arrows, their barbs deeply embedded in his flesh. Had they been the normal Birchwood arrows the kingdom often used, he would’ve pulled them out and laughed in their faces by now. These were different.
Blessed Hawthorne bark. Harmful to Darklings, but deadly to vampires.
Lilac writhed away from the frigid blade pressed against her skin, but in an instant, it was replaced by one of the calloused hands that constricted her.
“It’s her!” A tinny ringing filled her ears when Sinclair’s unmistakably boisterous tenor boomed from behind her. He pulled her against him, breath reeking of tobacco when his mouth brushed against her ear. “Your flagrant disregard for your kingdom has grown rather tiring, Miss Trécesson,” he whispered. Then, he shoved her down to her knees and put his blade again to her throat.
“You dare.” Forcing herself to stare ahead at the cottage, the deepening night grew glassy as she blinked the tears back. She refused to look at him as he circled her, his knife still pointed at her throat.
“Your unattended romp through the woods has extended the kingdom’s threshold of what is and isn’t acceptable quite considerably, dear Lilac.”
Adelaide gave an unintelligible shout from across the marsh, followed by a flowing string of expletives. Several fallen soldiers lay unmoving in the muddy bank, while a remaining trio of them encircled her. This time, they held flaming arrows at the ready. Adelaide held a sparkling glass bottle above her head threateningly.
“Throw another, and your entire hut goes up in flames, witch!” The soldier in the center pivoted to aim his bow directly at her straw roof.
Eyes bulging in the witch’s direction, Lilac cleared her throat repeatedly. Surely Adelaide, who haughtily ignored her, was powerful enough to spellcast—whatever it was called—the soldiers and Sinclair out of the way. But the witch remained oblivious.
“One of you,” Sinclair directed at the guards behind them. “Hold the girl.” He stepped away, allowing one of them to take his place.
The guard shifted apprehensively, wrapping his sausage fingers easily around the kneeling princess’ bicep. “Shall I tie her, sir?”
Lilac willed herself not to blink when Sinclair placed himself in front of her, bending as if she were a child whom he wished to look in the eye. His, to her horror, lacked what little sanity they’d shown before. His prized platinum hair had gone awry, ends sticking out sideways like a haystack that'd been bleached of color.
“What do you think, Your Highness?” he murmured unblinkingly. When she didn’t speak, he shook his head at the sentry. “I doubt the bitch would be so stupid to try to run from me twice, now that the abomination isn’t here to help her.”
“How did you find me?” Lilac spat through her teeth.
“When Renald failed to report, the guards went to his assigned area and followed the breadcrumbs to a lovely little farm out east.”
Lilac’s pulse accelerated, but she held her jaw steady as Sinclair studied her reaction. He couldn’t know Sable and Jeanare had assisted them, hosted them for a night. They’d be executed on the spot.
“On the way to resume our search in Paimpont, we noticed strange lights out in the marsh. You can thank the hag for that.” He rested a cold, calloused hand upon her cheek. “It led us here, and now we’re together. All just in time for coronation, then our own little ceremony.”
“Never.” Revolted, she jerked out from under his touch.
“Men,” he barked behind her. “Bring the prison wagon ‘round. And make sure those arrowheads are buried in the bloodsucker, then get him and the witch secured in the wagon. Make haste!”
Two sets of footsteps tromped away—more guards at Sinclair’s command.
Adelaide stomped and screeched, protesting shamelessly from across the marsh. “Take them and leave me be,” she yelled. “They were paying customers. I want nothing to do with them, or the lot of you.” Like a caged animal, she bared her teeth at the encircling soldiers. “I’ll find your wives and enchant them to eat your children!”
Sinclair ignored the exasperated glances that the archers threw his way. A horse-drawn carriage with iron-barred windows rolled by and halted next to Adelaide’s hut. “Take her,” he commanded. “We’ll release her once the ceremonies are over. If she’s cooperative in her interrogation, that is. It would be so helpful, for a husband to know just what tends to make his beloved stray.”
The two guards from the wagon hopped down and drew their swords, creating a tighter circle of five around Adelaide. Helpless and outnumbered, the witch’s gaze flitted between