damn what it means for the kingdom? That poor princess. She’s just around your age, I’d say. Just a girl. Imagine that, all alone in the forest. The dear child needs to be found and rescued, God grant something hasn’t happened to her.”
“In the forest?” Lilac gasped, clutching her chest and turning her shock at Sable’s words into the surprised reaction that Sable would expect. “They know for certain she’s in Brocéliande?”
“The town crier made an urgent announcement yesterday at the request of Armand Le Tallec. He said that she was missing, but that she’d been spotted in the woods.”
“Spotted where? What other details were given?”
“None. It was all the information they had at the time.” Sable rubbed her elbows, as if a sudden draft had blown in. “Either that, or it was all they were willing to release.”
Lilac bit her lip thoughtfully. “Interesting. Poor princess,” she lamented, wring her hands dismally.
Sable agreed with a sigh. Garin returned noisily with a bundle of vegetables dangling from one arm, the limp neck of a rooster protruding from his armpit as its body bobbed behind him. He beamed for Lilac’s benefit. If she hadn’t been so nervous, Lilac might’ve even giggled; the thought of the vampire working in the kitchen was ludicrous. What did he know about cooking? She was sure he’d been listening from the garden and would continue to listen still.
Sable somehow found it easy to ignore Garin. She had something on her mind, and Lilac, it appeared, would be the recipient of her thoughts.
“But Lysyn dear, I’ve been thinking. Isn’t it strange that the princess was located but not recovered?”
Lilac assumed what she hoped was a confused expression. “What do you mean?”
“Maybe the princess didn’t want to be found. Maybe the riots have finally gotten to her head.”
At Lilac’s frown, Sable leaned in. “This is all speculation, dear, but what if her disappearance into the forest means she’s surrendering the throne? To that horrid Le Tallec boy.” Sable let out a low whistle as she stared into the dancing flames. Lilac thought she saw a slight shudder pass over the woman’s hunched shoulders. “Either that, or the Darklings have her.”
“Personally, don’t think the princess would willingly give up her place,” Lilac replied. “If she left on her own accord, she might have needed time to herself. To think.”
“Perchance, the Darklings kidnapped her. You never know,” Garin retorted dryly from above the iron pot, oblivious of Lilac’s mortified grimace and Sable’s gasp. “People disappear all the time. Children run away from home. Housewives take the ale money and jump the next carriage out of town. Creatures sneak into windows at night to drain victims in their beds.” He shrugged. “Most of those who disappear are found. I reckon she would have returned home by now, had she left by choice. Plus, that vampire snuck up on us so quickly.” He stared into the hearth absentmindedly, as if shielding himself from the terrible bits of faux memory. “I wouldn’t wish that on anyone—astonishingly powerful creatures, Darklings are. Especially vampires, but that being said,” he added, returning to stir the stew, “being captured by monsters isn’t a death sentence or end-for-all. It certainly isn’t necessarily the end of her reign. People are just dramatic. I’m sure she isn’t entirely hopeless.”
Sable looked down her nose and frowned at Garin’s vague rumination. “Aye. I suppose whatever situation one’s in, there is always hope. Good thinking, lad. I’m so glad you both escaped the vampire when you had the chance. Now we can only hope the princess has the same luck.” She shook her heading, tsking. “Right stupid of you to even think of taking the Brocéliande shortcut.”
Garin nodded vigrorusly and let out a mouthful of air in agreement. His ease at lying was unsettling.
Lilac was quivering inside, but her voice was steady. She forced a laugh. “We were foolish.”
Sighing, Sable went back to studying the princess’s profile. Panic began to rise in Lilac’s chest. “Madame?” she said meekly, when she could no longer bear it.
“Not to worry, dear. Your secret is safe with me.” Sable whispered, winking.
Lilac blinked and side-eyed Garin, who was busy kneeling before the iron pot, sliding an assortment of chopped vegetables The aroma of boiling poultry swam with that of fresh rosemary, sage, and sweet carrots. He didn’t bother glancing up, instead rocking back on his heels absentmindedly. He stood, opened the nearby aumbry door, and procured a long, two-pronged fork, using it to stoke the red-hot coals in the