Page 139 of Disillusioned
Lilac curtsied, politely smiling through Garin’s fuming. She could feelthe heat radiating from his anger. “Good evening, Brient and Hamon. What is your question?” She braced herself next for the questions on France, or perhaps on Maximilian’s proposition.
“Is it true you passed a decree today, making the harm of Daemons illegal?” This drew a large round of whispers from the crowd. It was likely most of them had spent the day traveling to her castle and hadn’t had the opportunity to hear her town criers’ announcement. “It was a rumor we’d heard on the way here.”
“It is true.”
“Is it now?” muttered Garin.
“What about in retaliation?” Brient asked.
She squinted. “Are you asking me if it is permissible to harm them if justified?”
Brient and Hamon exchanged unsure glances. “Well, yes,” said Brient.
“It is detailed in my decree that the unjust harm and murder of these creatures is now explicitly against royal law unless in self-defense. They will be held responsible for their actions and also deserving of a right to trial, just as any mortal subject is.” Her poised smile tightened at the miffed shock on their faces. “The organized hunting of them is at all times prohibited and punishable by imprisonment or death. They are our equals. They are to be treated as such.”
Unsatisfied, Brient and Hamon shuffled back into a still crowd. From the center, her parents watched, helpless as usual. But behind them, Piper and her handmaidens withheld their smiles with great difficulty. What she’d done mattered. Her first decree.
There was a sharpclink. Garin tapped his fork upon his glass twice, shattering the unbearable silence. “Let us applaud Her Majesty’s attempts at unifying her kingdom in the midst of a crisis. Maximilian has his fair share of warlocks on his court—mostly jesters, otherwise not very useful. Ambrosius there, for example. Smoke and mirrors.” He motioned at the warlock, who froze at the corner of the sweets table. Myrddin slowly turned to face them, mid-bite through a cupcake. Several people gasped and backed away from him. “Entertaining, yet not the threat you think he is. But the emperor,hewas born a politician and raised a soldier. His impressive firepower and tactics are wholly man-made.”
“I did not say they weren’t,” Lilac added, her tone clipped.
Garin tapped his glass again, and the crowd exchanged unsure glances. “Let us not get lost in hearsay and heresy. This night is to celebrate Her Majesty, and Her Majesty alone.” He lifted the cup high and in her direction. He extended his free hand to her, palm up. Fuming, she placing her hand in his. “To the stunning bride to be! To the future Queen of the Romans!”
At first, no one said anything. There was a second of hesitation, but none more. A fist clutching a tankard shot to the ceiling. “Long live the queen!” came her father’s booming voice.
“Long live the queen,” Piper, Yanna, and Isabel shouted back.
By the third chant, most of the room had joined in, and glasses were raised in her direction. For the first time in years, there were enthusiastic cheers for her—ones filled with hope. For the most part, it seemed France had temporarily become a larger threat to them than the Daemons they feared.
Queen of the Romans.Lilac blinked at the crowd, stomach churning. A new, massive empire to rule when she’d barely started with the country of her birth, that which she’d sworn by birthright to protect. The thought threatened to overwhelm her. It would have, if not for Garin’s presence, tethering her in her buzzing body.
At the center of the dance floor, her parents were the first to resume their dance, her mother giggling and falling into her father’s chest. The quartet raised their instruments, and the rest joined in.
Garin took his seat, sipping from his water glass. Lilac held her tongue and plopped into her throne, uttering her thanks as one of Hedwig’s men brought her a steaming plate.
“Thank you, kind sir,” he said, when the server removed his first plate and replaced it with one that matched Lilac’s: dipping lamb rib, potatoes covered in butter and herbs, and a pile of maple parsnips to begin with. But even he paid no mind; Garin was preoccupied with observing Piper, Yanna, and Isabel, who were huddled, whispering at the back of the room. Once Piper noticed Garin watching, she abruptly stopped talking. Isabel bumped into Yanna, who bumped into Piper—who proceeded to beckon them to the sweets table. Garin suppressed a smirk. “I see you discovered those fine gowns I sent you home with.”
“My God. Could you be any louder?” Lilac eyed the server strutting around their table with his dish cart.
“What does it matter, now that half the town knows we were at the brothel together? It seems they don’t care so long as their tender throats are saved by the emperor and their most valiant queen. Thanks to me.” Garin gulped his water and slowly set his glass down, peering sideways at the way the supportive bodice clung to her chest and torso. His eyes lingered as he fingered the divots in the fine crystal.
“Thirsty, are you?”
“These days? Always.” He rubbed at his chin, distracted. “You look like a work of art worth the heist.”
“And you look like a scoundrel stupid enough to attempt it.” Lilac squeezed her thighs together, swallowing her shock at how easily she wanted to open them right there at the table.
His lips quirked. “Lithe? Suave? Cunning?”
“Like you belong at the guillotines,” she rasped. “Stop that. Whatever it is you’re doing.”
Garin only laughed, finally tearing his hungry eyes from her. “Herlinde is a talented seamstress, is she not?”
“She is,” Lilac admitted, thankful for the change of subject. There was no protesting there. “Is Herlinde related to the Algovens?”
“She is an Algoven. She’s Lori’s older sister.”
“Lorietta has never spoken of her before. I didn’t know she had any other family in the area besides Meriam.”
