It was perhaps wise to keep one’s enemies, or allies suspected to live under a pretense, close. “What would they see if they came here?”
“Nothing. To them, all that fills this space is more of Brocéliande.They’ll walk right through it. Most of our human customers are people who never expect to find an inn in the middle of the woods or who aren’t hunting Daemons. They merely seek a reprieve from the weather or the law. The ones that find us don’t want us dead. Or even to bother us.”
“The Fenfoss Inn found me,” she remarked quietly. “It found me when I was running from everything.”
“You weren’t running. You were desperate for change, for solace. And you made it so. That’s probably why the Inn showed itself to you. Either that, or it didn’t consider you enough of a threat.”
Feeling overwhelmed, Lilac looked up, letting her head fall back. Much of the remaining natural light of dusk was blocked by the archway of greenery above, but the torches and a warm light ahead provided more than enough illumination. Past the carriage and the guard, the dim silhouette of the two-story building came into view.
Ahead, Giles’s excited shouting had finally settled, and the guard could be heard conversing back.
“You told me you’d come alone.”
Something in Garin’s words made her hair stand on end. “In what world would I ever be allowed to do that? Henri insisted I bring someone.”
“I’m glad you took his advice. You’re thinking of your safety. You should always have a means of protection—myself, or a guard at least—before you’ve learned to defend yourself.” Before she could ask, he scoffed, and there was an edge to it. “It’s important you know how if you’re going to be with someone like me.”
She was breathless at the thought of his hands on her. There was a pooling warmth in her cheeks that spread throughout her body at the sensation of his hardening length up her back. Garin cleared his throat and shifted himself off. Such a gentleman, despite everything. Lilac resisted the urge to arch into him.
“I picked that guard because I knew he was harmless.”
“We knowthat.”
She rolled her eyes. “What did you tell him earlier that he was so happy about? Before you entranced him.”
“I only entranced the fear out of him. I told him he wouldn’t be able to protect you from me, at least not with his current armory. I reminded him that ashwood is irritating to Daemons, but hawthorn is potentially lethal to vampires ifit gets close enough to our hearts, and so the arrows he shot at us are no more effective than splinters. Told him a hawthorn stake is his best bet against vampires”—he clutched the reins tighter against the outsides of her thighs—“and that is only if, by some miracle, he is able to get close enough. That often requires stealth of hand and blade, neither of which he has.”
She considered the mystery of Vivien and Laurent. “He’s new. He hasn’t had the same training as everyone else.”
“Your duke should have taught him in good measure. It’s a shame.”
Gritting her teeth, Lilac held her tongue. She wouldn’t mention it or argue now. Her irritation didn’t last long as they began to slow beneath the shadow of the building. As the path curved widely left, their party finally came upon what lay at the end.
The cobblestone turnedinto a half circular driveway that wrapped around the front of the inn, simple but large enough to host a five-horse stable on the right of the building. To their left, an array of clay pots were stacked upon a patch of mismatched bricks. Beyond that, in the glow of several lanterns containing green spheres of flame, were the makings of a small garden.
All familiar, yet not at all—and the stable and herb garden weren’t the most jarring details.
She moved to dismount the horse, using whatever part of the saddle she could grasp and nearly falling when her foot slipped; Garin, still seated, caught her by the wrist and helped her down. Lilac dusted herself off and made her way to the front.
The window to the right of the door where she’d once attempted to peek in was larger, taller, yet still covered by a maroon curtain, and below was a thick row of mint bushes lined with a thin flower bed of coppers, tangerines, and vibrant yellows. Marigolds.
The door before her was crafted in sun-worn redwood and inky iron; tonight, boisterous music did not float out from an ill-fitting frame, and the only sign readThe Fenfoss Inn, Established 1340.
The building was clean, free of the clumps of moss that had grown on it before, its minimal framework shining as if recently oiled. The window she’d jumped from to escape Garin was closed. Nothing was the same as she’d left it, and there was nothing to show of her stay there—except for two broken vines of ivy that hung between the side of the building and a nearby tree.
There were footsteps behind her; when she turned, Loïg was secured to the stable and Garin was approaching. He handed her the plump travel bag, which she hoisted over one shoulder.
“Are you ready?”
A wicked dread coursed through her. “I’m ready to do what is right and not have Kestrel’s threat hanging over our heads.” She glared up at his teasing smile, one he probably meant to be encouraging. “Though, I might have felt more prepared if I hadn’t seen two clearly entranced men drop dead in my Grand Hall today.”
A flash of humor crossed Garin’s face. Lilac opened her mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a scoff..
“Thisis where you work?”
The rest of the party had dismounted the carriage, and Giles and the guard were struggling to push it backward into the stable. With an annoyed glare at Garin, Bastion marched right toward them. His dark cloak swept the cobblestone, tied at the neck by a single rope over his dark tunic.
At the thought of meeting him at the Sanguine Mine and the bruise he’d left on her face, she dug her heels into the floor. She stared coldly at him.
