grey face had turned purple. A single vein was visible above his bushy eyebrows.
As Sinclair faced the campfire, Lilac tried to catch Blitzrik’s eye, frantically shaking her head and patting the air in signal for him to take things down a notch. If provoked, Sinclair would kill him where he stood, without blinking. It wouldn’t take much at all.
Blitzrik finally met her gaze. “Princess,” he cried. “You won’t let this man harm us, will you?”
Lilac’s face drained. He totally missed the signal. And here she thought she might actually get out of it without Sinclair recognizing her. She steeled herself, preparing for Sinclair’s reaction.
But Sinclair only shifted his sword from Aife to Blitzrik and shouted. “He’s yelling. Mademoiselle, he’s shouting at us! That’s a-a known act of aggression! Why, quickly gather your belongings and mount my horse. Mount it with haste!”
Frowning at his word choice, Lilac realized something. He couldn’t understand the korrigans the way she could. Still, she was in no rush to obey Sinclair’s direction. Hesitantly, she looked down at Aife and her mother, who in turn watched her face carefully for cues. They didn’t understand a word Sinclair spoke; as expected, they looked terrified, and Aife kept stealing nervous glances at Sinclair’s sword.
Lilac grimaced. There was but one surefire way she would be able to convince her unwelcome savior to leave the poor creatures alone.
With a deep breath and square of her shoulders, she slinked slowly toward Sinclair. “Pardon.” She hesitated before placing her palm as delicately as possible on the back of his neck, as she’d seen her mother do many a time when her father was distraught. As she’d hoped, his shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. “I am so grateful for you coming to rescue me,” she said softly, though the words stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“It is my honorable duty, Mademoiselle,” Sinclair said. “Now, I must slay this foul beast. You needn’t watch this, so shield your eyes if you must!” As he spoke, he raised his blade high above Blitzrik’s head.
Lilac cursed and flung herself between them, her hood falling back as she did. She threw him her coyest smile and allowed the cloak to drop even further, exposing the tops of her shoulders above the stitching on her dress.
“Woman, what in the bloody hell are you—” He stopped, blinking in the shadows. “Lilac?”
She bit the inside of her lip to stop herself from grinning too widely at Sinclair, hoping the look would pass as coy flirtation. He gaped and lowered his blade.
His translucent skin turned the color of beets. “What on earth are you doing here? The entire kingdom is searching for you—though, my men and I have been the only ones brave enough to scour Brocéliande tonight… Never mind any of that. Allow me to first finish these monsters, and then we can chat.”
He readied his weapon, but the princess sidled even closer and looked up at Sinclair through her lashes.
“Sinclair, my sweet,” she insisted demurely, reaching to stroking his bicep with her fingertip. “We haven’t seen each other for nearly a decade. We were merely children then, but in the years since, I could not help but think of you.” Of how stupid and priggish you are.
Lilac watched his ego swell along with his chest.
“Is that so? All this time, I’ve been under a different impression entirely.”
He obviously wasn’t as dumb as he’d led on. Lilac wracked her brain for something more convincing to say; in all those years with her limited freedoms, she’d at least learned enough of persuasion and stealth to retreat to the queen’s rose garden whenever the tower grew too stifling. Romance, however, was an area she lacked experience with, and could not feign well.
She forced a smile. “Indeed. Now, you can waste your time on these useless korrigans,” she waved a dismissive hand behind her, “or, you could allow me to show you just how grateful I am.”
Each word left Lilac’s tongue like scathing iron, and she held back a gag.
“Grateful, you say?” The wolfish grin on his face widened.
“So grateful. You see, I’d gotten lost…” She looked around at the lush greenery, trying to think of the most idiotic thing that could lead a damsel astray. “Picking flowers. The bluebells here, they’re simply beautiful.”
“Ah, well. I shall fetch you a whole bouquet of them. Or, Enzo will do it for me—no matter. But I first must ask…” He cleared his throat, placing his fingertips together. “Can you truly speak to them? The