It looked—and felt—so real. She gripped the sides of her stool.
Bog reappeared with a plate of bread, butter, and a jar of preserves. “For the beautiful bride, and”—he glanced sidelong at Garin—“her friend.”
She frowned, mouth open as the barkeep left them. “Why did he say that? Why would he think we aren’t together?”
Garin tipped the cup back, swallowing before answering. “That was delicious,” he said a little loudly, wiping a dribble from his mouth, then tearing and popping a small corner of the bread into his mouth. “Oh, he thinks we’re together. He just thinks I’m your paramour.”
Lilac glanced around, reddening but too fascinated with watching him eat to pay attention to his second remark. “How are you doing that?”
The bar was getting fuller now, several overnight denizens from the inn on the upper floor emerging, yawning, from the staircase at the back. Other newcomers shuffled through the front, some joining the group in the back corner. Some of them noticed her, their gazes lingering a bit too long.
“Chewing,” Garin answered through his mouthful. “Then swallowing.”
He said nothing more when a second bar hand appeared—a towering maiden—and left a small plate of cheese between them without a word. Her stomach growled, and she shifted in her seat.
Garin gazed out at the slowly growing breakfast crowd over his tankard, his shoulders slowly relaxing. They might have sat at Bog’s dilapidated bar, but he still looked like a prince who’d taken a wrong turn. Spoiled and a little dangerous.
They were just two people, two friends, enjoying breakfast together. One of them happened to be in a wedding gown. She remembered how easily she had assumed he was human, albeit a striking one. Was everyone here as fooled? Or had she just been easy prey?
Bile burned her throat as she watched Garin spread preserves over the piece of bread he’d plucked from the plate; she hadn’t even had any of Lorietta’s pottage and should have eaten on the way.
When he bit largely into the steaming rye and followed it with a corner of cheese, he looked more human than ever, a lock of his dark hair falling onto his forehead. “Blueberries in rye,” he said, his eyes rolling back. He examined the bread. “My God. I’ll have to tell Lorietta about this. An unorthodox pairing, yet entirely logical.” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Wouldn’t you say?”
Lilac couldn’t help but stare. “You… enjoy food, don’t you?”
“All of our senses are heightened. We enjoy every version of food as an indulgence. At least I do.”
“Won’t it make you sick?” she said under her breath.
He pushed it toward her.
She shook her head, annoyed. But her stomach rumbled loudly this time, giving her away. “I can’t.”
The corner of his mouth twitched as he turned his head and took in her dress. “Pity. We all crave things we cannot have.” Before she could reply with something scathing, he leaned sideways against the bar, eyes on her. But instead of the usual warmth in their depths, she saw only a taunting coldness there. “Did your parents prompt you to marry after that skirmish on the border?”
Lilac’s face turned heated, and she scooted closer to him. “Lower your voice,” she ground out. “It was not a skirmish. They were asked to leave and obliged. How did you hear?” Damn the loose mouths in her court. Had it been her father’s weak councilmen?
“What did you think would happen once you rose to power?” He snorted. “I would not be surprised if your darling mother includedwedding invitations in those coronation ball parcels she sent out last week.”
Feeling violated and nauseous, Lilac cleared her throat, smiling at the elderly couple indiscreetly staring as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She supposed posing as a man of the church, Garin heard all sorts of juicy tidbits, but she hadn’t thought that would extend to state secrets. She’d dismissed him, but not soon enough.
“She did not,” Lilac said, trying her best to foster calmness with all the eyes on them. Some from the corner table had started to stare, too. She placed her hand reassuringly on Garin’s knee. “There will be no wedding.”
He bent his head toward her. “You think they’ll stay away for long?” He tsked, eyes snaking over her form again. “You do make a stunning bride.”
His obvious insincerity took her by surprise. Did he think she’d hid France’s border testing from him on purpose? It had been pushed from her mind the moment she was with him again. Maybe she should’ve mentioned it to him in his room at the inn, but she’d been so distracted by everything else—by the Accords, and his hands and tongue.
Fuck.Was he hurt? Angry?
Either way, considering the condescending evident disdain with which the vampire regarded her now, he could go to hell.
Lilac tilted her chin. “I do, don’t I? One day, I’ll make a regal adornment on my betrothed’s arm.”
“Indeed.” His voice dripped with sarcasm. He looked around, seemingly unconcerned with the eyes his grating tone had attracted. He gripped her metal tankard and took a swig from it. “You’ll make a pretty gift to…” He waited expectantly. “Whom, again?”
A gift? Lilac stood, her stool toppling back with acrashand garnering several heads turning in their direction. She never expected this to be his reaction.
His long leg casually stretched out at her side, subtly boxing her in. “Come, now. Don’t I at least get to know who you’re marrying?”
