tell me, just what are you doing here, Sir Garin? And—” She hiccuped. A lump caught unexpectedly in her throat, hampering the delivery of what she thought was a clever reply. She busied herself with taking a seat at the edge of her mattress, smoothing her gown and remembering how close she had come to losing him in the dungeon.
“How?” Her voice broke when she looked up at him again. It was all she could manage.
“Magic,” he said simply.
“The Witch of Lupine Grotto,” Lilac guessed.
His only answer was a smile that barely reached his eyes.
She fiddled with the silk drawstrings on her robe, distracted by them all of the sudden. “What became of her? Is, erm… Is that where you were the past few days?”
Garin laughed. “With her? No, heavens no. I was taking care of business at the Inn. The old hag seemed disappointed I was alive, and Lori almost wrung my neck. But my barkeep position is still secured so…” He cleared his throat, stuffing his hands in his pockets again. “But no, Adelaide disappeared after we broke out of the dungeon. She’s around. Somewhere.”
Lilac’s surge of suspicion was instantly blotted with gratitude. Regardless of the past, she couldn’t hate the witch now. “Well,” she remarked with a clear of her throat. “Love is quite a powerful thing.”
“Forgiveness,” he corrected. “Forgiveness is powerful. And a small golden fruit, apparently.”
Lilac’s eyes widened. “Was it a golden berry? So, what, she wished for you to walk in sunlight, and it just happened?”
Garin glanced at her sideways. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. She threw one of her exploding saliva vials at my cell, and the next thing I knew, I was free. We had nowhere to escape within the dungeon halls, at least without the guards cornering us again—and the first floor of the castle teemed with sentries dealing with the kitchen fire, so we were forced outdoors. I was sure I’d perish, then.” He smiled to himself, as if remembering the miraculous moment. “But I didn’t. Then, I found priest Liege.”
Her eyes bulged. She’d never stopped to think of what’d happened to the actual priest.
“Don’t worry,” Garin laughed. “I entranced him. He thinks he’s the stable hand for now.”
Lilac nodded gratefully. Tiredly. It all made sense. Kind of. For now, she was just thankful to have him here.
Suddenly dizzy, she scooted back further onto her bed. The memories of Brocéliande were overwhelming. It was like she’d escaped to another world entirely. She might need a week or two more for it all to sink in. Or a lifetime.
Garin reached into his pocket and produced a small white object—Kestrel’s note. “Well, now that you are queen, I can open this old thing.”
She recalled the faerie king telling him it would reveal the answer to something he’d wanted to know. In their urgency to distance themselves from the madman as quickly as possible, Lilac had forgotten all about it. “You haven’t read it yet?”
“I thought I’d give it a few days. He’d warned that if I opened it before you were officially coronated, it would self-incinerate.
I didn’t feel like testing it. Not with it stored here, anyway,” he added, tapping it against one of his trouser pockets. “Right, then. Ready?”
“I suppose.” She blushed. “But you don’t need to open it in front of me, if you don’t want to.”
“There’s nothing left for me to keep from you, Lilac.”
The open solemnity in his eyes made her look away. “That’s fair,” she mumbled. “What do you think it says?”
“Well, it’s from Kestrel, king of lunatics. Who knows? To be completely honest I thought it was going to tell me something about Adelaide,” he admitted. “For years I’ve searched, for no reason other than my wish to apologize and explain everything to her. So, it could be just that. Or, it could involve Laurent.”
In all the commotion, she’d forgotten that it was Laurent’s death that indirectly led to them meeting in the first place.
Garin plucked the seal off and unfolded the piece of paper. His expression remained unreadable.
“And?”
At first the vampire didn’t answer. He ran his fingers through his hair. Then, he crumpled the parchment into the smallest ball he could and flicked it into the fireplace. “It was the duchess’ name. Vivien, right?” He scowled disbelievingly.
“Yes, that’s her. But what does it mean?”
“Nothing I haven’t already speculated,” he said distantly into the flames. “At the same time I would’ve never expected her, but her husband, instead. The bastard’s hunted me for