Page 65 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

“No,” Herlinde answered for her with a snort.

“Me? Stranded? You see, Lilac had visited me to check if I’d received the imported fabrics she’d requested on our first visit.

I hadn’t, not yet, but I invited her in despite the late hour,” she explained.

“We had some tea, and I expressed concern with her not taking a guard with her, especially after the last one abandoned his duties—” Herlinde glared at the guards—“in favor of a tavern stop.” Herlinde sighed in pity.

“Anyway, we get along splendidly. Still without guard, Her Majesty was so kind to invite me to accompany her on the way back, and I suggested I might take a peek at her wardrobe for her fitting and style preferences. Although, I am glad to return at a later time, though.” Herlinde bowed again, taking a hurried step back toward the door.

“I feel I may have walked in on something.”

“Wait,” Lilac blurted before Herlinde could escape.

She had questions, and the witch would answer them.

“Herlinde, you came all this way. You are welcome to peruse my closets any time. At the very least, come in for dessert before Giles brings you back.” She ignored the irked gleam in Herlinde’s eyes—she had to be at least distantly related to the Aglovens—and turned back to the guards.

“Are Hedwig and Mother still awake? We’ll take dessert upstairs, if so. ”

“And some of her croissants—” Piper cut herself off, the constellation of freckles across her face nearly disappearing in her increasing redness. “If she has any, that is.”

“How assuming,” Lilac gritted through her teeth.

“I said, if .”

“Hedwig is wide awake,” the first guard replied, warily observing the three of them. “But she’s busy with your parents and their guest in the Grand Hall.”

Lilac turned her attention from Piper. “What guest?”

“He arrived just before we found Phoebe. Refuses to leave until he’s had a word with you.”

She swallowed her nerves, nodding. “Show us the way, then. And never,” she added with a fixed glare, grasping Piper’s hand as they followed the guards into the west wing corridor. “ Never handle any guest, especially one of mine, again in such a manner.”

Despite being fully lit, the halls were quiet and void of their usual evening inhabitants, no staff nor scullery maids closing down for the night.

Just when they reached the end of the corridor, the double doors to the Great Hall swung open.

The guards leading them stepped aside as crowd filed out: at least one dozen sentries, a whispering Lady Gertrude, and her often present accomplice, Lady Helena—tankard in hand—at the rear.

The first guard who’d escorted them uttered silent orders to the ones that emerged.

Past them, she could see two tables had been moved to the center, but her vision was blocked by her mother’s friends.

They startled at the sight of her, stopping to bow.

Lilac returned the gesture and exchanged a kiss on the cheek with each.

They eyed her hungrily, taking in every detail they possibly could—her bright eyes and deepened shade of her hair.

The taller and more brazen of the two even took in a sharp breath at the healthy sheen of berry that frosted the edges and center of Lilac’s face.

“You look so…so healthy,” Gertrude commented as they slowly continued past, motioning aggressively for the guards to continue. The doors shut with a

“Thank you, Gertrude,” Lilac said. They looked surprised, but not as shocked as her mother did the first time she’d returned. They’d already been discussing the queen and her altered appearance, no doubt. “Are you two off to bed so soon?”

“Yes, actually,” Helena said with an apprehensive glance back at the now closed doors. Her cheeks were red. “Henri’s pours were much too heavy. And they?—”

“That’s it now.” Gertrude took her slurring friend by the hand. “All of you have a good night,” she said with a lingering glance upon Piper.

Normally, the former handmaiden stood a few inches taller than Lilac. At the moment, however, she slouched behind Herlinde, as if aiming to make herself the smallest person in the room.

“Tomorrow, then,” said Helena.

“Tomorrow,” said Lilac. She waved them off toward the northern wing and pushed the doors to the Grand Hall open before the guards could get to them.

Both tables split the room, with the remaining ones pushed against the walls.

On the right one, half was covered in a small feast and dessert spread.

Hedwig’s signature pastries and tarts, a tea cart nearby with a half-eaten bird and what appeared to be sausages and cheese at the end.

On the left-hand table, Henri sat at the far end, his back to the stairs and fire, his expression unreadable as he greeted her with a minute nod.

Wearing an uncomfortable smile, Marguerite was seated to his right. Four of their guards surrounded them.

