Lilac looked down and spotted the rapier handle her heel rested against. She grabbed it, prying the handle from the man’s still-warm fingers. He whined again at her touch, this time louder. She held her breath and placed the tip against the middle of his back, forcing herself to think of the chateau courtyard and sitting upon the warm grass with Piper, counting the ducks and clouds as she exhaled—and sank the blade into him. All the way through.
His moaning tapering off.
Despite the abrupt ceasing of the man’s wailing, it didn’t seem anyone in her father’s party was willing to go see what it was.
“Don’t mind the dying. Say nothing of this,” Henri demanded. He sounded nearby, just outside the trees. “Nothing. Understood?”
The other voices murmured in agreement.
Henri grunted, and she knew from the sound he had mounted his horse. “We’ll head back and arm the castle. Mark it, the forests just northwest of Montfort-sur-Meu on the map.”
“Yes, sir.”
Henri cussed into the wind. “Barnabaz, ride into town to warn them, then head to Rennes and do the same. Right away. Cadwethen and I will go back to the castle, where we’ll ready the ceremony and send word to Austria.”
Lilac’s stomach dropped. Her ceremony wasn’t for another two days. More guests would start arriving between tomorrow eve and the morning of her coronation.
“But what of the festivities?” said Barnabaz.
“Has she officially accepted?” Cadwethen asked, sounding shocked.
“It doesn’t matter. François will eventually send more and more of his men.”
“Sir,” Barnabaz said. “Might I rally the towns’ militias? I can direct them to the castle.”
“There’s no time. I imagine these soldiers were headed for Rennes with an ambush planned. Paimpont is next. Then, the chateau—then, the coast. They won’t stop. We only have enough time as it takes for them to realize their leading frontline have been torn apart. We don’t have enough bodies to protect the towns,andaid in our preparation. They’ll have to hold their own.”
“Maximilian won’t send his men for us until Lilac is married,” said Barnabaz gruffly. “It’ll take weeks.”
“Iknowwhat he will and won’t do. What matters is that she is his husband—the moment it happens, that and that alone should be enough to dissuade him from advancing. And she will accept his hand if I have the last say.” There was a brief silence; the afternoon was mild, but Lilac shook as the finality of her father’s affirmation rang through the trees. “Well? Let’s not stand here and twiddle our thumbs. We must fortify the castle and alert the others.”
“And what of the vampire, Your Grace?”
The three of them waited with bated breath as Henri considered. “He is the least of my concerns,” he finally grunted. “For all we know, he and his warlock are on their way back to Vienna. I—I don’t know.” His voice dropped so low, Lilac strained to hear. “There will be no more public word of Lilac’s marriage, the timing of her ceremony or lack thereof, until the ink is dried on paper and any oath is spoken. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” they answered in unison.
“Good. Onward.”
Then, they were off.
No one dared speak a word; Lilac’s shoes were soaked in warm blood, and they didn’t move a muscle until the sound of Henri’s and Cadwethen’s voices and the pounding of hooves were heard no longer.
She peeked around the trunk and watched her father and his companion gallop past the distant dip in the hill.
“We have to find him,” Lilac said, picking her way over the corpses, wiping her brow and probably smearing Myrddin’s and the stranger’s blood further. “Garin’s injured.”
“He will heal, as he does from all mortal wounds,” said Myrddin lightly. “Your Majesty, shouldn’t we return to meet your father?”
She glanced over her shoulder, leading them out of the trees. “He needs our help. Something’s not right.”
They emerged, overlooking a vast swath of hilled moor. The sun would set soon, and while Myrddin’s magic could surely take care of lighting, they had no indication of where Garin was. According to Henri, they were just outside of Montfort-sur-Meu; Rennes was directly west. Paimpont and the bulk of Brocéliande were just beyond that—a few hours’ travel southward on a galloping steed.
Garin was probably headed back in that direction, but there was no way to be sure. Dread tore at her insides. She’d never felt so lost. With France encroaching, they needed to find him. They needed to move.
“Can we try again? Can you teleport one more time?”
Myrddin gave Lilac a worried grimace. “I can try, but it may not work and it definitely won’t feel good. I haven’t teleported this many times in a day, let alone the week, for averylong time. I’m afraid of throwing us even further off path without ample rest.”
