implied exactly what she’d feared. There were strict laws in place preventing witches and warlocks from practicing acts of powerful, darker magic. So if they’d been portaled—and they certainly had—it was obviously outlawed. And the Fair Folk didn’t give a damn.
Kestrel dodged his inquiry again. “Curious how you dare question me, when it was me who summoned you.”
Garin was across the room in no time, gripping both sides of the fox fur shawl that wrapped Kestrel’s throat. “Answer me,” he hissed. “Or I’ll choke you with your own garments. What is this infernal place? When you sent your men to find me, I’d agreed to talk—on the grounds that we remain in neutral territory. And my brother—”
“Lidnaat. Taniot,” said Kestrel warningly. Unconcerned with the snarling vampire at his neck, he swept a hand downward, motioning for the pair of guards behind Lilac to lower their arrows.
With the patience of a parent talking to a small child, Kestrel plucked Garin’s fingers off his garment neatly, one by one. Above them, the audience gasped.
“We’re still in Brocéliande,” he said with a wry smile. “Just in an area you are less familiar with.”
“You brought us to the Low Forest.” The vampire eyed Kestrel as he retreated to position himself once again in front of Lilac. “You can’t just—”
Unmoved, Kestrel’s smirk widened into a watchful grin. “I would heed caution in telling me what I can or can’t do, vampire.” The word dripped poison.
Garin ran an exasperated hand over his face. “Then, why are we here? And why is Bastion here?”
“Ah, finally you ask the right question.” Kestrel’s tapered ears wiggled in delight. “You see, your brother is just as guilty as you are.”
“Guilty?” The incredulous voices of both brothers bounced off the weathered stone walls.
“Guilty indeed! Guilty of harboring a criminal.” Kestrel looked pointedly at Garin, and Lilac’s pulse jumped.
Bastion turned, garnet eyes flitting questioningly between Lilac, who’d frozen in horror, and Garin’s twisted grimace.
“Oh?” Kestrel mused. “Garin, my boy. Don’t tell me. Is the lesser brother blissfully unaware of just whom that meek creature standing behind you is? Is he unaware that she is the heiress to the mortal throne?”
It happened too quickly.
Realization morphed Bastion’s look of confusion into one of fury. He turned to her, as if the weight of her parents’ politics rested upon her shoulders alone. His red eyes narrowed into slits as they met Lilac’s, his nostrils flaring wildly. In an instant he was gone.
Garin whirled to knock Lilac into the dirt with his elbow. It knocked the wind out of her—just before Bastion’s body came crashing into Garin’s with a sound like thunder. Pure loathing twisted the blond vampire’s face as he struggled to reach her, his fangs sharp and deadly as he snapped his jaws over Garin’s shoulder.
As incredibly strong as Garin was was, he struggled against his younger brother; Lilac scuttled back barely in time as Bastion lunged again, this time slamming Garin to the floor. His head cracked against the dusty concrete with a sickening crunch.
“Stop it,” she screamed from the ground, fingernails digging into the gravel, then her hands until they left bloody crescents along her palms. Heat surged up through her until she could bear it no longer. “Kestrel,” she pleaded, to no reply. The faerie leader was busy twiddling his fingertips in delighted anticipation.
As if he’d forgotten she was there, Bastion’s head snapped hungrily in her direction. The distraction was just enough—with an unrestrained grunt, Garin shifted his arms and pushed Bastion off, far enough to kick him powerfully in the chest. Bastion was launched several meters into the air and landed in a puff of dust at the end of the colosseum.
Lilac scrambled to her feet. She watched in both amazement and horror at the sheer power that had laid dormant in the very hands that held her tenderly only moments before.
Where a human would have been instantly killed by the blow of his landing, Bastion quickly righted himself and charged his brother once more. So fast that Lilac could barely follow, Garin unsheathed Sinclair’s longsword and held it in Bastion’s path. The younger vampire’s own momentum forward shoved the blade through his stomach and out his back.
Bastion roared in anguish—and still managed to pull himself off the sword, suddenly swiping it from Garin’s hand. Gorged with fresh human blood, he was faster and stronger than his opponent. Lilac’s mouth fell open as they fought sword, tooth and nail; they moved like lightning and thunder, voracious Greek gods battling over