Page 219 of Disillusioned
“From my room at the inn. Illusion, of course, is my specialty, but I’m good enough to Conjure from locations within close proximity, or my personal belongings. It’s just a matter of being able to visualize the item.” He handed the bundle of chains to Lilac. “Throw them or place them. They’ll work on their intended target. They’ll also fortify the object they’re bound to, to a limit.”
She’d be sick. Boils had broken out across Garin’s forearms, his hands curled into fists against the persisting pain, like they had been at Sinclair’s camp. Surely his own talons were bleeding him further. Daemons weren’t meant to be restrained, not like this. “This is unnecessary and cruel.”
“Cruelty would be allowing his hunger to overwhelm him when he’sdrowning in it,” Myrddin warned. “He will thank you later. Use them. They’ll at least hold him as long as he’s under the effects of my blood.”
Jaw clenched, she snatched them from him. “How long do I have?”
“I never stuck around long enough to know. Best not find out.” He last handed her a rusted key. “Keep him bound until after the last of the ammunition is removed. I’ll be here. I need my rest if I am to come to your aid.”
“I need you to alert Riou and John about the carnage we’ve witnessed. Piper and Bastion will be arriving soon—they are both to be allowed inside. And we should call for the guards to prepare.” What little guards were left, anyway. Most of them were slain because she and her father both had failed them; while there were boxes and boxes of stolen hawthorn weaponry she and Yanna had discovered in Artus’s carriage at the farmhouse—from stakes, to blades, to arrows—her own men were grossly underprepared in comparison with France’s developing armory.
“I’ll do it,” Rupert offered.
Myrddin spared him a skeptical glance. “Do you feel better, Sir Rupert?”
He reddened. “I do.”
“Good. Your kind does no one any favors by being martyrs when it comes to the appetite.” Myrddin’s eyes darted to Lilac. “You’ll first aid Her Majesty and Sir Garin to her tower. Then, you’ll secure the castle and stand watch. Her decree will protect you.”
Rupert’s chest inflated before Lilac added, “Be mindful of the sunrise. You’re allowed to be here, by the way. You belong among us.”
Myrddin took her hand. Garin said nothing. “Assuming that was the first wave of Francois’s men, it will take them hours to dispatch more of them. If Garin killed them all, there were no scouts to immediately report back to Francois’s leaders. You have time; I will make sure of it. Do you understand?”
In answer, Lilac shifted her supplies to one arm, taking Garin’s in the other. She glanced up at Rupert. “Make sure the coast is clear for us.”
“Wait.” Yanna trudged over, dragging Isabel with her. “Wait. We’re coming.”
“No.” Isabel dug her heels into the floor, shrinking away from Garin. “We can’t.”
“We must help. You would do it for me, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, but?—”
“Then you’ll do it for her.”
38
No one said a word as Yanna and Isabel prepared her bath. This time, Rupert had done the filling. After they showed him the furnace room next to the infirmary, he filed in and out with two buckets while they filled the tub with rose petals and fragrant oils, lining the table at its side with cloth, towels, and a nightgown from one of the boxes Herlinde had brought.
It seemed, without a single word of explanation, that each of them understood one thing: Lilac’s mission to save Garin required some preparation.
She stood in the doorway clutching the bundle of supplies, running the key through her fingers and desperately keeping her eyes off his bare, bloodied torso.
To no avail.
Garin sat in her vanity chair with his back to the hearth, wrists still bound together on his lap as he expertly avoided her gaze. He was no longer wincing in pain; she couldn’t tell if it was because he wasn’t forced to put pressure on his wounded leg, or if it’d been a convincing act all along, but he seemed perfectly content to watch Rupert, Yanna, and Isabel over his shoulder in the mirror’s reflection.
And although it was something he couldn’t help, his silence unsettledher more than anything else; she couldfeelhis impatience behind the mask of bored amusement.
When the tub was just over three-quarters of the way filled, there it was—the familiar tug behind her navel. The nudge of encouragement for her to near him.
She didn’t dare look up. She didn’t have to. Every inch of her body registered the beckoning—a warm, unexpectedly friendly invitation at first. Wordless but palpable, though she could almost hear his voice.
I won’t hurt anyone, certainly not you,he said—or so she imagined. His voice even echoed. She was exhausted and running on too little sleep.You’re nervous, I can feel it. Just as I can feel your desire for me.
Lilac stared down at the grooves in the wood, at the fox and bear pelts adorning the floor. Curiosity skirted the argument bubbling up in her tight chest. Whether it was the creeping madness of exhaustion or another obscure effect of their bond, it was convincing. She shifted the supplies under her arm and lifted her hands to her ears.
I can feel them burrowed in deep,Garin groaned, his voice slipping deeper into her thoughts like silk drawn over a blade.
