Page 53 of Disillusioned
“France?” she said in alarm. “Will they advance?”
“That is what we suspect.” The emissary looked both ways. The roads had remained empty. “And their king is not offering marriage.”
Lilac immediately stiffened. “The queen would never accept. She would not surrender.”
“Perhaps not, but she’ll then require a stronger foothold on her land to keep France at bay. Her small army would never last.” His chuckle was grim.
“What does that have to do with why you’re here?” Garin snapped. He was right behind her now, his breath on her ear.
The man gulped and averted his eyes, keeping them fixed on Lilac. “This knowledge is sure to spark a flurry of proposals once made public. Of course, Maximilian has demanded complete secrecy, so his offer will stand first.”
“And what makes your leader so bold to send you two weeks before her coronation?” said Garin.
The man couldn’t help the smile that bloomed upon his face. “Maximilian hopes to be married by her coronation ball. If she accepts his proposition and signs the contract,” he said, patting his satchel, “then he will marry her, by way of me.”
Lilac said nothing. Neither did Adelaide or Garin, but his hand immediately reached for her waist, settling firmly on the small of her back.
“Maximilian offers what no other ally will: a proxy marriage through myself to prevent France from annexing her country. She doesn’t have to see him, but if she wants to solidify her people’s continued protection, she’ll visit Austria to eventually bear his children, and—” He frowned at Lilac, whose limbs had gone numb. “I’m sorry, does that rogue have fangs?”
Before Garin could reply, the man stumbled back, his face wrenched in horror. The hilt of her dagger stuck out of his chest.
It happened so fast; a strangled noise slipped from her throat as she stepped back, warm blood covering her hands. She obviously didn’t do a very good job at stabbing him, because he sputtered a cry for help before stumbling away, screaming.
Behind them, Adelaide was cursing. Garin was frozen in place beside her, his look of terror rapidly consumed by a dark disbelief she’d never seen. He whirled on her.
“Lilac, that was an emissary from theHoly Roman Empire.” Rage gripped every word.
“I know who he was. I’m not marrying him or his king,” she snarled, or at least wanted to snarl. It came out more like a whimper as her breathing became labored. Her body felt exhausted, as if the act of bravado had leaked the energy out of her.
“So you tell the emperor by letter!” Garin shouted, fury mottling his carefully crafted calm. “You send a formal apology, Lilac, you don’t murder his representative. Not in broad daylight.”
Clutching her dagger to his middle, the man had broken into a slow sprint in the opposite direction of the town—off the path into the trees.
“There will be people looking for him.”
Shaking violently, Lilac had no answer.What had she done?
Garin tore his murderous eyes from her and bounded into the woods, Adelaide shouting after him. The last thing she saw was the witch’s terrified face as the world turned to darkness once more.
When Lilac woke—orthought she had, anyway—Brocéliande was cast in the orange-violet glow of twilight. Strong arms lifted her from a carriage, and she buried her nose into a red-stained shirt that smelled of wood hyacinths and iron; it made her homesick, made her stomach churn with a distant want as they carried her from the chill to warmth, up a set of stairs, and down a dimly lit hallway lined with doors, several of which creaked open to reveal curious eyes. They slammed shut again upon a furious, barked command.
They brought her to the second door on the left and placed her on a bed, pulling the covers up around her, and when they tried to leave, Lilac reached out and grabbed the owner of those arms by the shirt and asked him to stay—and everyone else fussing over her to leave.
Without question, he curled around her, his body molding around hers even with the blankets between them. As hard as she struggled to wake, as this seemed an important moment to savor, his warmth and the way histhumb kneaded the tension out of her neck and shoulders made it impossible.
He was gone, then he appeared again with a couple books tucked under his arm, like an apparition with impressive taste. He read to her from theLais of Marie de Franceand a newer collection of stories—one, about a chivalrous knight called Gawain. After he gently informed her that those were all the books he’d brought from his room, she begged for more. Chuckling, Garin placed the books down upon the chair and made his way to the bed, climbing in behind her. He began to recite a tale from memory. One his father used to tell him when he was young.
“Once upon a time, during an age when magic and mortal coexisted more freely in the world,” he murmured into her hair. He shifted his hand and laced his fingers between hers with a distracting gentleness before continuing. “There was an island kingdom feared by sailors and revered by the Morgen. A legion of wicked creatures lived there, warded from humans and protected by a dyke with a strong gate to keep the sea and other intruders out—ruled by Gradlon the Great, who had a lone daughter.
“Although he often traveled between his island and Brittany, his daughter was forbidden to leave. The Church had told Gradlon she would bring imbalance and destruction to the world with her unmatched powers, impious ways. One day, during a walk along her shore, she spotted a Breton sailor through the gate, whom she fell in love with. That night, the princess stole her father’s key as he slept and opened the gates to let her lover in, submerging her kingdom in the dead of night.
“Gradlon mounted his enchanted horse, Morvarc’h, and barely escaped with his life—and his daughter. When they reached land, the clergy, king, and army waited for them. Gradlon told them of his intent to disappear into the woods, remaining untroublesome to the kingdom and its mortals. They forbade the princess from coming ashore, and so, at the urging of the Church, Gradlon tossed his daughter into the sea, along with her underwater kingdom.”
Lilac drifted asleep before Garin told her what happened to Gradlon, if the princess had ever found her escape. Her happy ending.
Darkness sweptover the queen like a beckoning shroud. A veil of in betweens, neither here nor there.
When the excruciating pain came, coupled with a terrifying searing pain against her windpipe, she almost wished to sink deeper into the abyss. The void was was peaceful and expected nothing from her; there were no clause-tethered offerings, no threat of war, or rulers who would fight for her hand and womb only for the gain of a monarchy and naval dowry.
