Page 234 of Disillusioned
Myrddin motioned at her. “Your Dawnshard, too.”
Garin looked up. Lilac’s hand went defensively to the outline of her dagger, pulling up her skirts and extracting it carefully. “What did you call it?”
“The Dawnshard,” Myrddin said, eyes flicking to the blade with a mix of irritation and something like fondness. “The name of your weapon. Keep that thing in its sheath. Magic folk and arcana wielders might recognize it if they’re well-traveled, but they’ll likelyfeelthe weight of what you carry, regardless.”
Realization hit her through a surge of panic. “Thisis what my family had stolen from the Fair Folk, isn’t it?” Myrddin remained silent. “But Kestrel’s seen me with it.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Garin said roughly. “You won’t be giving anything more of yourself to that fucking faerie. We owe them nothing.”
Lilac hesitated; there was only one other loop on the belt—much too wide, as if it were made for a broadsword. But Garin just nodded at her, and she slid the dagger and its sheath in. The leather snapped right to it, molding snugly. “It’s useless, anyway,” she said dubiously, just in case they were mistaken. “It’s not very good at killing anyone andkeepingthem dead. I should probably replace it with something else from our armory, if you haven’t blown the interior to bits.”
“Some weapons were never forged for battle in the first place, Your Majesty.”
“So,” Garin interjected, “Bast and Adelaide are dashing out of the room to report to the crowd downstairs that the queen and her Strigoi have vanished into thin air, along with Albrecht’s warlock?”
“If they haven’t already, then yes.” Myrddin twirled his finger, and a black bundle appeared in a puff of smoke. It flew across the room, hitting Garin square in the chest. “Here’s one of the ensembles Herlinde sent you along with. Put it on. I don’t think the queen’s summoner in particular would appreciate her bringing a nude Strigoi along. Especially you.”
“What—”
“Just do it, Garin,” Myrddin snapped.
Piper joined Lilac as Garin brought the bundle to the far corner of Lilac’s bed to change. The thought of him undressing again drove a distant ache in her chest.
They slipped into an awkward silence, broken only by the soft rustle andclickof Garin’s gear.Dawnshard.Knowing her dagger’s name gave it a strange, unexpected weight. Lilac fingered its jewel-encrusted hilt, marveling at the intricate patterns crafted over its fine silver alloy.
“There was noanswerfrom the Fair Folk,” Piper commented.
Lilac turned her head slightly, distracted by Garin’s outline in the corner of her eye. She dared sneak a peek at him as Piper spoke; despite the turmoil of the evening, he fixed her with a molten grin displayingallof his fangs, disappearing into the shirt he pulled down over his head.
Her insides melted, and her mouth began to water.
“The Fair Folk,” Piper said again, prodding Lilac in the side, “didnotanswer.”
“Right, sorry. But Kestrel received the chest?”
“Yes.” Piper’s mouth tilted. “I assume so. The faerie fire consumed it, and then the tree—the actual willow tree—burst into flames. Do you not think it unusual?”
She did, but perhaps Kestrel had decided he was simply done
Myrddin’s giddy laughter echoed near the doorway as he staggered back.
Both of them looked up and gasped to see a vivid blue light puncturing the space beneath her door. A thick seafoam mist began to swell through.
“Good heavens,” the warlock whispered.
“Iknow,” said Garin; Lilac glanced back to see him angled away, adjusting himself down the leg of his dark trousers below a fitted black shirt and silk vest. “That’s what Lilac—” He broke off, looking up to see the mist consuming the room.
He leapt over the bed in one swift move, fumbling to button his pants. Garin positioned himself between Lilac, Piper, and the mist, but Myrddin simply opened the door.
The entire stairwell was illuminated in mist, the light seeming to emanate from downstairs. Lilac was about to ask whom—orwhat—daredsummon her and Garin on her apparent wedding day, but a low sound cut through the thick, damp air.
A moan—a male voice. It was a wet sound that made her hair stand on end.
Myrddin seemed to be enjoying himself far too much; his poorly withheld grin broke when Garin spoke.
“Youwere the one behind my hallucination,” he said under his breath. “My dream.”
Confused, Lilac placed a hand on Garin’s heaving chest, attempting to calm him in case he lost control again. “What dream?”
