a patchwork scene of farmland, then Paimpont. Beyond the town, further east, the trees were shrouded in darkness, almost as if the thick canopy made it resistant to light. The Low Forest.
The air here was crisp, rejuvenating in her lungs while the moon cast a luminal glow upon the world. The black backdrop of sky was dusted in tinsel particles—diamonds encrusted in the neckline of some regal goddess. A sepulchral silence spilled into the gaps between the fluty warbles of a lone nightingale, and the princess’ decelerated breathing.
Mildly aware of Garin’s chest barely rising and falling against her back, she placed a hand over her own heart to ensure it was still beating.
To their right, back west, the minute spires of her faraway castle were barely visible in the late-night fog. Too far to spot, the black and white Breton flag rippled in the wind just above the towers in Lilac’s imagination.
Unlike the bustling place she’d visited as a child, the town seemed sleepy even from a distance. The bourgeois homes mixed with newer framework structures were hardly discernible by moonlight. Five or six flickering torch lights moved slowly, up and down the small maze of streets. Frowning, she tried to remember if Paimpont usually employed night sentries.
Then, her throat went dry.
They were searching for her.
A broad manor stood watch at the far end of town, complete with an extensive driveway branching off from the main cobblestone road. Her memory of the place swam with the dim vision of it before her, filling in the details the moon did not illuminate. Twelve large windows, six on the first floor and six more above, made up most of the front wall. Each brick in the limestone walls meticulously caulked, the Le Tallec estate maintained the illusion of perfection while housing the most monstrous family in the kingdom.
She hadn’t anticipated the dizzying emotion that would come with seeing Sinclair’s home again. T
he absence of light in the windows made her stomach churn with unease. Was no one home? Was it because Sinclair was at the castle, preparing to take her position as monarch? She shook her head and forced the worry from her mind. It was nighttime, the townsfolk were sleeping—hence, the absence of light. They’d get a better idea of how her disappearance had affected the kingdom once they got into town.
The vibration of Garin’s throat clearing shook her. “Nervous?”
“No,” she answered, as adamantly as she could muster while cradled in the Darkling’s arms.
“It’s fine to be afraid sometimes, in case no one’s informed you.” His lips moved against her hair.
She did a poor job at concealing a shiver. “I guess. But I’m not.”
“Whatever. Are you ready?”
“For Paimpont? To meet the witch?”
He shifted to meet her eyes shrewdly as he began walking at a normal pace back down the side of the hill. “We’ll head down through the pasture.” He began to pick up speed—faster than a walk, but not his bone-jolting run, either. “And until you’re safe at the castle, I’m here to make sure you don’t do anything reckless.”
Safe. Lilac frowned, unable to think of the last time she felt this safe within the confines of the castle walls. “I could’ve done it alone,” she muttered against his chest. “The rest of the trip.” She knew it wasn’t really true, but she didn’t have to let him know that.
“I’m sure you could have,” he replied with a confidence she didn’t expect from him. Then, came the light sarcasm. “You’ve done a great job avoiding korrigans—those vile, man-eating brutes. And marauders.” Lilac couldn’t help but grin against Garin’s shoulder at his smooth, indirect mention of Sinclair. “Homicidal vampires, insane faeries… the list goes on.”
“Ogres.” She said it without thinking.
Garin gave a rough laugh. “Not likely. Despite their size, ogres are extremely rare to come across—fortunately for all of us. They’re stupid, but will devour anything and everything in their path. But I think I can count the number of those remaining in Brocéliande on one hand. Then again, leave it to you to run into them.”
When she didn’t answer or return his jab, Garin stopped walking. The aroma of juniper berries filled her head.
“Tell me.” The scant color on Garin’s face paled, his smugness disappearing along with it.
A giggle suddenly bubbled up in her throat. He was hardly flustered, and she was more than happy to prove him wrong.
“Stop it. What happened?”
There was absolutely no use in lying to him. She couldn’t if she’d wanted to. “I came across a