Page 89 of Disillusioned (A Lay of Ruinous Reign #2)

T hat voice. It was familiar. Dreadfully so.

She hadn’t noticed him, didn’t know how much of their conversation he’d heard, but by the nervous smile on his face, it didn’t appear he’d heard a word at all.

A gentleman in a deep red coat embellished in silver filigree and buttons stood before their table, his hands clasped behind his back as he folded into a rigid bow.

He blinked and frowned as he took her in, as if just noticing her ruddy face. Lilac wiped her nose and offered him a wide, frantic smile. The newcomer’s eyes flickered over to Garin, who greeted him with a murderous glare.

“Rupert! What a surprise.” Lilac stood and gave him her hand, desperately forcing herself to think of anything but leading the guard from the old coat closet to her bedchamber a year ago, tonguing him deeply with one hand down the front of his trousers and a bottle of claret in the other.

Rupert was a decade older and well-liked among the ranks.

He was sweet, at least kind enough to keep his mouth shut about the things they did, and hadn’t been released by her father—to her knowledge.

But the last time they’d snuck off was the last she’d seen of him.

“W-where have you been?” she stammered. “You weren’t sent to La Guerche with the rest? ”

“No. I’ve, erm, actually been on leave. Traveling out west. Le Conquet is quite beautiful this time of year.” Rupert kissed her hand as she studied him. She hadn’t known their guards to simply take leave. “I returned several days ago.”

“Everyone just departed under Father’s watch,” Lilac whispered, taking her seat. “France has been scouting out east. There’s been a skirmish or two. Nothing large-scale yet.”

“So I’ve heard. I stopped through Paimpont on my way,” he added.

“Then why are you here?” she demanded, Garin’s words echoing in her pounding ears.

Rupert laughed, thrown by her intensity. “Lilac, I?—”

“You have addressed her by her name twice now,” Garin interjected. “Her pet name, nonetheless. She is your queen and you are her foot soldier, are you not? You will address her as ‘Majesty’ .”

Rupert leered at him, as if offended by being addressed by someone who appeared younger, but stopped at the look on Lilac’s face. She shook her head minutely, so he bowed instead. “Your Majesty, I honor my duty. That’s why I’m here, I hoped to catch the others in time.”

“You’re leaving, then?”

“At dawn,” Rupert confirmed. “The armorer briefed me upon arrival.”

No one should have briefed him without Lilac’s or Henri’s knowledge.

Seething, she looked out at the floor; her father was swaying, sandwiched between her dancing mother, a shit-faced Helena, and giggling Gertrude.

He didn’t seem suited to attend to any business matters after touring the castle with Garin.

Displeased, Lilac studied Rupert and wondered where he’d acquired such a fine coat. “And what of your armor? Your weapons?”

“I’ll acquire them from the armory before my departure,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand.

Garin leaned forward. “Has there been an escalation?”

“None that were mentioned,” Rupert responded, then curtly redirected his attention to Lilac.

“When I heard there’d be a feast, I knew I couldn’t miss the opportunity to congratulate you.

I didn’t mean to interrupt, but I couldn’t bear the thought of letting the night pass without asking you for a dance. ”

Immediately Lilac felt lightheaded, a crawling heat radiating off to her left—from Garin.

“That’s kind. I’d love to share a dance with you, but you remember those silly fraternization laws.

” It might be entertaining to watch Garin squirm, but she wouldn’t chance it for Rupert’s sake.

Plus, she wasn’t done interrogating the vampire. “I’m afraid I must refrain.”

“Ah, well yes. That’s the thing.” The guard turned to look at a woman perched on the corner of the table where Piper, Yanna, and Isabel sat.

She was the one who’d laughed as Gertrude and Agnes had commented on Albrecht’s lateness in the foyer earlier.

She had a kind, round face, her plump cheeks and eyelids dappled high with a wash of peach, her hair tucked high in a playful bun over a chartreuse chiffon gown.

The woman gave them a coy wave before courteously returning her attention to Piper.

“My mother Emma is a countess from Vannes.”

“The Countess of Vannes?” Garin said, tearing his simmering gaze from Rupert and craning his neck.

“Yes.”

Lilac stuffed down her skepticism. “I’ve never seen her at any of my mother’s parties. Nor you.”

“My mother was not often invited to socialize. Not after having a child with a commoner.”

“Oh.” She was probably one of the court-adjacent women, never truly in Marguerite and Henri’s circle. It had been years, she could’ve easily forgotten. That still didn’t explain why he was at her feast. “I had no idea.”

