But the cost of war is part of life, especially when born into royalty, no doubt. Your ancestors knew that.” He glowered pointedly at Lilac. “The vampires here know it well too; most of them were cavalry in their former lives, trained as lethal beings long before their Darkling transformations.”
“I understand,” Lilac replied, swallowing hard.
“Which is why I must ask you, before I allow you to depart,” said Kestrel. The words ignited a furious flame of hope in Lilac’s heart, detracting from the ominous edge to the faerie’s voice. “I must ask you. What does that Garin lad mean to you?”
The memory of Garin’s lips, soft but urgent as they molded to hers, burned fresh in her memory, and Lilac wondered if Kestrel could see it, too. Keeping her face straight, she replaced it with the more recent and relevant memory of Garin questioning her involvement with Laurent’s murder, her competency as queen—not to mention how quick he was to cast the blame of her escape on her.
“He’s a Darkling who had the nerve to kidnap me,” she answered decidedly. “He’s nothing at all.”
The impish left Kestrel’s face. He cocked an eyebrow at Garin. “I see.” Then, he whirled back on Lilac. “So, your kiss… That was of free will, then?”
Her clamoring heart nearly stopped. She didn’t dare look at Garin or Bastion, so she instead held Kestrel’s penetrating stare. The crowd stifled their gasps this time, probably fearful of missing her response.
Finally, she spoke. It was a pathetic parry, but it was all she had. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered.
Kestrel waved his staff once more; this time, the vines that bound both vampires snapped. They stumbled forward but quickly regained their footing. Garin quickly made his way to Sinclair’s sword next to Bastion, moving with such fluidity he appeared to be floating. With the elegance of a trained swordsman, he retrieved it off the floor and slipped the blade into its sheath while Bastion, already healed from his wounds, gathered himself, staring dumbfoundedly at his brother.
Lilac watched, awestruck, and wondered if Garin had been downplaying this vampiric grace the whole time. Strangely, seeing him handle Sinclair’s blade brought her attention to her own weapon. It had stopped seizing entirely.
“The vampire, for all its human seemings and trappings, remains a monster and will always regard itself as such,” Kestrel begun to explain airily, to no one in particular. “The foolish, often younger blood drinker boasts some control over the agonizing hunger, but the older and wiser understand they are forever powerless pawns of its desires. By nature, vampires are protective of their prey. Dear princess, I advise you to keep this in mind, especially if the end goal for you is surviving your journey to Paimpont and back to the castle. Remember… any unseemly relationship between the two of you will only alienate those you wish to bring to your side.”
“I can assure you that won’t be the case,” Lilac agreed. As much as she wished she could melt into the floor after being lectured by Kestrel, she was also fiercely happy she’d soon see the light of day again.
“Not so fast, queenie. What will you be paying her with?”
“Paying?”
Kestrel nodded. “Invitation doesn’t always guarantee free service.”
“No one loves free shit more than the rich,” Bastion muttered under his breath.
Lilac’s heart sunk. She’d brought a hefty coin purse of gros and livres, but it wasn’t exactly something she’d considered. It was Ophelia who had invited her, after all.
But what if it wasn’t enough?
As if reading her thoughts, the faerie twirled his hand in the air. From a blue puff of smoke, he produced a small black drawstring pouch. “This is for the witch. I’m sure she intended to offer her services from the pure darkness of her pitiless heart. Nevertheless, it is always in good taste to leave an impressive gratuity. I’m sure you know that.”
“I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”
He waved the pouch. “Think of it as a token of our temporary acquaintance. I’m sure the favor will be repaid in due time.”
Ignoring Garin and Bastion’s warning looks, she accepted it cautiously. She cradled it in her hands. It wasn’t money. The item was firm, rotund, and fit perfectly cupped in Lilac’s palm. She sniffed at it, but Kestrel made a noise.
“It is rude to peek in on a gift that isn’t yours.”
She tucked it neatly into her knapsack.
“Garin,” he sung. “It is my wish that you accompany Her Highness on this journey