“Fortunately, Your Majesty,” Garin said, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out something half the length of his forearm and wrapped several times in cloth. Her heart dropped as he offered it to her. “I brought this from our armory. You should remain well equipped. You never know what, or whom, might be lurking out there.”
She accepted it, hand trembling. She didn’t need to open it to know what it was. Lilac held it away as nausea rolled through her.
Someone tapped her arm. Piper gently took the stake, careful to handle it over the cloth as the room watched with bated breath.
“Our armory contains a small collection of stakes and other odds and ends tucked away,” Henri offered stiffly from the corridor archway. “We’ve never had to use them and hopefully never will.” When she said nothing, her father cleared his throat. “Aren’t you going to thank him?”
“Idon’t think she’s accustomed to such abrupt kindness is all,” Marguerite assured Garin. “Dear? What do you have to say?”
“I think you should leave.” Every head in the room swiveled to face Lilac. The words were like sand in her throat, distorting her tone. She sounded hesitant, the surefire fury she felt deep down instantly tapering off at her lips.
Unphased, Garin brought his hand to his mouth, licking a residual smear of pink frosting off his knuckle. “But I’ve only just arrived. And what of Hedwig’s delectable treats? I cannot go without tastingallof them.”
Helena stumbled against Gertrude, on the brink of fainting.
“Come now, Your Majesty,” Hedwig said, visibly flattered but still upset. “They must stay for the feast proposed for tonight.”
There was a loudpop, followed by the sound of raining glass upon the floor. The champagne flute had shattered in her hand. Hedwig’s assistants rushed to her side, attempting to examine her. Lilac brushed them off, cradling her arm to her chest and ignoring the slight sting in her hand.
“Your parents had requested a dinner celebration to mark the emissary’s arrival and your new acquaintanceship,” explained Hedwig firmly. “It was to be a surprise.”
He had come to safeguard the pathway to her and Maximilian’s alliance—he didn’t trust her to make the right choice. Garin hadn’t known she’d agree to it, unless Myrddin had told him. Whether or not he knew it, both scenarios made his presence all the more infuriating.
So did needing to focus on her anger as her body began to throb.
“Cancel it,” she managed, swallowing hard and dusting the glass off her fingers. She couldn’t exactly fault her mother’s friends for being unable to peel their eyes off him; Lilac had salivated at the sight of Garin in his black sweeping cloak and fur collar. “There will be no feast tonight.”
Garin stepped back, finally giving her room to breathe. Givinghimselfroom, hands flexing at his side. “A feast, you say?”
There was movement behind him, then; the crowd parted with utterances of disgust as a flash of gray—Bisousig—slunk around Garin’s legs. Giles peered around Garin’s shoulders, made broader by his cloak. The coachman’s eyes widened at the array of mostly untouched treats before him, but Garin turned and shot him a look.
“Get her out of here,” he warned under his breath.
Giles nodded and promptly scooped the cat up from Garin’s ankles, bowing and showing himself out between the perplexed guards.
“If I may, Your Majesty.” Myrddin raised his hand to speak. His glorious golden hair was cropped, falling just over his ears and framing his face. He’d gotten rid of his robes and instead wore a dusk blue tunic, unbuttoned at the chest over tight dark trousers. “Under the emperor’s order, we cannot leave without presenting you with Maximilian’s marriage offer. You have every right to decline,” Myrddin was quick to add.
Garin swiveled back on him. Whatever look the vampire gave Myrddin shut him right up. “Which she will not,” Garin said, his mask slipping.
“I don’t understand,” Marguerite said, hysterical. “She has our blessing. She was willing, eager even, for Maximilian’s proposition last night when Artus—” Her fingers went to her lips as she realized what she’d said.
Murmurs rose around the room.
Garin’s head snapped to Lilac. “Artus Le Tallec was here?”
Had Myrddin not mentioned the former duke’s visit? Although his inquiry was no demand, his tone wrenched it from her. “He and his men were here late last night spouting several harmless threats,” she answered, as the rest of the nobility listened in. Then, for everyone else’s benefit, added, “Do you know him?”
Garin ran a hand through his hair, collecting himself. “I’ve heard of him. Before I was sent on my way, I was briefed. I understand he was removed from his position years ago, but that his family retained their titles, and that they were fairly close with yours.” He observed the warning look Henri and Marguerite exchanged with Lilac and lowered his voice. “I did hear there was an incident with his grandson, though. At your ceremony the other week.”
“He became enraged during the end of my accession and was arrested. He and his family were on house arrest until he ended up murdering his mother.”
Garin’s hand went to his temple, his annoyance dissolving. He took a deep breath, pretending to process the information. “My God. Has he been executed?” He was an infuriatingly good liar.
“Not yet. He’s here in the dungeons,” Lilac said matter-of-factly. “Armand came to the castle shortly after. He requested an audience just to gift me his wife’s severed arm and spilled his guts all over my Grand Hall.”
Her mother groaned and put her face in her hands. Henri was shaking.
Garin looked back at the crowd, who watched her with unabashed abhorrence. “His own innards?”
