for help, sparking a warning through every nerve in her body.

“It’s not him,” Garin warned, retreating toward the front door. “Don’t let him fool you.”

“Those are his defense skills, though,” Bastion called, leaping over the banister and onto the stairs as Hywell finally pulled his weapon from the wall. “I’ll bet you aren’t so upset about them now.”

Lilac fumbled with the hilt of her dagger, her palms slick with sweat.

It didn’t help any that it vibrated. She swore and scuttled back toward the hearth as she dodged a slow but heavy swing of his blade.

What could she do? Her small weapon was no match against Hywell’s sword, which had stuck, after his second attempt, into the floorboards.

She’d have to make her mind up quickly; he’d cornered her into the dining area.

Even if he moved at a very human—very Hywell—speed and was preoccupied with retrieving his sword, there wasn’t enough space for her to safely dart past him without risking being flown across the room again, or worse.

Lilac stepped onto a chair and then a table along the front wall, keeping her arms out for balance.

She stepped down onto the next chair, then leapt onto another chair a good two feet away.

Garin was watching her from the doorway, his arms crossed, and the impressed grin he wore almost made her lose her balance.

Both witches watched warily from between the bar and scullery while Bastion chewed his nails on the bottom step, looking ready to bolt up at a moment’s notice.

“Thanks for the help,” she bit out, glowering.

“We can’t,” Garin said, tracking her every move.

“What do you mean, you?—”

A tug at her ankle and she went sprawling, most of her torso slamming against the table she meant to be climbing. She put her hands out to break her fall before spinning to face Hywell. Winded, all she could do was kick at him, and her boot cracked against his chest, sending him stumbling backward.

“He’s a revenant.”

“What a thoughtful, useful piece of information!” She scrambled to her feet, tipping the table between them, and tried to yank his sword out of the floorboards herself. It was no use.

“He’s undead,” Lorietta said. “A product of Necromancy. It’s outlawed. And you’re its target.”

If they wanted to stand around and state the obvious, fine. She had no time to beg for help.

Lilac grabbed the smallest chair near her and swung it sideways as Hywell ambled toward her.

It cracked against his body, two of the legs flying off, but at least the blow knocked him away from his sword.

She hit him again with it, swinging in the opposite direction, and he teetered, this time falling onto his back.

Lilac growled, seeing red, her joints throbbing, and leaped onto him. She wiped her hands, snatched her vibrating dagger from her belt, and slashed it across the front of his throat. Hywell gurgled, blood soaking her hands and her new garment. She lifted the blade again and drove it into his heart.

Once. Twice.

That was for trying to kill her and ruining the clothes Garin had gotten her.

Sheathing the blade, she stood and stumbled away from his body as he sputtered, blood soaking the floor,pooling into the ends of her kirtle and into his hair.

She darted toward the door, wanting to vomit, needing to heave—to feel the cold air of Brocéliande.

But she looked up and met Garin’s stern gaze.

He wouldn’t move, his broad shoulders blocking the door.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She struggled to swallow. “Garin, it’s not funny. Get out of my way.”

His hand gently clamped onto hers, as if he noticed them inching up to claw at him. “The more assailants who act against a revenant who are not its intended target, the stronger and faster it gets. You have to be the one who kills it.”

Lilac almost laughed. “Did you not see me slit its throat and stab it in the heart?”

“But he didn’t die, did he?”

She turned in time to see Hywell righting himself in the pool of blood. Did her blade do anything ? Terror tore through her as the monster slowly stabilized on his feet; some of the mysterious smoke surrounding him had shrouded the wounds at his neck and chest.

Healing him.

“So how do I kill him?” she spat, shrill.

Garin eyed Hywell. “How do you deal with corpses who don’t want to stay down?”

He was slow but strong, and seemingly unstoppable. Lilac glanced around, panicked, hating feeling so helpless in a room of her friends anxiously watching her. Glower as she did, if their interference would make Hywell stronger and faster, she would rather them stand by.

When he started to shuffle toward her, she bolted for the stairs, but Garin was in front of her before she could dart past Bastion. “Think again.”

At the sound of Hywell’s grunting and shuffling behind her, she whimpered and ran toward the bar door instead, and again, Garin was there. Lorietta’s hands were over her mouth as she watched. Meriam looked equally angry and horrified as Hywell shifted closer, swordless.

“Garin,” Lilac growled, her fingernails digging into him, willing him to budge, to help her. “I just want time to think, to gain the advantage?—”

“You don’t have that time when stronger, faster enemies are after you.” He was much too cool, too logical.

“Why are you so calm?” she shrieked, sinking back against the wall where the revenant’s sword had first struck .

“Trust me, there would be little left of him if I put my hands on him. But he would regenerate, even from tiny pieces, and then he’d come back stronger, lighter on his feet.

Even if we ran, he’d hunt you down. I don’t think you’d like it very much if this revenant suddenly learned how to run and jump, would you? ”

“At least let me kill him outside?” she snarled, stumbling back, barely skirting another swipe of Hywell’s grime-covered fingers. Jagged, broken nails had sprouted in place of his short, stubby ones.

“I’m the only thing allowed to chase you through these woods.”

Lilac only uttered a sound of protest, a wave of fear cresting over her bravado.

“Focus. He’s momentarily forgotten his blade. You’ve discovered yours does nothing.” Garin’s brow rose expectantly. “What do you do when your blade falls to the wayside?”

Against that terrifying thing ? The way it moved toward her—the way it chased no one else in the tavern, spared no one else a glance. Run , her very bones urged, every muscle in her body burning, her lungs gasping for air, exhaustion threatening to consume her.

“It would chase you across the entire continent until your heart gave out.”