Page 51 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

“ W as that necessary?” Lilac stuck the toe of her shoe into the door and shouldered her way in, letting it fall shut behind her.

The room was spacious, draped in gold and maroon linens she could tell were worn and not dusted in months at least—but in contrast with The Fenfoss Inn, it was near luxury.

There was a red settee centered before a crackling fire and Garin braced himself against the back of it, facing the hearth on the right hand wall.

He wore a loose cream linen shirt that had been untucked from his trousers. His shoulders were relaxed, but the veins on his hands were visible as they gripped the frame of the chair.

The room was sweltering, or it at least felt like it. She craned her neck, looking around for a window. There was one opposite the fireplace, covered in drapes on a door that appeared to lead onto a balcony. Then, there was the four poster bed, an armoire, and a closet.

“You’re lecturing me on morality? They were the ones who brought me their friend to eat just so I was satiated enough to bed them.”

“And were you?” she asked quietly.

He either didn’t hear her or chose to ignore her question.

Without a glance in her direction, he reached for something dark that sat on the bedside table between the settee and the bed.

Before she realized it was the slim neck of a decanter, Garin had filled the stout glass beside it and tipped it back against his mouth.

He hesitated after emptying it in a couple swallows, picking up the decanter and studying the bottle. Then, he placed the glass down and took another long swig straight from the decanter. A strangled sound escaped Lilac’s mouth, but the warning died on her lips.

“You should leave,” he said simply, his glance toward her fleeting before making his way to the front of the settee and taking a seat. When she said nothing and just stood there, he leaned into the lush back of the chair, settling in. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“I’m not in need of your services.”

Refusing to look at him, numb at his words, she made her way over to the table at the corner of the settee. She didn’t stop to glance his way as she swiped the decanter off of it.

Lilac held it to her nose. It smelled like Scotch, but it was hard to tell. Lilac tossed it into the fire just in case, and skittered back when the flames jumped at her, the backs of her knees bumping the chair.

Garin was watching, open-mouthed. His eyes, now that they were in the light, were the shade of rubies like they had been in her dream. There were deep shadows around them, as if he hadn’t slept in days. “God, woman. If you wanted a drink, you could’ve just said so.”

“I think they poisoned you.”

His hair was messy, sticking up in odd places as if he’d been yanking at it. He gave a dismissive grunt. “Those wenches? Poison me ?”

“It was probably in your liquor. Or in that woman’s blood. Some fell from the balcony onto the crowd—onto me, and some got into my mouth.”

He hummed, disinterested. “Unfortunate. Well, I’m immune to most poisons. When will you die?”

“I won’t.”

“What was it?”

“Dragondew Mead. It’s what they serve to the courtesans here.”

Garin frowned. “That doesn’t sound familiar. Nor does it sound like a poison if they serve it to the courtesans. ”

“It was given without your consent or knowing—i-it’s made from some sort of plant. It was…”

She tried to think, to remember, but all she could focus on was his mouth, the way his teeth nipped his bottom lip and his brows lifted as he watched her squirm.

“Yes?” Garin drawled.

“Sea…” His expectant expression made it impossible to concentrate. “Sea something. Sea?—”

“ Silphium .” Garin’s eyes flickered as he rifled through his knowledge of plants.

“I’ve never heard of it infused into a mead before, though.

That’s no poison. It’s a contraceptive. Responsible of them to have on hand, but you wouldn’t need it with me,” he said, smirking at her heating face.

“I appreciate the concern. As long as it wasn’t hawthorn, I’ll process it quickly. ”

He seemed more interested in her now, so she didn’t bother correcting him even if she was certain Silphium wasn’t the herb. Lilac swallowed. She thought he tracked the movement of her throat, although it was hard to tell with the flames dancing in his irises. “Hopefully.”

“Yes, hopefully. As long as I’ve had something to eat.” There was something mocking in his tone. He’d assaulted her with his hungry gaze and sarcasm many times, but tonight something was off. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

“It is.” Fumbling with the saucer, Lilac took the corner of the blood-stained cloth that covered the chalice, some of it from the girl, some of it from the spilled?—

Lilac frowned. Empty. The chalice was empty, dry, with not a drop of blood in it. But there was something in there.

She reached in and pulled out a small, silver object, and held it up to the firelight.