But someone else sat at the other end of the table with his back to Lilac—also surrounded by four of his own men.

Two of them were Armand’s guards, dressed in the familiar red and gold of the Le Tallec estate.

The other two were Mathias and Lorenzo, although she barely recognized them under several layers of bandaging.

Large ribbons of gauze wrapped around both of Mathias’s arms; Lorenzo’s right foot and calf were encased, too.

Heavy blades and bows hung from their scabbards.

One by one, they all turned to face her.

The last, the seated stranger, was Monsieur Le Tallec.

“Good evening, Your Majesty,” he said with a yellowing smile. “So nice of you to join us.”

“There is nothing to join.” Henri glanced up at Lilac. There was a clear glass of what she assumed to be water and a cup of tea before him. He’d attempted to sober up. “Artus was just leaving.”

Lilac remained where she stood, her eyes locked on Sinclair’s grandfather. “What are you doing here?”

“I came for a drink. For a chat.” He stared at her from over the rim of his teacup, sipping his tea.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you and your mother, and to see your dear father again.” His attention shifted behind Lilac—to Piper, Herlinde, and the pair of guards that flanked them. “Erm, is that a witch?”

“Order your men to surrender their weapons,” Lilac began. She was keenly aware of her parents’ eyes on them, Hedwig watching mutely from the head of the pastry table. “Or there will be no chatting of any kind. It’s been my rule for every visitor since your grandson attacked me.”

Artus sat back, extending his hands in mocking welcome. “Have your men come and take them from mine.”

Loosing the indignant rage burning inside her would only fuel his insolence. She refused to give him the satisfaction. The room was dead silent as Lilac observed Henri’s warning stare from over Artus’s shoulder.

“Of course, you Trécessons must be used to taking things from me and my kin by now.” He gave Lilac a pitying glance, then turned to face Henri head on.

“Our families have a long history, don’t we?

First, Francis stripping the Ermengardes of their titles over a trivial misunderstanding.

Shortly after, banishing me from my own duty of birthright and installing my son prematurely.

Then your daughter’s escapade with those vampires my grandson nearly lost his life to.

The kingdom has not forgotten so easily. ”

Some of this was new information to her, particularly this business about the titles. The Ermengardes were a prominent noble family; when were they ever dismissed? Lilac opened her mouth to reply, but her attention caught on her father’s trembling, red face.

Henri stood so fast his chair knocked back with a crack. He swept his arm across the table, his and Marguerite’s glassware smashing to the floor. “Misunderstanding? The Ermengardes were caught siphoning royal funds to finance their lavish vacations without Francis’s knowledge!”

“Your father was cruel to banish my daughter-in-law’s family,” said Artus. “They were loyal to your father. Gratienne with was pregnant with Vivien.”

“Vivien’s parents were sentenced to ten years of serfdom during the court session you interrupted.

They remained here. Francis could have sent them to the dungeons.

The Ermengardes’ titles were eventually reinstated in Vivien’s tenth year, and my parents even granted them a trip to the coast before they resumed their duties at Father’s side.

They were not banished entirely from my parents’ court. Not as you were.”

Artus’s eyes narrowed. “Ah, yes. They were fortunate for the chance at a trial.”

“You broke into the Grand Hall, screaming nonsense about Daemons at the court and jury—including the row of French diplomats in their jury who’d come to monitor the Ermendardes’ trial.

You made a spectacle of my father’s authority in front of them, and you’ve the audacity to question my father’s decision to deem you unfit for duty?

Although, I do suppose congratulations on your remarkable recovery are in order—you seem plenty well enough to travel to my castle in the middle of the night with your accusations.

Have you clawed your way out of the depths of your madness, or is it simply that it only troubles you when you’re asked to do your job? ”

This was the first Lilac had heard of the reason for his dismissal.

He’d interrupted Vivien’s parents’ trial.

But the subtle triumph in Artus’s smirk led Lilac to believe not everything had come to light.

What more had Artus done to warrant losing his title?

More than that, what else had he managed to get away with?

Had Francis feared Artus’s interruption would leave a certain impression on the French diplomats? Just how unhinged was his rant?

Even she thought it seemed a harsh punishment to come from her notoriously docile grandfather.