“It’s perfectly fine.” Rupert shook off her apology, nervousness clouding the handsome, boyish way he smiled.

Garin was studying the guard; she could feel it without looking at him.

“One dance couldn’t hurt,” Garin offered. “Now that it’s been made clear he isn’t some lowly guard.”

“I couldn’t.” She glanced at him sidelong. “I wouldn’t want to leave you alone, My Lord.”

“I’ll survive.” Garin sat back, cozying into the throne. “Maximilian will not mind. Go ahead, Your Majesty.” She glared, but Garin only gave her a generous smile, cocking his head toward the dance floor. “I insist.”

“I couldn’t possibly?—”

“Dance. For me.”

At his last words, Lilac stood abruptly, as if tugged up by strings. Heart pounding, she pushed her throne back with one hand, causing several pairs of eyes to drift to her. Even Rupert blinked at her willingness. “You know what? I shall.”

Fighting the pull of Garin’s demand would only draw attention; gritting her teeth and cursing him to the lowest circle of hell, Lilac obliged, allowing his power to tug her away. Garin bowed his head, lips pursed as stood to make room for her to pass him.

Seething, Lilac joined Rupert at the top of the stairs. She placed her hand upon his, feeling Garin’s gaze burning the back of her neck as they descended.

She wouldn’t let him instruct her again, not in front of everyone.

Lilac pulled Rupert past her friends and Emma, toward the quartet and the warlock.

Myrddin still stood near the musicians, chuckling and sharing a slice of cake with Hedwig.

It appeared he hadn't noticed the commotion at their table, or her approaching; upon spotting them, the warlock’s eyes grew wide.

She didn't know what she was doing—hadn’t had enough practice for a partner dance without humiliating herself. The only consolation was that Rupert’s movements were no better; he was stiff in his attempt at rhythm.

“Help,” she mouthed, her hand lifting to rest upon Rupert’s shoulder.

Finally realizing Lilac wasn’t gracing the floor of her own accord, Myrddin skittered forward and whispered something to one of the musicians. To her horror, they brought out a stringed instrument, the ones on either side of him readied their drums, and before she knew it, her body was moving.

Rupert stifled a yelp as her foot came down on the toes of his boot.

“I am so sorry,” Lilac said, straining against every movement. This was not the kind of help she’d had in mind.

He readjusted his grip on her upper back. “Usually it’s customary I take the lead, Your Majesty.”

Her muscles were already burning. The song Myrddin had requested was drum-heavy, the vibrations of the string instrument coursing through her body like an unending pulse.

Maybe if she kept talking, he wouldn’t find her movements so suspicious.

“Sometimes, one might find it beneficial to let the lady take the lead. Don’t you think? ”

“I suppose.” Rupert looked dubious. “Have you not learned the dances? ”

“The pavane and almain are boring.” She owed him no explanation, growing more annoyed with every jerky movement her body made. “I’ll have you know, even if it seems that I don’t know what I’m doing, it doesn’t mean I cannot lead well. That I will not learn to, with time.”

She caught Piper, Yanna, and Isabel staring; Lilac shot them a warning glare before launching herself out, extending her arm and nearly swiping the champagne flutes off a passing server’s tray.

Lilac shrieked with the wind knocked out of her as she twirled back into poor Rupert, who coughed when she landed against his chest.

“You’re right, Your Majesty.” He cradled her cautiously, as if handling an awkwardly large vase. “Your dancing skills are truly astounding.”

She couldn’t keep at this all night. Lilac looked over to Myrddin; he gave her an enthusiastic thumbs up as Hedwig watched with her hand over her mouth.

All the while, Garin watched from his perch.

His expression was unreadable at first. Did he think it was funny?

Was he bored? Why would he have her dance with Rupert, a noblewoman’s bastard son, in front of everyone?

It was just a dance, that much was true.

And this was her feast. But what was the point?

The corners of his mouth quirked upward, his bored, darkened eyes on Rupert. He’d wanted to embarrass him. Garin was jealous .

Lilac would dance for him, indeed.

“Slower,” she directed the quartet. They exchanged glances and did as they were told.

The melody and pacing of the song instantly slowed, becoming much more sultry.

The guests around them gasped in delight.

Lilac stopped fighting, letting the pounding of the drums and surging of the string instruments wash over her.

She spun and wrapped her arms around Rupert’s neck, stepping so close she could smell the dates and honey on his breath.