her words had only increased. Finding and meeting Freya’s sons would make her feel terrible, gut-wrenching things—of that she was sure. But sooner or later, it would need to happen. She owed it not only to Sable, but to herself.
Sable didn’t reply until she reached the porch. When she turned back, all traces of kindness had faltered. “Man's fire is what brought this forest to ruin. But only fire can make it whole again.”
23
After the door closed behind the old woman, Lilac stole one last glimpse at the original Trevelyan farmhouse. Briefly, she wondered what it would be like to retire from society on that porch. To hide away, a farmer’s wife. A simple life, lived not under the pretense of perfection, nor stifling poise of high society. Above her now, the same pinprick tinsel asters winked from the deepened gloaming.
Then, she remembered who the property had belonged to and scowled. Without a single word she strode past Garin as he stroked the horse’s snout, and made her way down the dirt path.
When he didn’t follow, she pressed on, using the forward momentum to distract her from the whirling thoughts. Despite Sable’s unwavering kindness—or maybe because of it—Lilac wanted nothing more than to get on with the last of their journey. But Garin couldn’t be more wrong. She didn’t want to be loved like the Le Tallecs. The dislike she held for the family had turned into loathing during her journey. Considering their beliefs against the creatures of Brocéliande, they were no different than her own parents. Worse, even. But the terrible actions based on those beliefs were what set Sinclair’s family drastically apart. The king and queen had only become more outspoken against the creatures since her incident with Freya, and much of their legislation might’ve even been inspired by the Le Tallecs’ infectious loathing—of that, she was almost sure. Sinclair and his father were ruthless in killing creatures every chance they could justify, and no one dared question it.
The last thing she wanted was to be like them. In any regard.
But her townspeople would never accept her as their queen with her curse in place. That was why she needed Ophelia.
So why, despite her dignified resolve, did each step further down the dirt road suddenly felt a smidge less certain?
The path eventually forked in two directions, so she halted. The path to the right wove through countryside, dirt stomped flat by the hooves of numerous workhorses. Squinting into the mixture of sunlight and dusk, Lilac could see that it led through the hills that made up the remainder of Sable and Jeanare’s property. In theory it would, based on the amount of travel evident in the dirt, pass right through the town.
The path to the left curved along the outskirts of the trees. A small wooden sign indicated this path led to Fenfoss Pond, which Ophelia’s letter had indicated would be near her home. By locating the pond, they should happen across the witch’s cottage with minimal trouble.
Then, they’d be on their way back in no time. It would be a long journey with no rest, but at least they’d be at the castle by morning. Then—
Then what?
Before she could decide, the muffled plod of hooves snuck up on her.
“Running away again, are we?” Garin halted beside her. “Come on now, princess. I think we both know by now how that plays out.”
The mare beneath him gave a satisfied harrumph.
“No. I’m not running from anything, Garin.” Her reply was almost defensive as she spoke to the fork in the road. “I’m just trying to figure everything out.”
Garin dismounted and stood beside her, arms crossed contemplatively. This time it wasn’t his wolfish grin that unsettled her. The creamy white and red uniform that Renald had worn rubbed her the wrong way—the man she had feelings for now wore the clothes of a man who she’d ordered to death.
The vampire squinted at her. He then sighed and pulled her into his arms. She resisted for a moment before feeling herself melt into him. She couldn’t help it. Burying a soft sob into his chest, she inhaled. His familiar scent washed over her, and whether it further deluded or cleared her mind, she couldn’t discern.
Behind them the horse scuffed its hooves.
Her eyes shut tightly, and she was unable to stop a shudder as his wry grin—and the perfect teeth behind them—pressed against her hair. “Princess.” He inhaled slowly. “Do you remember what I said to you last night?”
She gulped at the