monsters, I mean.”
“I am able,” Lilac replied, again feeling the korrigans’ probing gaze prickling the back of her neck.
“Good. These vermin need to know that they’ve received my mercy this time. The next we cross paths, they won’t be so lucky. I’ve been searching for their kind the past few months; korrigans are elusive, but such a fun kill.” He chuckled at a fond memory. “One swipe of my blade will take three of their heads at once.”
Lilac pasted on an innocent smile. “All right, so you’d like me to tell them… What, exactly? That they won’t be so lucky next time?”
“Yes, yes precisely,” Sinclair said, stroking the struggling patch of hair on his chin. “Tell them, next time, they’re done for. That Sinclair Le Tallec says so.”
Lilac turned away to face the korrigans, momentarily grateful for the chance to address them due to Sinclair’s narcissism. Her vapidness faded into urgency. “Listen to me,” she said to Blitzrik, working to keep her voice level. “You’ll need to pack up your campsite and move.”
“But where?” Blitzrik asked almost angrily, still clutching his tiny sword. “We settled in just before the storm. The weather has been atrocious.”
“I don’t care. He says the next time he sees you, he will slaughter you all.”
Blitzrik’s shoulders rose and fell, nostrils flaring as he weighed his options. He finally lowered his wooden weapon. “Do you know him?” he asked, jabbing his sword in Sinclair’s direction. “That fellow has passed our warded campground before. His torso and weapon had been covered in blood—Darkling blood, from the scent of it.” He tapped the tip of his bulbous nose. “Is he a hunter? A Darkling hunter?”
Truth be told, Lilac had no idea what he’d been up to. She had maintained an intentional distance from Sinclair since their childhood meeting, only recently overhearing discussion of Sinclair stepping into his father’s position as duke and head of cavalry after Armand injured his leg in a carriage accident last winter. The transition hadn’t happened yet, but when it did occur, Sinclair would gain the resources and authority to destroy all of Brocéliande if he wanted to… Unless forbidden from doing so by the only other person of higher authority.
Her.
Lilac exhaled, highly aware of Sinclair’s expression of half wonderment, half revulsion in her peripheral. “He’s nobody. A mere boy, feighning to be a man. However, he is still dangerous to you—to all of you. Please listen to me. If you want to live, if you want your kind to live, you’ll do as I ask. Right away, as soon as we leave… Such is my command. When you set camp again, be sure to keep your wards up. Also,” she added, “as a kind favor to me, please don’t tell anyone you saw me here tonight. The word mustn’t get out.”
The korrigan chief threw her a hardened glare, and for a second Lilac thought she saw a gleam of mistrust. But then, he gave a resigned sigh, nodded, and turned to assist Aife and her mother with the pastries.
“That was fascinating.” Sinclair wrung the end of his belt. “Well? What did the tiny brute tell you?”
“He said,” Lilac began, thinking furiously, “that you are very merciful, and he is grateful.”
“Ha!” Sinclair sheathed his sword and spat toward the korrigan chief, now laden with pastries and trundling back to the campsite with Aife and her mother trailing close behind. They did not notice the spittle that landed behind their retreating backs—or if they did, chose not to react.
“I’ll behead the lot of you and stick your heads on spires throughout the forest as a warning for the hell storm to come once I adopt my father’s rank! That, I promise!”
“Oh yes,” Lilac said, clenching her teeth and walking to the riverbank to retrieve her sack and belt. She could feel Sinclair’s hungry eyes on her backside as she bent over. “They’re afraid. Quaking in their shabby little boots.”
He grinned eagerly and held an arm out to her.
Lilac looked at him reluctantly. Now for the hard part of her ingenious plan: thinking of a way to keep him distracted without doing the one thing that would surely distract him. Time to play tired, innocent damsel. She was always tired, and well—innocence was a piece of pie to feign.
“So, are we going back to the castle tonight?” She felt certain he would have his own campsite set somewhere near. Night was falling quickly now.
“If you wish, my sweet. Although, I have another idea.”
It was true that