“Oh?” His brows rose mockingly, humming, as if he’d considered something new. Lilac moved to pass him, but his arm shot out, catching around her waist.
His lips grazed her ear. “Do you truly think I would hesitate on an invitation to snatch Henri and Marguerite’s precious daughter from right under their noses? Do you think I give a bloody fuck about France? The only stake I have in this is Brocéliande. François would do what your family never had the heart to and burn all of the woodland in the Argoat to ashes.”
She pulled back, glaring. “Brocéliande is your only stake?”
“Stakes involve shared interests. I don’t share what is mine.” His voice had dropped to a seductive whisper, and she was forced to look away. She did—down at the dagger glinting on the bed. “I will see you again.”
“When?”
“Give me one week at least. One week to ensure any magic in your system filters out in the absence of other arcana. And to make sure that any of this,” he said, eyeing her arms and fingers that had been so inhumanly nimble against his own reflexes, “is gone. Then, we will commence our Accords. Meanwhile, I’ll work on contacting Kestrel about his chest.”
Shedidshe feel like her heart would shatter at the mere thought of a week away from him.
She nodded curtly, but as she tried to move away from him, her chestached. She couldn’t get enough air. Her hands rose, letting the bag fall to the floor, fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt. She wanted to stay, between his storytelling, her hallucinations of the haunting, glimmering cathedral, and the dream of his sincere tenderness—the last thing Lilac wanted was to leave.
He surveyed her, and with every passing moment of silence between them, his expression smoothed into that calculated calm she’d grown toloathe.
In the back of her mind, she knew this wasn’t right. This was unlike her. Unbecoming, as Marguerite would say. She would not beg for his affections, would not make her yearning known more than she already had. She was far above it—or so she believed.
Maybe it was for the best. There was a kingdom to save, a greedy king to ward off. A powerful leader out there who might make a loving husband one day.
The thought immediately repulsed her, only driving her to look upon the bed again. She imagined slitting her palm and bringing her dagger, dripping, to Garin’s full lips. Staining his mouth in her, dragging the edge along his tongue. Watching as he slipped in and out of his mask of self-control.
Shewantedhim. She wanted him now and felt she always would. No matter what it took, regardless of the cost. But what she wanted most, more than anything in the world, was impossible with France at her throat, too.
Garin’s smile faded immediately as he eyed her. Before Lilac could react to his words, the air around him began to shimmer.
“Look at me,” he pleaded.
Lilac fought against the urge, but it was no use. Despite the unusual strength in her limbs, he was much, much stronger.
“Go home, Lilac. You will consider your options. And youwillmarry.”
11
“My,” came Isabel’s high-pitched voice, her ringlets tickling Lilac’s nose. “This powder is something else.” She was scrubbing so hard, she feared her skin might start peeling. “Are you sure there are no oils in it?”
“Yes,” Lilac snapped, her shame and tact long gone, only exhaustion and confusion left in her body. “That is because I am not wearing powder, nor oils, as I am reminding you for the…” She counted on her fingers.
“Third day,” Yanna said from her perch on the end of the tub.
“Third day now.” She lounged back in the tub, leaning away.
“And your skin has a lovely flush about it. It is more even. How?” Isabel lost to her impulsive thoughts and swiped a finger down her cheek. Lilac swatted it away, equal parts glad and disappointed her burst of inhuman strength had seemed to fade quickly in the time since she’d left Garin, just as he said it would.
She’d been so blinded by anger that she hardly remembered what had happened after he’d entranced her. She remembered it in glimpses.
Bastion and Lorietta had escorted her out of the room as Garin sat at the edge of the bed with his head in his hands. They’d led her downstairs to the waiting carriage outside, where Adelaide sat in the innermost corner,complaining about being forced to accompany them, until Lilac began to yell expletives out the front window.
Lorietta then nudged a mug-shaped flask in her direction, and, too riled to fight anymore, she got one last, “You bloodsucking, big-eared coward!” out the carriage partition before gulping heavily from Lorietta’s proffered cup—milk and lavender tea, mixed with a powerful calming tonic, she was sure.
She’d spent the rest of the ride with her head on Lorietta’s shoulder, hiccuping through her tears. Even Adelaide couldn’t bring herself to make fun of her.
Lorietta had nudged Lilac awake as they rolled through the bailey gates; Lilac woke in terror and tried to brace herself, both palms on either wall, hooking her fingers into the lip of the windows and readying for the violent force that might expel her from the carriage. She fought to conceal her horror as, instead, she felt her fury shift, her refusal slowly turning to indecision, then consideration while the witches took their time in opening the carriage door.
Garin’s words, some of his first to her during their first meeting at the inn, echoed in her memory. Faerie ether, imbued in their arts and music, imprisoned one in their body. A vampire’s entrancement dealt with the mind, making its victim awillingslave.
Peeling herself off the seat, Lilac had cursed them both before stepping out, ignoring the astonished greeting by her guards already surrounding the carriage and stomping through the front doors of her castle. She barked an order for all in her party to be left alone and that they remain unhanded.
