Page 84 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

B y the time the sky was tinged in apricot and lavender, the empty bottle of champagne and mound of chocolates had done their job. Lilac and Piper lay side by side before the fire in a mess of her duvet and empty champagne flutes.

Yanna and Isabel had hesitated when she’d invited them to stay, but ultimately decided to leave with the intention of returning at dusk.

Lilac hadn’t expected to find an unlikely alliance in them, of all places, though unexpected camaraderie seemed to be a going theme for her lately.

After Piper was banished, the only female relationship she’d had was with Marguerite.

She’d had no one. This was a foreign kind of relief.

Stem in hand and overwhelmed with emotion, Lilac felt compelled to tell Piper everything—unsolicited and probably lacking chronological order—leading up to Garin’s arrival in place of Albrecht.

Piper listened silently, mortified most of the time. At the mention of Sinclair’s attempt to rape her, Piper poured herself a glass of the apricot wine and blood concoction Garin had given them. But she couldn’t hold her laughter at the mention of Vivien’s arm being gifted by Armand.

Surprisingly, Lilac found herself laughing, too.

Weeks ago, the mere discussion of something so grotesque would’ve traumatized her.

But they’d seen things, done things that warranted a buffer between their fragile sanity and the world they’d both been thrust into.

A lawless world of magic and arcane knowledge—and the steep price paid for it.

Laughter and drinks were their buffer tonight.

Lilac had slid off the bed, Piper playfully slapping her, both doubled over at the memory of Garin on one knee in the middle of her foyer, his dark hair slicked over his eyes like a dog in the rain.

At this point, Lilac began to grow emotional at the thought of him, and Piper tried to pivot by distracting her with a game of guessing the bonbon fillings by scent.

Clearly past her limit and tiring of losing to Piper, Lilac found herself curled up, staring at the flames with her head on her arm.

She shivered despite the fire and her friend snoring behind her.

Gods, she felt so pathetic. She hated him.

He’d strode into her castle with the swagger of some vile god with the nerve to proposition her before everyone.

There’d been no urge to obey him then, though maybe it’d been down to his wording.

It was a proposition, a question, after all.

Still, he’d had the gall to show up when she’d finally realized the gravity of her duty to marry.

And why would he come to her if their thrall bond had infuriated him so?

Blearily, Lilac blinked at the ceiling, reminded of Myrddin’s words before he’d teleported them from The Fenfoss Inn. You’ll see him again. You’ll have no choice.

He’d made sure of that. Garin was a fucking prick.

Lilac winced, rolling onto her back. There was a dull ache in her abdomen, the muscles in her back tender.

She must’ve had too much to drink and was on the brink of giving herself alcohol poisoning.

She’d been there before, though, and this time she wasn’t nauseous.

She swiped at the mug of water she remembered Piper acquiring for her when there were voices at the door.

“Already?” She sipped, wetting her throat.

Piper shoved the wrapped bottle away. “I’ll get it.”

Lilac rose to her feet, willing the room to stop spinning as Yanna and Isabel entered.

Outside, the sunglow had reduced to embers beneath the trees, an encouraging breeze sweeping through the room.

Feeling nauseous, she somehow held it down and made her way unsteadily to the chamber pot.

When she lifted her skirts to relieve herself, her heart sank.

“Shit. Shit .” She wasn’t due on for another week or so .

“You’ve come on, haven’t you?” asked Piper from beyond the privacy tapestry. “Knew it.”

She let out a sound of disgust, feeling most violated. “Yes. Most unfortunately.” It was no wonder she was beginning to cramp. A rather genius thought popped into her head. “That’s it. I’ve fallen ill. I cannot go. Please tell Albrecht I send my regards.”

“Ill with your menses?” Yanna yanked the tapestry back. “They’ll send us back up here with Madame Kemble and a hot rag. That is no reason to miss out on a feast in your honor.”

Lilac scowled. “You’ve only known me a month. It can be uncomfortable.”

“She’s telling the truth,” Piper interjected. “She’s laid in bed for an entire day before. So I’ve heard,” she was quick to add.

Yanna hummed. “Have you?”

“Sometimes.” Lilac dropped her skirts, but Isabel was already approaching, rummaging into the pochette at her hip. “What also doesn’t help is my anticipation of hosting a feast for the first time in years.”

“And seeing Albrecht,” Yanna added.

And Albrecht.

Isabel pulled out a small silver tin from the pochette, a ring of tiny leaves engraved on the rim of its lid. “As eager as he seems, I doubt he’d try to proposition you publicly a second time.”

They didn’t know a thing about Garin. Lilac held her tongue as they wiped her down.

Isabel handed her the tin and taught her to apply a thin layer of the yellow-green salve to her belly and lower back.

It smelled of roses and some other potent earthy ingredient.

