Page 135 of Disillusioned
Lilac nodded, suppressing a smile.
“How privileged they are,” said Yanna, sighing. “We left that day with our Madame’s blessing. We both agreed that if either of us got the job, we’d work for a few years here while the other remained. We would earn our wages, then purchase a home together. Your father was indifferent as long as we knew how to keep your quarters tidy and entertain you. Your mother wasn’t very difficult to impress at all—upon first meeting, she was delighted with us. Miraculously, she acceptedtwoorphans from the brothel on the spot.”
“Oh, stop it Yanna. There’s nothing wrong with The Fool's Folly. We worked at the Stag’s Head Inn briefly before Madame approached us. We served drinks and kept patrons in line. It really was no different. It’s all simply being receptive and tending to others’ needs.” Isabel laughed at the shock Lilac couldn’t hide. “Have you seen their apothecary? There are all kinds of goods and wares down there.”
“There’s an apothecary?” Lilac immediately thought of Garin and his half-conscious mention of Aimee. “I didn’t see one. I just remember the crowded tavern, the alcoves, and the second floor.”
“It’s in their basement,” Isabel said through the truffle she’d popped into her mouth. “Ask the barhand for a Moonlit Path Tea, and they’ll escort you downstairs. You didn’t hear it from us. It’s the kind of thing people know of, but don’t talk about if they’re decent.”
“An herbalist at the brothel,” mused Piper. “How intriguing.”
“She’s more than that,” said Isabel. “Madame is a physician. An alchemist and chef, too. It is a place of reprieve for anyone finding themselves in need of it. It even contains a small infirmary and a disheveled library.”
Yanna’s ever-present scowl softened. “I first met my Gwendal there, years ago. He was fetching tea for his mother. You can imagine my shock to see him here. We reconnected and things…progressed. We were going to ask your blessing for marriage.” She pursed her lips, as if considering maiming Lilac with another one of her imminent barbs. “Before France.”
Lilac was flabbergasted. She barely managed to keep from sputtering as her words poured out. “Yanna, why didn’t you tell me? About any of this? You would have had my permission—you have it now.”
Yanna stared angrily into the fire, arms crossed. “It might be too late for that. I fear abandoning my sister for a man that might be sent off to die tomorrow. No one should have to go to war. Certainly no one from a kingdom so ill-prepared by its own royal family. It is cruel to expect. It is self-sabotage. Gwendal said it appeared the armory hadn’t even been restocked or surveyed before they were sent off.”
There will be no war. Lilac wanted to say it, but the words stuck in her throat. There was truly nothing consoling to offer. She could not promise it. So many depended on her, and there was no easy choice. She’d see her duty through with Garin acting as Maximilian’s emissary, or possibly watch her kingdom burn under François’s hand.
Garin, whose presence alone made marrying another no easy task.
Sniffling, Yanna suddenly turned and strode toward the door.
“Where are you going?” asked Piper. The sun behind her had begun to sink, setting her copper hair ablaze.
“We’re leaving. I expect to be on call for you tonight, whether you two plan on going to this feast or not. I’ve heard this family's soirees can get exceptionally rowdy.” Yanna’s hardened gaze snapped to Isabel. “Put the sweets down, Izzy.”
“Wait.” Lilac got to her feet as Isabel reddened and gathered her skirts.
Yanna’s hand was already on the knob, her emerald eyes glassy. “Your secrets are safe with us, Your Majesty. We won’t dare tell a soul.”
Lilac rushed to her vanity and retrieved the basket. She’d stared at it throughout their conversation with half a mind to throw it into the fire; she only hadn’t because of the variety of enchantments that could have imbued the item. It had been a long enough morning. The last thing she needed was an incinerated four-poster bed to drown her sorrows in.
The sisters watched warily as Lilac reached into the basket and pulled out half a steaming sourdough loaf and handed it to Piper. Then, she handed the rest of the basket to Isabel. “If you don’t find your way down to the festivities tonight, please enjoy these for me.”
Isabe’s eyes went wide with wonder. “It’s enchanted.” She held her palm over the open lid as she slipped the basket onto her arm. “Are you positive? Sir Albrecht said he brought them from town just for you.”
“He is overeager.”
Yanna reached into the basket, inspecting the dappled corner of rye she’d pulled out before biting into it. Her eyes widened, the most enthusiastic approval Lilac had ever seen from her. She hummed, but her lips suddenly pursed.
“What is it?”
“Albrecht said he wanted to bring you some goods from the inn he’d stayed at, but there’s only one tavern inn in all of Rennes. The Stag’s Head is famous for theirred-dyed, non-enchanted baskets and linens. He couldn’t possibly have been referring to The Fool's Folly. They don’t bake their goods in-house, and there’s not one bakery in that town that produces anythingnearthis caliber.”
“No one cares about food there when the drinks do all the work,” added Isabel.
Lilac shrugged, her expression indifferent with effort. She could still feel the red heat of being caught creeping up her neck. “That is curious, but far from my concern.”
Yanna beckoned her sister hither and placed a hand on the doorknob, shooting one last withering look at Lilac and Piper. “That Albrecht fellow is dodgy. Then again, so are the both of you.”
.
24
By the time the sky was tinged in apricot and lavender, the empty bottle of champagne and mound of chocolates had done their job. Lilac and Piper lay side by side before the fire in a mess of her duvet and empty champagne flutes.