The barkeep downstairs had been telling the truth, after all. In her panic, in the haze of the mead, she didn’t understand exactly what it was she was looking at—or why it belonged in the empty chalice.

It was a blade. A scalpel.

“ A vessel .” His breath swept the back of her neck, jolting her. “One that you are meant to fill.”

Lilac started and caught herself on the edge of the settee, the chalice and saucer clattering to the floor. She hadn’t seen or heard him stand .

Scalpel gripped in the other hand, she pulled herself up onto the seat as Garin advanced on her, and didn’t stop until she’d slid all the way back.

She couldn’t help but tremble as he knelt before her, one knee up and an elbow propped onto it, examining her.

Up close, there was no warmth in his gaze. No familiarity, no fondness there.

“You came to bloodlet for me.”

His taunting lilt coupled with his intoxicating scent made her dizzy. “I came to convince you to leave.”

“Leave?” Garin chuckled, the ominous sound sending waves of nausea through her. “Now, why would I do that, when I have you here? All to myself. A glamored hire sent to lure me out.”

She shook her head vehemently. This was a misunderstanding he would not take lightly. “N-no, I am no hire. Myrddin transported me here to come get you.”

“You work here.” His lip curled away from his fangs in distrust. “You’re a product of that blasted warlock. He transmuted you. This is your glamor.” His gaze roved over her, lingering on every detail with sharp scrutiny. Her eyes. Her mask, the flowers on it. Her lips.

She fought back a violent shudder, realizing Garin’s implications. “It’s me .”

He reached toward her face.

“It won’t come off,” Lilac said when he tapped the corner of her mask.

“Myrddin is here, downstairs, and he bewitched this blasted mask onto my— ow ,” she said, slapping his hand away after he’d tried tugging it harder.

It would rip her skin off. “He spelled it onto me, and it won’t come off until you leave this room. ”

He gave a thundercrack of a laugh. “They don’t want me to leave this room. Not right now. Not tonight.”

“ I do, Garin.”

“Do not speak my name if you have been bewitched to not only convince me to leave, but that you are her,” he said, eyes darkening.

She didn’t fight him, knowing she was in no place to challenge him. Instead, she asked, “What’s stopping you? Why are you here?”

“I am here because I made a grave mistake. I cannot leave without revisiting a past I have put behind me, and not without undoing so much of what you—what Lilac —is accomplishing this very second. At her castle. Far, far away from here. From me. As she should be.”

She couldn’t help herself, not with how his voice cracked with desperation.

This was a Garin she had not yet seen. His forehead was slick with sweat.

Lilac reached out for his knee, to place her hand there, but he shifted away—and she stopped at his warning glare.

“Lorietta and Adelaide said you hadn’t been eating well. ”

“Have they now?”

“It’s what they told me when I went to the inn in search of you.”

He exhaled through his nostrils, deliberating, probably trying to decide how much information he could divulge to whom he thought was a stranger.

Garin’s throat bobbed. He was eyeing her lips again. “I cannot talk to you. You should leave.”

He stood to get away, but her hand shot out to grab his. Fortunately he didn’t retaliate, only looked down at their hands in wonder.

“Even if it was true, what you believe—that I am not me, but one of the lovely courtesans who work here,” Lilac said, choosing her words carefully, “then someone compensated me for my time with you. You may use it as you wish.” Garin ran his tongue over his bottom lip, watching her intently, still as a statue.

“You can talk to me, if you wish to do nothing else.”

Slowly, he neared and knelt before her once more. “I have been ill,” he said quietly, as if afraid someone would hear.

“Since the crash?” she urged, despite the menacing look he shot her. “Since you saved me?”

“I refused to take a donor at the inn because of my bloodlust. I haven’t felt myself since—” He stopped himself, speaking hurriedly when he continued, as if displeased by the memories.

“Something told me if I took a donor, I’d end up breaking many of Lorietta’s feeding rules.

So I drank myself sick on cold blood. That backfired.

I drained a lone traveler on the way here.

I couldn’t help myself. I was blinded by it, not unlike the first thirst. By the time I arrived in Rennes, it felt like I had not had blood in weeks.

It was then I discovered that something was very wrong, and yet I couldn’t bring myself to return to the inn, to my bedchamber, where I should be.

If I turned back, I knew without a doubt I’d end up at her castle. ”

The room had gone very quiet despite the noise downstairs. “What would you do, then?”