The human attendants needed no convincing, and fled toward the corridors and courtyard. But then, the castle groaned, rooting them in place. Low at first, like something ancient stirring in its sleep.
Then arumble. Dust sifted from the rafters. Cracks spider-webbed across the chapel’s eastern wall, toward the back facing the courtyard.
A section of the wall exploded inward. No screaming or artillery couldbe heard—just the sound of the world crumbling. Stone shattered, just when a large wave surged across the flagstones, toward the pews.
Garin stiffened as Lilac shielded herself, the stench of sea filling the chapel and mingling with the heady incense.
Wind howled through the breach, thick with the reek of brine and rot—and through it stepped a tall figure with billowing, unbound hair. She was wet and naked, her lower half below her navel sinewed with pale-green skin wrapped in opalescent scales that shone purple and green.
She was laughing, the sound a nightmarish tide—and in a dripping, clawed hand, she held a shuddering mess of hair and coral, limping, straining to walk alongside her.
The Bugul Noz.
“I’m sorry, Your Highness,” he was whimpering, voice paced with pain. “I—I won’t do it again.”
“Well,” she purred, ignoring the creature, her melodic intonation catching Garin’s attention. “You’ve all madesucha mess.”
She flung the Bugul Noz aside, and he hit one of the pews with a sodden thud, sliding to the floor, crumpled and twitching.
Garin turned to look over his shoulder, his garnet eyes disinterestedly catching the sea witch’s gaze before returning to her—but Lilac was already moving, driven by something deeper than instinct.
Her blood sang, her thrall’s strengthsurgingthrough her veins. If Garin was made stronger, faster—hungrier—through the curse of Kestrel’s deal… then so was she. Her limbs were not her own. The bond between her and Garin—the magic that chained her soul to his appetite—snapped taut like a wire and pulled.
Lilac ran, faster than human feet could ever carry her. She ran toward the outdoor opening just past the sea witch, but the bitch put her hand out, teal claws inches from her face as Lilac skidded to a stop.
“I don’t think so. Your owner’s that way, mutt.”
Lilac snarled and careened right, tripped over the old candelabra sitting in the corner and vaulted, slamming against the choir loft. Pain lanced up her side, but she climbed, feral and unthinking, her fingernails scraping, gouging into the brittle wood.
She was no longer herself. She hadn’t been in a long time, not fully.Thiswas a taste of it. This was what it was to let hunger drive her.
The thrall in her—whatever fragment of Garin’s cursed blood burned up inside her—dragged her up the beams like a creature born to fight and flee. She scrambled higher, effortless and sobbing, eyes wild, until she reached the rafters above the altar.
Garin snarled below, eyes locked on Lilac, his claws flexing. Bastion, lurking in the pews, suddenly launched himself toward him—but he was caught midair and flown backwards toward the altar, landing at Yanna and Isabel’s feet.
A thick wooden pole from the chapel rubble was embedded in his chest, blood leaking from his mouth. Piper grabbed him, dragged him up the stairs to the front of chapel where everyone else cowered, and yanked it out.
In the wreckage of the wall and courtyard, the sea witch watched the chaos unfold, dusting her hands, eyes half-lidded and amused. She strode forth slowly as water lapped at her heels. “Oh, my darling,” she cooed to Garin. “Albrecht, was it?”
“Garin,” he managed distractedly, blinking up at the queen.
Flames of green jealousy ignited in Lilac’s chest.
But by the time the sea witch spoke again, the hunger had consumed his expression once again. “Morwenn. Pleasure.” She tutted, studying him unabashedly. “AStrigoi, in the flesh. I was not expecting this—expecting you. My, you really do ruin everything you touch.”
Lilac crawled forth, snarling down, her own blunt teeth bared. “Leave him alo?—”
She’d slipped.
Lilac caught herself, clinging to the beam, breath ragged and limbs aching. Dust and old incense thickened the air as she hung above the altar, the chapel yawning beneath her. She swung a leg to pull herself up, but the wood began to splinter under her bare hands; she cussed, shifting her grasp, when an old, rusted nail slashed her wrist.
She winced and forced herself to look down, warm splatters of her blood hitting her cheek.
Garin stood motionless below, positioning himself, letting the drops stain his face. His claws flexed at his sides; horrified, Lilac glimpsed the struggle in him, the fraying edge where his mind ended and the monster began in watching her fight for her life.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and dragged his hand across his cheek, slipping his fingers into his mouth.
Garin moaned, a sound of desperate ecstasy.