They’d learned how to craft the remedy from the innkeeper at The Fool's Folly—Madame Toranaga, who’d sent the letter and apparently also ran the apothecary.

The salve was warming and didn’t seem to take the pain away as much as distract her, but they assured her the effects would wax and wane before reapplication was required.

She lined her bottoms with the cloth Yanna pulled from her apron, while the handmaidens observed the flutes and several bitten candies strewn about with wide eyes.

But no one said a thing about it while Lilac and Piper rummaged in the closet for gown options.

A squeak escaped Isabel as she reached into the armoire and extracted a pile of material .

The kirtles from Garin.

Piper gasped, standing from the chair. “I’ve never seen these before.”

“Oh, those? They were a gift from Herlinde at the Haberdashery,” Lilac lied, facing the mirror. “Those are much too plain.”

“ Plain? ” Yanna’s eyes bulged as she stalked past Lilac. “Maybe for a grand ball, but not a feast. Look.”

Lilac did—and gasped. Isabel was laying the dresses out on her bed, one by one. She could have sworn they were kirtles. These were ball gowns, varying in color, length, and sleeve style. Generous, sparkling material in dazzling jewel tones. Once Isabel laid them out, Lilac counted at least ten.

“These are most certainly Herlinde’s work,” Yanna whispered, fingering the sleeves of a muted green number with a pretty lace shawl whose patterned edges were shaped like snowflakes. “These are her enchanted dresses. Rumor is they transform length and size for the occasion and the wearer.”

“You know about them?” Lilac asked. “About her?”

“Of course we do,” said Isabel, not taking her eyes off the dresses. “Herlinde fashions our masks at the brothel. On occasion, Madame Toranaga has tea with Herlinde at Miss Quillrose’s shop in over in Paimpont. Many of our elite courtesans and their clients shop at The Hemlock Haberdashery.”

“Yes, but none of them have ever been able to afford her arcane garments,” added Yanna. “The price for just one of these is steep. We’ve never even seen one of her arcane gowns, she never has them on display. They cost more than I’ve ever held in my pockets. She must fancy you.”

“She is generous.” Swallowing, Lilac ran her fingers along the sapphire dress. Expensive silk, sweeping gossamer sleeves that sparkled subtly, even in the dim light. This one was without a flared waist, the hem looking like it would waterfall to her toes.

“You must wear one,” Yanna said. “You’d be stupid to let these rot in your closet.”

Piper hadn’t said anything. She watched from the corner of the bed, blinking at the pile of clothes.

“Piper?” Lilac said. “What do you think?”

“I’ve never seen anything so luxurious.” She cradled her arms to her chest, eyeing a deep red dress with frills and a high neck. “Dresses so beautiful.”

Isabel snickered. “If it was your intention to enchant or devastate someone at The Fool's Folly, Your Majesty,” she began, exchanging glances with Yanna, “and that person happens to be here tonight, then I reckon any of these dresses will do the trick.”

These gowns were so beautiful she’d be foolish not to wear one.

Lilac agreed upon one condition—that Yanna and Isabel were in attendance with her and Piper at the feast, and that they each pick one of the gowns to go in.

The sisters refused at first, panicked at the thought of attending last minute.

It would take much too long, they’d argued, and their builds were different than hers and Piper’s.

But it would take no time at all, and Yanna herself had said they’d form to the wearer. Piper had become an expert at wrestling Lilac into her dresses, and Lilac was primped often enough to know how to do it for someone else.

Yanna and Isabel exchanged dubious glances, but in the end, they agreed to at least try them on. They’d been correct about the sizing, after all.

Lilac stepped back and stared into the vanity mirror.

Dressed in soft lavender, Isabel was pinning Piper’s long braid into a bun and embellishing it in gold emerald pins that contrasted with the carmine gown she’d chosen.

Yanna’s scowl softened as she turned this way and that in the juniper dress that swept her ankles.

In their reflection, Lilac saw four women who suddenly knew each other’s secrets, ready to take on a feast after spending the evening laughing and crying.

She was the only one who looked like she’d been crying.

Her deep sapphire gown with its plunging sweetheart neckline and shimmering long, bell-shaped sleeves that caught every fragment of light would serve as distraction enough.

There was no need to hide her tears from Garin. She’d gladly let him see how distraught she’d been.

Her stomach knotted. Had he truly come to ensure she’d make the right decision? Or had he come because he’d changed his mind and wanted to discuss a Daemon alliance?

Something more ?

She watched her cheeks flame in the reflection while Yanna shuffled forward and added the final touches of powder and color upon Lilac’s lips, matting out some of the sweat on her forehead. Just in case, Isabel handed her the salve tin from her pochette, which Lilac promptly tucked into her bosom.

There was no telling what Garin’s intentions were. But tonight, she’d find out.