Page 179 of Disillusioned
To this he said nothing, solemnity gracing his golden features.
“I’ll do what I have to. Your interference isn’t needed. What do you think I was doing before the two of you broke into my library?”
Myrddin’s mouth twitched as if he wished to say more. But he simply brought his hands together. The mystical sphere was gone—and the lone cormorant soared north, past the window in the foreground of the rustling trees.
There was athudbehind them.
Bastion was on the floor, barely catching himself on the edge of the desk. He stood again, glancing around the room and snarling when he finally discovered them by the window. “I have no idea what’s going on anymore. What I do know, is thatI’vebeen with the witches and those aggravating trolls. None of them think travelling to Cinderfell is a good idea. I’ve left the same letters to the Fair Folk in two separate trees, every day,” Bastion reiterated, spreading his arms. “No response. Is that not odd to any of you?”
“What’s odd,” quipped Piper, “is that, out of all of you—witches, korrigans, and other vampires—no one has found a way to deliver this chest for Lilac.”
“Wait,” interjected Myrddin as Bastion grumbled. “No, he has a point. You vampires and even we have always communicated with Kestrel this way, at least since he came into power as a young faerie centuries ago. By leaving notes in the hollows of Brocéliande’s or Huelgoat’s hawthorn trees. Then, either he or the bluejays retrieve them.”
“Does it hurt?” Piper glanced sideways at Bastion.
“Sometimes,” Bastion answered. “Not if we’re careful.”
“Hawthorn, or the Fairy Tree to the Old Faith. It is one of the oldest tree species in the world, posing a danger to various Daemons, including vampires. But they’re not the only tree connected to the Fair Folk,” Myrddin said. “The Court of the Valley has hidden entrances all throughout Brittany. Kestrel likes to craft his in the trunks of wide and sturdy trees. If you’re invited, you’re approached by his guards, who escort you to one of their nearest portals.”
“There’s one an hour or so east of the Sanguine Mine.” A shudder passed through Lilac despite the warming sun on her back. She looked over to Bastion, but he was staring at the ground, looking extremely unsettled by the notion of going to Cinderfell.
“That tree his guards brought us through,” he said. “The one they set on fire. How could I forget?”
“Faerie fire,” said Myrddin.
Lilac gasped as abrilliantthought struck her. “Can it transport items instead of people?”
“By their law, visitors must be escorted. But with a lone chest…” The warlock’s forehead creased. “The willow should transport the chest to the Court of the Valley. All it takes is a hawthorn arrow shot through the hole to ignite their fire. I’m not sure that it will work, but we can try.”
“Wonderful,” said Lilac. “And if Bastion is that afraid, then you can go with him.”
“Ah. That I’m afraid I cannot do. Garin has ordered me to watch over you here. That is the only specific command he has given me, and I am not to break it.”
“Then the redhead can come.”
Piper hissed, affronted. “That’s not my name.”
“Fine. Theother daywalkercan come.”
“You can’t expect her to—” Lilac’s shrill voice died at the look of hesitation on Piper’s face. She fully expected her friend to decline. “Oh. Do youwantto go?”
“With him? No. But I haven’t fed in days,” Piper admitted quietly. “Hedwig’s meals have been sustaining me since before I arrived. I’m just afraid of slipping into that hunger again.”
“Do you feel the hunger now?” asked Lilac, as both Bastion and Myrddin studied them.
“I mean, I could always eat, but it’s been a bit worse today. I had two servings of eggs this morning off Hedwig’s cart, tea, and a few pastries. Still feeling a bit peckish. I assume it’s time for me to find some soon.”
Myrddin’s hand passed over his face.
“What?” Bastion spat. “But you completed your transition. You bit Lilac.”
“The hunger was bad then. And it isn’t now. Idodrink it, I just don’t crave it that way.”
Bastion looked to Myrddin. “But what does she mean, she doesn’t crave it? If she’s not bound by a curse like Garin was, then what’s wrong with her?”
Myrddin was scratching his beard. “I’m not sure anything’s wrong with her, though she does exercise the will of ancient vampires. Maybe someone centuries and centuries old, like Garin’s friend Casmir.”
A string of expletives flowed under Bastion’s breath.
