“I’ll see you again. Get you the book. Be ready to run,” the Bugul Noz urged. “Or swim.”
Before they could ask, the door opened?—
And the flood followed. A rush of cold, blinding pressure swept them out—a wave that seemed wary of the sacred space of the creature’s sanctum of lost knowledge—and swallowed them whole. They were submerged and tugged violently up like ragdolls.
Lilac broke the surface in the courtyard pond, sputtering against the cold, the water warmer than the frigid night and screaming they emerged to.
Time had resumed. They’d rejoined the current.
There were shouts, and sounds of steel clashing against stone, horses neighing. The courtyard rang with chaos. Lilac coughed hard, spitting up water and still clutching the green tome, the Dawnshard still sheathed but vibrating wildly at her hip.
“François,” Garin shouted behind her, kicking and steering them to the slope, shoving her onto the bank and rising to his knees. “They’re already here.”
Soldiers in red, blue, and gold uniforms surged at the outer gate before them, jeering into the bailey between the bars. Her guards stood against them, blades at the ready, holding the line. More of them were on the ramparts, firing arrows straight down like harpoons. Four large cannons were pointed outward from the embrasures, haunting in the moonlight as more ammunition was wheeled out on carts from the armory entrance.
Loïg had broken free from the stable and was prancing warningly back and forth behind the rows of weapons.
Garin took Lilac’s hand, and they were off toward the entrance. “Don’t look,” he said. “Keep your eyes on me.”
Just inside the foyer, they barreled into someone, sparks of violet flooding their vision.
“Garin—Your Majesty,” Myrddin said hurriedly, picking himself off the floor. “I was coming to get you. Everyone’s ready in the chapel.”
“But the gate,” Lilac said, forced to look back; she had to. Those werehermen. Several of François’s soldiers had spotted and recognized her, pointing and laughing at her ridiculous soaked frame.
Garin growled and shoved her behind him, and they immediately fell silent at his appearance in the torchlight.
They turned toward the west wing corridor?—
But then the screams started, louder—not from within, but from the field beyond the wall.
Lilac squinted, and her vision swam.
Shapes blurred in the shadows of the early morning. Faster than human. Several figures, four, maybe five—moved like wraiths through the crowd. They tore through the French front line with surgical cruelty, pulling men away into the fog, blood splattering onto the gate and turrets.
Muskets began to crack in the air.
They’d beensavingtheir guns for the Daemons. The vampires.
“No—NO!” Garin screamed, lunging back at the door, but Lilac and Myrddin snatched him by the back of his vest and held firm. “Stand down! Retreat! Bastion, where are you—pull them back!”
But Myrddin took their arms, pushing them both toward the chapel. “Inside, the both of you.Now.”
Just then, another figure came jogging toward the entrance, right at them. Garin’s head snapped hungrily, and Bastion put his hands up. “Jesusfuck.”
“Where’ve you been?” Garin snapped.
“Having a nice shit in the outhouse—what does itlooklike I was doing? Grabbing your priest. Who else can marry her?” He was soaked in blood—surely not his own, his mouth was clean—Giles slumped, unconscious, over his shoulder. The Veiled Garnet glowed in the torchlight on his chest. “They’ll hold the gates, but only until dawn breaks.”
“The French are using hawthorn bullets,” Garin said, chest heaving.
Several maids’ eyes widened as they parted way for them, scurrying around the queen and her odd party as they turned into the hall.
“They know,” Bastion said. “They know.”
The chapel wasdim and trembling with distant artillery. Half adorned with flowers and finery, a corner of the room strung with banners and garland—as if their decorators had fled the scene mid-pin-up. Guests sat rigid in the pews, wet from fog and terror, partially dressed, eyes wide and teeming with unanswered questions.
Henri and Marguerite’s former court were among them. Helena and Gertrude.
