the hallway without another word. The sounds of clinking glasses and incessant chatter drifted up from downstairs.
“Thanks,” Lilac whispered after her. At least the witch didn’t entirely hate her.
Grinning to herself, she shut her bedroom door and stripped the old sheet and coverlet off the cot. She wasn’t too sure of the proper way to make a bed, since her servants had always fixed hers while she was downstairs at breakfast. She tried her best. In the end, she did away with both fitted sheets, laying the clean coverlet over the mattress and cocooning herself in Merle’s thicker and softer one.
She tucked her knees to her chest at the edge of the mattress and scooted back until she hit the pair of pillows, hard as rocks. There, she curled up. Her body was tired, but her mind raced as she considered the journey ahead. Twenty-four hours ago, she didn’t know how she’d face the entire kingdom at her coronation ceremony. She might have lost against the stupid bedsheets, but her enchanted forest survival skills surely surpassed that.
A soft sputtering alerted her that the fire left over from Merle’s recent stay had begun to die out. The charred firewood had imploded onto itself in tiny piles of ember and ash. She shivered as she stared into the fireplace, knowing the feeling of warm comfort would soon disappear with morning. Lilac imagined embodying the flames—becoming untameable, feral light. Chasing the darkness away, she could become something even the most sinister shadows feared.
Isn’t that what everyone in the kingdom wanted? A queen strong enough to fend off the dark?
Lilac exhaled sharply in attempt to dislodge the anxiety. She considered the barkeep downstairs. The only person she could trust was herself, she learned that when the entire kingdom, including her own parents, had all but shunned her after that night. After discovering something of hers she couldn’t help, especially as a mere child. She’d been alienated by the very people who were supposed to protect her. Make her feel at home. Overnight, her sanctuary had turned into a cage, and it took a witch’s bribery to give her the courage—or recklessness—to leave, she thought bitterly, fury building in her chest.
No. No, no, no.
But despite what her conscious insisted, something in her bones urged her onward. She was on a mission, but perhaps Garin would tell her a faster route to Paimpont. Plus, had she spent the night holed up in her chamber, she’d only consume herself in rumination anyway.
Hadn’t she had enough of that?
Something in the darkest part of her soul pulled at her, begged her to let go. To experience what it would be to feel truly human.
A quick drink wouldn’t hurt.
4
The pub downstairs still teemed with creatures when Lilac entered. She had opted for a plain green Flemish dress that barely covered her cleavage and fell to her ankles. It had absolutely nothing to do with meeting the barkeep; when she packed it back in her room, she’d forgotten how low the front sat. Though she hadn’t anticipated it, a tavern seemed the most appropriate place to wear it.
It was a few hours past midnight and probably closer to dawn, but no one seemed to notice or care. The crowd of creatures flocked around the korrigan bards near the hearth. One of them sang and swayed to a folk song while the others had replaced their prior instruments for the pipes and a golden harp, which towered over the one playing it. Their haunting variation floated throughout the room and sent chills down her arms.
Garin was nowhere to be seen, and she felt a disgustingly strong pang of hurt. Maybe he’d left. Maybe his invitation wasn’t serious to begin with. That was a rite of passage to womanhood, was it not? Now that she was technically just a commoner, why did she think it’d be any different? He’d stood her up. That was that.
Two newcomers—a couple—canoodled at the bar, where a middle-aged witch had taken up the duty of drying the glasses.
“Good evening, child.” The new barkeep spoke with a wink, hazel cat eyes aglow under a fierce mane of curls. “My name is Lorietta. I’ll be serving you this evening. Now, what will it be?”
“Good evening,” Lilac replied, taken aback by the woman’s unexpected kindness. Fishing into her coin purse for a couple of gros, she chewed on her lip. “Mmm… I’ll have a glass of Bordeaux.”
The witch gave a booming chuckle. “They don’t take too well to your kind here,