Garin’s head slowly lifted. “Bring her back to me, and I’ll do anything for you.”
A maelstrom of irritation flashed behind her eyes, the color of swirling cognac in the sun. She looked down at Lilac, whose hair was backlit by the sun. A dark, smoldering auburn, made richer after theGuài’sdisillusionment arrow had struck her hand. Embers stained in the crimson rapidly spreading beneath her.
Eyeing him, Morwenn tossed her own long hair, golden brown as if the sun itself were imbued in its hue. Her sunburned pale-green throat smelled of the western shores. “It is not an exchange I offer, but?—”
“She cannot do it,” Myrddin was stepping through the cliff-sized hole in the wall. “Do not deal the queen’s life with her.” Part of his blue robes and pants were singed off, still smoking. In his hand, by the scruff of its neck, was the plump gray cat.
Behind him, Loïg neighed concernedly like a hulking shadow. They stepped into the hall, then, Myrddin, into the chapel.
Morwenn made a sound of relief. “Oh! Duchess, there you are.”
“I found her hanging by her tail from a rope about halfway down the flagpole,” Myrddin muttered. Bastion busied himself studying the carvings in the ceiling.
“And you are?” Morwenn asked, eyeing the newcomer with cautious fascination.
Most of the warlock’s ire had faded, leaving deep shadows under his eyes. He ignored her question and strode straight over to Garin, regarding Lilac as he spoke. “The vampires have extinguished much of the efforts at the south gate. They had armor on, for the most part,” he added, for Garin’s benefit. “Gwendal the fledgling helped them obtain it from the recently abandoned forge.”
Yanna choked a delirious laugh from their corner, Isabel violently shushing her.
“They retreated at dawn—I told them about The Fenfoss Inn. They should be there now.”
“Meriam must be thrilled,” Garin said numbly, but gratefully. He reached out and gripped Myrddin’s hand in a firm squeeze, and shook. “And the rest?”
“Injured, shaken. No losses of the coven from what I’ve seen, but there are a mixture of Breton and enemy bodies scattered outside, more the latter than the former. They can’t seem to find Kemble.” He blinked slowly, intentionally, at Garin. The rush of the night, the crippling hunger and raging lust that shook him, all felt like a distant, blood-soaked nightmare. Rupert was safe in the shadows, even as his mother remained. “So Hedwig is tending to them.”
There was movement at the back of the chapel. “We’ll help,” muttered Adelaide, also unable to take her eyes off the queen’s form.
“Go,” Garin said, his voice rougher than he’d intended.
They left for the opening, toward the courtyard. “There’s a ward over the castle,” Lori said when she passed. “It’s not ancestral, and only lasts as long as I’m here physically here, but outsiders would see no difference. I’ve covered the corpses, too.”
“I’ll reinforce it with my own protections, but that will deplete all of my arcana.” Myrddin coughed into his smoking sleeve, and the witches hurried toward the main keep. “It will take me a bit to recover from that, and I’m afraid I’ll prove useless to you and—” The warlock’s throat bobbed, and his eyes darted down at Lilac.
“You are never useless,” Garin said, his voice unintentionally rough. A pang of guilt hit him. “You’ve been an invaluable help, and friend.” He felt terrible for the next question he’d ask. “How long will that take? Your recovery.”
“Fora spell that size? Three moon cycles.”
Just then, the cat spun and scratched Myrddin in the face; he swore and dropped it.
Bisousig—Duchess—pranced right past Morwenn’s waiting arms, over Lilac’s lifeless body, up the steps and into Father Guillaume’s arms. The warlock swiped the wound off his face, and the priest scooped him up, cooing.
“Well.”Affronted, Morwenn put a hand to her chest and squinted, just noticing Loïg munching on a piece of kelp she’d trailed in.
“What do you want?” Garin demanded. “What is your offer?”
“The Isle of Ys has risen again,” she said simply, smiling at the instant recognition that flashed across his face. “The sea has given it back to me, my island kingdom—my drowned jewel lost to the abyss. I’ve been shackled to this plane for several decades, but Ys has been lost to the sea for far, far longer than that. It was broken into pieces by my father’s hand; he stole them, scattering them far and wide across the kingdom in his attempt to flee his failures.” Her suddenly glassy eyes drifted up to Bastion, then to Myrddin. Then, back down—with dripping disdain—onto Lilac. “I come not as an enemy, but as a petitioner. A hopeful ally to your cause. I need help exhuming my beloved kingdom, rebuilding from ruin and rubble.”
Garin blinked, warm tears forming, the rush of his slow heartbeat flooding his ears.
“I’ve already found a lovely clothier, but now I need to find someone to forge its bones. To hammer steel where coral grows. I seek a blacksmith.”
“I cannot help you. I’m the reigning Doyen of the Brocéliande Vampire Coven,” Garin replied coldly.
“Well, yes. I’ve heardsovery much about you.” A slow, salacious grin curved her lips. “You and the queen have already metMe Maouezed-Dour—my Belles of the Deep. My teeth beneath the tides.”
At the mention of the Morgen, Garin’s face blanched, his mask of composure faltering.
“When I was finally torn free from the forty-odd years I’d spent trapped in the godforsaken prison of your mortal realm—really no better than nine-hundred or so years sealed under the sea—” she continued, her tone darkening, “they were the first to speak of you two. The vampire and his princess,scrambling through Brocéliande together. They’d tried to trap you for me, knowing my reckoning was near.” She swallowed. “Before that? Only fragments. Glimpses. Memories snagged, just beyond the veil. But now I can rebuild.”
