Lorietta leaned past her, into Myrddin, causing him to recoil into his beard as she jabbed a nail toward his chest. “We cannot have the queen enthralled to Garin Trevelyan, of all people. If you want to help, do what you should have this entire time. Convince him to come home and sever any existing connection between them before it is too late. Consider how difficult it was to keep her from him, and to keep him from leaving. She left the castle! We’re just fortunate he didn’t find her first, or that he didn’t end up at the keep gates. There must be a way.”
“There are very few ways to end the beginnings of a possible bond, however it was formed,” Myrddin said, politely shooing the witch’s finger. “One of which you’ve tried. The others, I don’t imagine will interest him in this moment.”
“Thanks toyou,” Lorietta said, shrill.
If the fear of thralling her or the mere possibility of a blood bond was preventing Garin from wanting to see her, be with her, then she would prevent it. Break it. She would do anything.
“How?” Lilac asked. “I’ll do it.”
“These methods involve great sacrifice and must involve both of you, except for the most obvious: death of the regnant.”
“No,” Lorietta and Lilac said in unison.
He squinted, then turned to Lilac. “Have you ever considered the benefits of a regnant-thrall companionship? There can be certain powerful attributes in?—”
“I will banish you from my property forever, make it invisible and inaccessible to you, Myrddin,” Lorietta threatened, shaking a fist at him.
His brows rose, considering. “If I help, do I get free drinks for life?”
“You’re immortal,” Adelaide pointed out.
“Exactly. Either way,” replied the warlock, sidestepping a fuming Lorietta, “the first step is to get Garin back.”
“Youwere supposed to bring him back—why couldn’t you have teleported him and Bastion here?”
Myrddin scratched the back of his neck. “Erm. Garin, at the moment, isnot accessible. I must take her to him. I will return them both in one piece.” Myrddin held his hands out toward them again, forcing the witches to back away. “One touch and you’reallcoming with me.”
Lilac glanced back at Lorietta, who looked like she had half the mind to swing at him. She gave Lilac a warning glare as Adelaide watched, wide-eyed. Adelaide looked at the queen from over Lorietta’s shoulder and gave one minute nod of approval.
Without a second thought, Lilac slammed her palm into Myrddin’s. There was a jerk behind her navel, and the world began to spin.
13
Unlike Kestrel’s method of portaling, Lilac’s feet never truly left the ground. This was worse. She swallowed part of the dinner burped in her mouth and couldn’t help but close her eyes tight, her fists balled. As the spinning slowed, she became aware of other sensations—Myrddin’s hand clamped firmly around her forearm, her palm wrapped around his. The smell of musk, sweat, and long worn perfume. A steady thumping and strumming that grew louder every second. Suddenly, the spinning stopped altogether as the sound of drums and strings and flutes filled the dank air, and she lurched when they stopped; her vision began to adjust to dim light, and she couldn’t help but shout in panic for the warlock, who yelped in anguish somewhere near her head.
Disoriented, Lilac shifted onto her elbows and realized she was laying on something soft; she blinked in the dappled dark, and found herself partially wrapped in Myrddin’s royal blue robes. He shouted again, muffled this time—beneath her. She abruptly righted herself, turned and opened her mouth to apologize, but gasped as a set of hands and back of a head appeared before him, roving up Myrddin’s thighs as he, too, sat up.
They’d landed on an alcove with a large chaise, which was filled with limbs and mouths, some faces adorned in glittering masks. Someone’s wet mouth grazed her earlobe, and she shrieked; there were bodies, both fullydressed and naked,everywherearound them—very much alive, grinding and brushing into them. Myrddin sat between two women spilling out of their corsets and the glistening, shirtless gentleman kneeling in front of him. One of the women and the man wore masks beset with glistening beads and feathers.
“N-no thank you,” the warlock said, his cheeks pink. He held his arm out in alarm to Lilac. She sidestepped the man on the ground and yanked the warlock to his feet. He took a moment to gather himself, giving Lilac a moment to process the whimpering and groaning going on around them.
“Abrothel?” she shouted over the tantalizing beat, not caring who heard. The music at the front of the room drowned her out anyway. “Where are we? Where is he?”
“Rennes. The Fool's Folly.” Myrddin gave her a regretful smile, then pointed behind her at the nearby staircase. A pair of giggling women, both unmasked, nearly fell over themselves as they descended it.
Lilac stood on her toes, immediately scanning the room for an exit. All she saw was an upper floor. The glimpses of a long bar at the back of the room, several shirtless barkeeps behind it. Beautiful masked women carrying trays of food and drink. A stage.
Her vision was then blurred by the tears stinging her eyes. “Why did you bring me here? I thought he wanted to see me.”
“It is rather complicated,” explained Myrddin, dipping his head in apology. “At the moment, he does not want to see you, Your Majesty. But he doesneedyou.”
She didn’t know what to say. Previously, the thought of him alone with a donor made her feel uneasy, but the thought of him drinking from—in bed with—another woman filled her every pore with the searing heat of jealousy.
“He can have his whore,” she spat, envy flooding her.
The warlock made a little sound and poked a finger in the air. “Er,whores, which was the point of this excursion.”
Blinded with anger, Lilac grabbed him by the front of his robes with one hand, and the next moment, her dagger was in the other. She held it in his face.
