Lilac asked him where he’d found it. It seemed an innocent enough question that wouldn’t upset him or trigger any specific memories, but her heart sunk when she looked over to see his unkempt eyebrows knitted. The way his hands tightened on the reins. Lilac told him gently that he could trust her, that he could certainly keep his newfound pet and that they could discuss it more over a warm bowl of Lorietta’s potage. This instantly made his eyes soften.
Apparently, Giles had acquired her—she didn’t have a name, so he decided in the moment to call herBisousig—near the import stores on the eastern wall of the bailey after noticing her flouncing after the mice. This made sense, since the rodents could have come from any of the incoming agriculture, certainly the shipment boxes from the shore.
When they fell into silence again, Bisousig purring against her belly and licking its paws, Lilac fought the urge to ask him about Garin, curiousabout the terms of their own entrancement. However, she refrained, fearing any mention of Garin might cause his spell to break.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to.
“You look lovely tonight, Your Majesty,” Giles said with a nervous clear of the throat, probably eager to change the subject. “Are you off to see Mr. Trevelyan?”
Lilac turned, surprised Garin would’ve given him his surname. “Yes. I mean, I wanted a night at the tavern. If he happens to be there, then so be it.”
“But Mr. Trevelyan is there every night, working,” he replied matter-of-factly. Then he made a face, backtracking. “Erm.Mostnights. On the nights he doesn’t spend at the castle. Those days, he’s working at the bar in the mornings, and Lorietta takes nights.”
They rolled along for a bit before Lilac turned to glance at him. Giles, who was staring straight ahead, spared her a brief look before he smiled, his eyes seeming sharper tonight in the bright orange-green light.
Lilac shifted in her seat, suddenly nervous about what he might know—what he might expose about Garin that she wouldn’t necessarily want to know. It wasn’t her business, after all. She considered telling him the vampire hadn’t done so since a week after her ceremony, but decided to keep her mouth shut as a wave of anger hit her like a brick. “He doesn’t spend nights at the castle,” she finally spat, feeling her face climb with color.
The coachman leaned his head back against the carriage, his brow furrowed. “Ah. Perhaps I made a mistake in saying?—”
“Saying what?” Giles only groaned at her grating tone, but she couldn’t help herself and pushed further. “Well? Where does he spend his nights out if not with me?” The words tasted so bitter on her tongue, tinged in regret and an emerald jealousy.
“On your balcony,” he sighed. “He watches over your bedchamber.”
Lilac startled, then yelped when the cat dug its claws into her thigh at her sudden movement. The horse shook its head and snorted.
Giles uttered a noise of comfort for the animal, his eyes widening as they fixated back on the road. “In that case, he doesnotdo that. He positively does not sit on your balcony with his back to the stone, just out of sight and concealed by your curtains, staring up at the stars and thecanopy of his home.” He glanced sideways at her again. “And, when he’s bored, Mr. Trevelyan certainly doesnotclimb down to the stable with stolen drink and plates of bread and fruit from the stores to have a chat with me.”
Silently, Lilac stared ahead at the now looming building, its windows and rooms aglow as they rattled and clomped into its shadow. She didn’t know if she believed Giles. He easily could have been entranced, trained by Garin to gain back her favor.
“He is a generous friend,” Giles said thoughtfully after some time. “He watches over you like a dragon does its horde of gold.”
Lilac’s throat was dry when she finally replied. “Do you know if he’s been there the past couple nights? Since you and I have been home?”
“No, Your Majesty. He hasn’t.”
Lilac was silent the rest of the way to The Fenfoss Inn.
This time,through the window, the main room appeared like the first time she happened across it. There were silhouettes of a moving crowd; the sounds of uproarious laughter and the jolly picking of a mandolin floated through the still night air. Loïg was tethered, grazing in the grass just past the stable. Her horse looked up, gave a snort of acknowledgment, and returned to munching on clovers.
She stood as soon as Giles pulled into the driveway, an almost unpleasant excitement seeping its way into her bones. She ignored his warnings and shoved Bisouig back into his arms before climbing out and jumping down onto the cobblestone.
Lilac smoothed her dress, pulled her corset down slightly, and asked Giles to meet at the front door after he’d parked. She’d worn a new perfume tonight, one her mother had given her years ago that she’d then thought made her feel old. Tonight, she didn’t mind it. This one headier, with notes of musk and vanilla, the scent filling the air as she began to sweat.
Just as she reached for the knob, the door swung open. It was Adelaide, her black hair thrown into a tight, high bun, her cheekbones flushed, andthe skin under her eyes primed in a new wash of dark glitter. She scowled at the sight of the queen. Then, her glassy eyes grew wide.
Lorietta craned her neck from the iron-bead curtain behind the bar, which was full of korikaned and several magic folk. There were a couple human-presenting patrons present she hadn’t seen before, both men and women. Either donors or shifters, she thought distractedly, probably less surprised to see them than she should have been. Some turned in their stools to look her way.
No faeries were among the crowd tonight. Neither was Garin.
“You’re here,” Lorietta said, sounding equally shocked and relieved. Then, her face twisted into the same mask of concern Adelaide wore as she finished pouring a waving Blitzrik his drink. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Lilac moved to pass Adelaide, but the witch continued to block her path.
“Where’s Garin?” Lilac asked.
“Not here,” replied Adelaide.
Lorietta gave the other witch a pointed stare. “Adelaide.”
