days.”
Lilac blinked, taken aback at the sudden moisture in her own. “Well, don’t wait too long to eat them. Any longer than a day or two, and mold will grow.”
“Mold?” Both mother and daughter exchanged glances.
Lilac opened her mouth and shut it again. She should have known better. For the longest time, the creatures had struggled to feed themselves, she remembered as Freya’s face briefly popped into her mind. She’d foolishly spoken as if they’d have minded a bit of fungus; to the starving, food was sustenance. Molding or not.
“Not to worry.” She cleared the emotion from her throat. Her parents would never approve. If word ever got out about her decision, the kingdom might be driven to rally for her own execution. Yet, what kind of future ruler would she be to turn away anyone in need—especially of food?
“Oh, thank you, Your Royal Highness,” Aife cried, throwing herself onto Lilac’s lower calf while juggling the pastries. It was probably the only part of her body that Aife could wrap her arms entirely around.
Suddenly, the horribly familiar tromp of hooves beating upon the mud rang through the clearing, sending the band of korrigans scurrying back to the campfire. Aife started and dropped half the pastries, and her mother yanked her up by the arm before she could bend over to collect them. They hid behind Lilac, peeking out from behind her elbows.
No. No. It was the end of her journey as she knew it.
Sick to her stomach, Lilac spun, eyes darting between the nearby shrubs for a better hiding spot for the three of them.
It was too late.
She spotted it through the trees. A royal Camargue cantered towards them, its rider in a billowing robe emblazoned with the signature red and gold of the kingdom coat of arms.
“Steady… Whoa.”
The newcomer halted abruptly in front of Lilac. The steed whinnied and puffed out his chest self-importantly, his equine coat luminous against the roaring bonfire.
While the rider preoccupied himself with smoothing his shoulder length hair and unmounting the horse, Lilac hastily threw her hood back on. Swallowing her panic, she exhaled a string of expletives under her breath.
It couldn’t be.
It absolutely could not.
The young boy she knew from the Le Tallec soirée was no more. In his place stood a towering soldier, platinum hair silver and rippling in the moonlight. His rounded cherub face had thinned into boxy cheekbones and a jutting chin, though his stifling pride had evidently persevered through the years.
“Mademoiselle!” Sinclair said, offering an arm. Lilac could have imagined it, but he stepped gingerly, almost as if unable to put his full weight on his right leg. Knowing him, he’d try to hide even the smallest injury in the presence of a woman. “I mustn’t let these vile creatures harass you any further! Certainly not a lovely maiden such as yourself.”
He didn’t recognize her. Keeping her chin tucked, Lilac pretended not to see his outstretched gloved hand. Unsure of how her unfortunate ability worked, she prayed her impromptu lies wouldn’t come out in the Darkling Tongue
“I was only passing through to get a drink of water,” she directed at him with her head down and a gesture toward the river. “I was so thirsty that I failed to take notice of their camp until after. They were not doing me any harm.”
She heard Sinclair draw his sword from its sheath as he positioned himself between Lilac and the camp of trembling korrigans. Aife and her mother still stood beside her, trembling against the trunks of the princess’s legs.
“What have we here?” His proud voice rang through the tight clearing, and Lilac chanced a look up from under her hood. Sinclair eyed the sweets in Aife’s arms and the rest which had fallen beside Lilac’s sack. “Ah! Stealing from the damsel, I see? I hold no mercy for thieves.”
Without regard for the child, he pointed his blade downward. The tip of his sword came to rest just centimeters from Aife’s round nose.
“Don’t!” Lilac and Blitzrik shouted simultaneously. Lilac took a step forward and Blitzrik had leaped out from his hiding place, behind the nearest tent.
Sinclair blinked at the appearance of Blitzrik. The rest of them had retreated into their tents, but Lilac could see a couple peeking out from behind the entrance flaps. Their chief stood guardedly between Sinclair and the campground with what looked like a makeshift wooden sword.
“Don’t you dare touch them. Don’t you… That is a mother and child. Remove your blade from them this instant!” Blitzrik’s