less in view of the guard, but the gesture only drew his attention.
“Your Royal Highness.”
“I can explain everything, Ren,” she said hurriedly, trying to keep her tone even. “Just stay calm—"
But Renald wasn’t listening. Swinging his club for an arm, he swept Garin aside, but the vampire blocked his way again in a flash of movement.
Renald blinked at his speed. “Out of my way, boy,” he grumbled. “I’ll deal with you later.”
Before Lilac could blink, Garin had him by the front of his robe and was dragging him out of the room. She stood frozen, openmouthed at their thumping descent down the stairs, followed by an enormous thud that shook the house. Quickly hoisting her sack of belongings over her shoulder, Lilac bolted out to see Garin holding Renald against the front door by the front of his robes, blocking the only entrance—or escape. From somewhere in the hallway, Sable shrieked.
“Boy?” Garin’s baritone was deadly, and he stood a little straighter; never did he sound less a boy. “I could be your great grandfather’s great grandfather, so I’d show some respect if I were you. And if you touch her, I’ll kill you where you stand.”
The guard began to thrash, his red face turning blue. Still, he managed to mouth, “What—are—you?”
“Why, Monsieur Guard, you don’t know?” At the guard’s gaping stutter, Garin sighed with irritation. “I’m—"
With Garin blocking her sight, Lilac wasn’t sure what happened next. All she knew was that he abruptly stopped speaking and released Renald. Then Garin staggered back clutching his stomach, revealing a blood-tipped halberd in guard’s trembling hand.
Lilac watched what followed as if in slow motion, unflinching, somehow expecting him to respond with the swift accuracy he had when she’d plunged her own dagger into him. But he didn’t. His features snarled in confusion, and he steadied himself against the vase table perched beneath the front window—the window, through which the fiery glow of sunset poured.
Immediately, the left side of his face began to sizzle, the same way it had under the heat of Sinclair’s sword. He roared, pushing off the table to spring back at Renald before he could raise the blade again. Garin knocked the halberd to the floor before resuming his grip even tighter on the man’s airway.
“You…” the guard choked out helplessly. “But you—”
“Don’t be thrown by my eyes, mortal.” Garin shifted his grip to Renald’s jaw. “I am still every bit the Darkling you were warned about.” The gravel in his voice hinted at a creeping madness. “Garin Austol Trevelyan. I don’t believe we’ve met.”
His name. His birth name, which he'd previously refused to reveal, gave him strength when he perhaps had none. Lilac leaned against the stairwell, trying to remember the last time he’d had something to drink. The turnover of redness in a vampire’s eyes was three days post-meal, so they probably couldn’t go more than that long without eating without growing weak. Garin’s turnover could’ve been even shorter, for all she knew, since he thrived on cold blood.
Renald’s face broke out in beads of sweat, a glistening layer over his bulging veins. His eyes grew glassy, darting—but they stilled when they met hers. “Your High—ness,” he gargled over Garin’s shoulder.
Bile rose in her throat. She had witnessed other creatures at the mercy of Garin’s terrible wrath before, but none of them that she’d known personally—with the deserving exception of Sinclair.
Without releasing the crushing pressure upon Renald’s throat, Garin reached over his shoulder and unsheathed his sword.
The guard moaned miserably.
She knew she shouldn’t. She knew it was the only logical thing left, the only thing Garin could do to avoid them getting caught. But she couldn’t help it.
“Garin?”
But before she could tap him on the shoulder, the vampire whirled on her—and she gasped. The left side of his face hadn’t healed much at all. As if struggling to pull the fibers of his skin back together by some ancient magic, the wound had formed a rough circle, with the center still charred raw. A small pool of blood, black against his tunic, had spread to the left of his navel.
“No. We’re not doing this again.”
“You can’t kill him. Your face—” She reached toward it, but he jerked away.
“I’m trying to help, princess.” He sounded exasperated more than angry, but his piercing glare had begun to lack sanity.
At his sudden, almost submissive tone toward her, Lilac felt three other pairs of human eyes suddenly pin onto her. Renald, Jeanare, and Sable stared, as if they’d somehow forgotten her presence