The way the dying sunlight filtered through the trees, casting his dark hair in red and softening his features, made it difficult to look away.
Bastion shouted something out the carriage window, and Giles made an onward motion to the guard, then prompted his own horses. The carriage jolted forward. As they rolled past, Giles waved, and Bastion made an obscene gesture at her and Garin before he leaned back and yanked the curtains shut, safe from the last rays of sun.
Garin’s eyes flashed in anger over her shoulder at him, but when they turned to her they were already softer. Kinder. He offered his hand.
Glad for the space, even if Garin’s brother was perfectly capable of hearing every word if he wanted to, Lilac inhaled the evening air, taking in its damp earth and sweet flora. There were several scathing words on the tip of her tongue, but they all melted away the moment her skin touched his.
He lifted her palm to his mouth, and instead of kissing the back of her hand, flipped it and pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist as he dipped into a graceful bow. “Your Majesty. You look every bit as inelegant and delicious as I left you.”
All she wanted was to feel his lips on her, but she returned his bow with a curtsy. “Our castle has been in turmoil without its patriarch. How will it manage without its impossibly young, handsome stand-in archdeacon?”
His lips slowly quirked. “I have a feeling they will manage just fine.”
Garin ignored her withering look and beckoned for her to follow before sauntering toward the now halted carriage and guard a ways down the path, leaving her and the nibbling horse in the middle of the road. She groaned and made to follow them.
“Let’s go then,” she muttered to the animal.
Not to her surprise, it looked up and snorted dismissively, then went back to the grass.
Garin had circled to the other side of the carriage as he plucked flint, steel, and what looked to be a stout beeswax candle from the tin, then tucked it back under his arm. He shifted, using his shoulders to block the wind; on the third try, the wick burst into a bright green flame that danced violently in the strengthening evening breeze.
Garin lit the lantern dangling from the upper corner of the carriage. The flame in the lantern cage then burst into several shades of green before fading back into orange, causing the guard’s eyes to widen—but he did not make the commotion he would have if not under Garin’s spell.
He extinguished the candle between his fingers and slid it into the tin with the rest of its contents, then handed it back to Giles, who whistled a rather melancholy tune as he tucked it into the storage box beside the driver’s bench.
“You haven’t entranced my entire castle, have you?” she said as she approached.
“If I’d entranced everyone, that fellow there would not have been such a terrible shot. He couldn’t even hit Loïg.”
“Who’s Loïg?”
There was then a hot breeze tickling her neck. A large snout appeared beside her, causing her to jump. The a horse—Loïg—sniffed at Garin from over her shoulder. She shifted out of the way, unable to take her eyes off the creature; its mane fell straight, reflecting the evening in a gloss that seemed to swallow the remnants of sun. Its tail was the longest Lilac had ever seen on a horse, falling magnificently to its back hoof.
She couldn’t help herself. Lilac reached out—the animal seemed fine with this—to run her fingers along the intricate, unfamiliar patterns carved into the saddle. The large piece of leather was shaped differently than those from her kingdom, even distinct from the French or English varieties, sitting atop a thick tapestry spun in jewel-toned colors. Blues, greens, reds, woven between an astonishing gold.
Garin reached out, too, and barely removed his fingers in time to prevent them from being chomped off by its large front teeth. Startled, Lilac stepped back.
“He doesn’t like you.” The Camargue he’d stolen from Renald seemed to fancy him much more.
“No, he doesn’t. I’ve tried to bribe him with sugar and carrots.”
She laughed. “Someone finally not beguiled by your charms.”
“He barely let Bastion mount. I’d say he’s not a fan of the immortal variety. Perhaps it’s the blood drinking.” Garin shifted and set a gentle hand upon the small of her back. “Well?”
She withdrew her hand from the horse at his touch. “Well, what?”
“What do you think?”
Her pulse was already erratic, as it always was when his hands were on her. But this time, it felt different. Tonight, their time together felt different. Unhurried, and not urgent. “He’s beautiful. Just like his owner.”
“I would agree.” He sounded like he was suppressing a smirk, but when she turned he was offering his hand. “Let’s get you seated.”
“Me?” Her gaze flickered between him and the horse. “Are you sure?”
“If you’re too timid, he won’t let you up.”
“I did just see him try to bite you.” But she took his hand.
