tendrils of dark ivy clung to the rough siding. As expected with such proximity to the Low Forest, an unfamiliar array of exotic flora blossomed haphazardly in the unkempt grass.
Several of the plants at their feet shimmered, some reflecting the warm yellow light shining from the cracks along the bottom of the stout door. Three shallow steps, flanked on either side by a colony of glowing blue toadstools, led up to the entrance.
As Garin directed the horse around the muddy pond, Lilac’s pulse began to quicken. She was rightfully nervous—and ready to meet the witch, she thought, abruptly correcting her self-doubt. She tried not to think of what she was about to do. Garin halted them a short walk from the doorstep, leapt down from the horse, and effortlessly lifted her off.
Lilac paused and looked down at herself. Her clothes had dampened from the rain, and the skirt of her dress crumpled from riding.
“Ugh. How do I look?” She glanced up at him with a grimace, half expecting the disapproval he’d expressed during the ride to show evident on his face.
Instead, there was only a burning curiosity in his eyes—almost the same expression he’d worn while lecturing her for trying to stab him through the chest back at Sinclair’s camp, though much softer this time.
In a familiar gesture, he grabbed both of her hands, then bowed to press his lips to the back of each. She didn’t flinch away.
“Marvelous as usual. Like you were born to reign a kingdom.”
Lilac nodded warily, bracing herself for the chiding remark or warning glare meant to deter her plans with the witch.
But Garin only studied her.
Suddenly, Lilac was even more aware of her imperfections—the way her lips bunched up discontentedly on one side as she chewed nervously on her cheek, brows knitted above her deep-set eyes. The way shadows of perspiration had already formed under her armpits in the humid air. The further they’d gotten into their journey, the more sure of herself she’d grown—though, less certain of her resolve.
“If you say so,” she murmured, adjusting the sack further onto her shoulder and facing the cottage, whose smoke swilled invitingly. But then, she spun back on him, eyes bright and desperate. “Garin?”
“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he offered. “Your people will favor you as you are. They must.”
She only shook her head. “Please trust me to make the right decision for myself. I can’t fix my parents’ mistakes if I don’t become queen.”
“I know nothing of this witch,” he admitted, gazing past her at the cottage door. “There seems to be a spell up that keeps sound within those walls. And she lives right on the edge of the Low Forest.” He nodded toward the shadowed beech trees across the pond. Not even moonlight reached past the entanglement of thickly wound branches. “The kinds of ingredients she probably has access to, we just don’t know what kind of outlandish magic she’s tied up in.”
There it was. His fear was founded in his own experience with witches—understandably so.
Although his words were meant to instill caution, they stoked her determination, blotting the last of her self-doubt. She stood tall. “I have to do this, Garin. You can come in with me, if that would make you feel better.”
He clicked his tongue thoughtfully and gave a rough laugh. “I don’t think the details of her selfless invitation included bringing a vampire along.” He patted the horse’s rump next to him; the animal remained oblivious as it continued chewing on the cat tails lining the pond. “She and I will keep watch out here.”
Lilac glanced out into the darkness. Just past the cottage lay the main stretch of cobblestone road, filled with sentries. “Out in the open, like this? What if someone sees you?”
Before she could take her next breath, Garin snaked his hands daringly around the small of her waist. He kissed her tenderly.
“And if someone sees this?” she teased against his lips.
“I wouldn’t mind. But for you, I’ll make them disappear.” He stepped back. “Go on, then. Ophelia awaits.”
The finality in his voice made her uneasy. “What scares you?” she asked. It was a general enough question.
A desperate sadness had found its way into his eyes, into depths even his devastating grin could not reach. He reached up, almost hesitantly, to pluck a crumpled leaf from her hair. “Your fearlessness, princess, is what frightens me.”
In three steps, Lilac was in front of the door. Before she could knock, the door