Where Bastion fought purely with brute strength and aggression, Garin weaved in and out of the blade’s path with an animal-like grace, luring his brother forward before striking. They were like shark and anglerfish in an instinctual dance.
Lilac’s hands flew to her mouth when he finally managed to knock the sword from Bastion’s grip and then drew her dagger from his own belt.
“Garin,” she yelled, but her efforts to stop them were futile. As much as she wanted his dastardly brother gone, it would tear Garin apart if he actually hurt his brother. Losing Laurent had destroyed him enough.
For a moment so fleeting that Lilac could have imagined it, he frowned down at the jewel-encrusted dagger in his palm, barely dodged Bastion’s next swipe. He then advanced on Bastion with the glimmering weapon, slashing through the air. Bastion grinned wickedly and lunged forward, his own sharp teeth now his weapon. Garin parried the move but allowed him forward—and in an instant, both vampires were motionless, the dagger edge held delicately along Bastion’s pale throat.
13
“All for her?” Panting, Bastion’s grin broke into a sneer as he breathed the words into his brother’s face. He moved forward, challenging Garin and allowing the blade to dig further into the meat of his own neck. “You know that dagger will not do me any harm.”
“It will if I take your head off,” said Garin quietly.
“That is quite enough!” roared Kestrel. At some point during their battle, he had procured a long wooden staff, just short of his own height. Gripping it tightly, he waved it in a half circle in front of him.
For a moment, nothing happened.
An enormous gust of shimmering wind blew outward, blinding the three of them. Lilac cried out and shielded her eyes against the pelting rubble. When the dust settled, she reopened them, dry and tired. Both vampires were gone.
They were pinned against opposite sides of the colosseum walls, Garin on her left and Bastion to her right. Thick, cord-like roots protruded from new cracks formed in the walls, restraining both vampires at the wrists and ankles so their bodies hung taut against the stone. A string of scathing expletives and protests flowed from their fanged mouths while they struggled against the enchanted vines.
The three guards surrounded Lilac closely now. She gulped, shaken by the frightening display of power from Kestrel. What was this incredible hold over the elements that he’d wielded? And why had he bothered to spare her from the same imprisonment?
Unless he had saved her for an even worse fate.
A familiar buzzing rattled against her hip beneath her wool cloak; she caught herself before she could gasp. Sinclair’s sword lay in the dirt where Bastion had dropped it, but her dagger had somehow appeared snugly back in her scabbard. She pretended to shift uncomfortably, crossing her arms while ensuring the wool of her cloak concealed it.
“Executed like a true soldier,” Kestrel directed at Garin. He studied the vampire speculatively as he flounced forward.
He twirled his staff like a baton. He neared, enough so that Lilac could see the fine details of its ornate etchings. A clouded gem sat embedded at the top, encircled with smaller garnets. She frowned at the sudden familiarity of the design—a full moon overlooking blood-red stars.
Kestrel stuck the head of the staff beneath Garin’s chin. “You still possess legerdemain—that enchanting sleight of hand. Even decades after your battlefield prime.”
Garin said nothing. His blond brother watched warily from the other side of the room.
“However,” Kestrel remarked, unhooking his staff and stepping away, “you were willing to harm—kill, perhaps—your own brother, over her. I’m curious… Is that your bloodlust bubbling to the surface after half a century cursed?” Kestrel smiled devilishly at Garin’s silence. “Or is it the girl?” He pivoted, cape twirling behind him, to jostle his staff toward the crowd. “What say ye?”
Bastion squinted in dubious confusion, reflecting the murmurs heard from the silhouettes above.
Garin’s livid glare toward Kestrel faded. He hung his head in exhaustion, all the fight and pride leaking from him like water from a punctured sack. The skirmish and Kestrel’s probing had scraped him clean.
Lilac felt contentedly invisible, stilling even further against the faerie’s words. Despite everything earlier that night, Garin’s defensiveness over her came unexpected. She nervously waited for him to look her way.
“You can’t expect all of this to unfold, and not have us questioning your loyalties, now can you?” Kestrel sprawled his fingers over his chest. Soon, howls of laughter filled the pit, rising