Page 184 of Disillusioned
“Ah, some of Madame Toranaga’s friends!” Herlinde’s eyes brightened. “I recognize you.”
They both smiled and curtsied.
“Have you seen Sir Albrecht?” Lilac blurted. “Outside, anywhere?”
Isabel shook her head. “We’ve only been in the courtyard assisting the others with a game of cricket.”
Herlinde poked Ozzie, who then handed the bundle and dress to Yanna. “Yes, where is this emissary, Your Majesty?”
“Now that you mention it,” Yanna added, “I haven’t seen him all day. Not since this morning, when he left with that horrid Agnes. They were searching for Ambrosius, weren’t they?”
“Agnes the Baroness?” Herlinde eyed Lilac sidelong. “Where would they have gone off to?”
Isabel’s fingers went to her mouth. “You don’t think they’ve?—”
A loud bang startled everyone, causing them to jump. It sounded like it came from the rear of the keep, near the northern wing. The guard at the door started forward, but Lilac beat him to it.
“Stay,” Lilac commanded, leaving Yanna clutching her wedding gown,Isabel clutching Yanna—and a rightly concerned-looking Herline and Ozzie frozen in place. “All of you.”
Without explanation, Lilac took off. There was something wrong, she could feel it. Because she couldn’t feelhim, his closeness—his pulsing proximity she’d grown used to. In his confirmed absence, the dread in her chest had only worsened.
There were shouting and footsteps, then; Yanna was there, panting, Isabel close behind and glancing nervously back at the foyer. Herlinde could be heard speaking urgently, presumedly to Ozzie or the guard—or the several members of her staff probably roused from a mid-morning nap.
“I told you to stay,” Lilac said hurriedly.
“What are you going to do, fire us?” Yanna peered at the doors in scrutiny. “What was that sound?”
Nothing seemed out of place in the corridor—save for the person-sized hole leading to the armory—until one of the guest quarters on the left burst open. Myrddin stumbled out, a thick trail of smoke billowing behind him.
He looked startled to see her, his hair flat against his head and his robe hanging half off, as if he’d been in a wind tunnel. “Your Majesty, thank goodness, you?—”
Lilac shoved him back into the room; she hadn’t meant to do it that hard, but his body flew several feet into the air before landing near the hearth.
“Lilac,” Yanna shrieked, trailing her into the double guest bed chamber. “What’s gotten into you?”
“Vampires,” Myrddin wheezed, clutching his chest. “Specifically, a volatile one that transferred some of his power to her the moment she enthralled herself to him.”
Yanna’s disgusted gasp was lost to the distant, echoing sound of Marguerite’s and her friends’ laughter.
Lilac leaped forward, pouncing upon Myrddin before he could sit up again. “I need your help,” she begged, the front of his robes in her fists as she turned back to the bewildered sisters. “Leave. Lie for me. Tell them that all is well and Garin’s been in his chamber recovering the whole time, that we’re tending to him.”
“Garin?” Yanna said, refusing to move. “What is a Garin?”
Isabel remained in the hall, terror stricken upon her face; the voices grew louder, Herlinde’s blending in with the rest.
Lilac cursed herself. “Albrecht, I meant to say. Sir Albrecht. Please, do this for me.”
Yanna stomped toward the door and shoved the bundle and dress into Isabel’s arms. “Go. Now, Izzy.”
Isabel blanched but nodded, departing with an uneasy glance.
Then, Yanna shut the door, sliding the lock in place and slowly pacing to the opposite side of the room. She didn’t say anything else, didn’t prod further, but it was painstakingly clear she would not leave.
The room was simple, similar to the handmaidens’ quarters but more spacious; it consisted of a hearth in the center wall, and simple wooden beds against the far left and right sides of the room, storage trunks at the foot of each. Garin’s bed on the right was made, but the blankets were slightly dented in the center, as if he’d laid there contemplating without the intention of sleep.
Myrddin’s was a mess of covers, a pillow hanging halfway off the bed. There was a garment on the floor that caught her eye, crumpled beneath his own velvet cloak hanging on the end post. Lilac wouldn’t have paid it any mind, but she recognized the red blazer from last night.
“Rupert?” She hadn’t noticed Myrddin had shimmied from her grasp.
