Page 185 of Disillusioned
He turned the color of the coat. “The night was stressful. It was a one-time thing,” the warlock stammered. “You don’t… you don’t fancy him, do you?”
“No, of course not.”
“If you did, Garin would have his way with him, anyway,” he said, seeming eager to steer from the topic of him and Rupert. “Especially with how this bond has changed him.”
“Where is he?”
In answer, the warlock’s eyes flitted over her shoulder to Yanna. “Your servant, Your Majesty.”
“My name is Yanna,” her handmaiden snapped, tromping over. “And you should answer Her Majesty.”
“Leave,” Lilac said, whirling on her. “I don’t need your help.”
“It looks like you do. You’re interrogating Albrecht’s valet. You threwhim across the room.” Yanna sneered at both of them, her panicked countenance still so lethal that Myrddin flinched. “WhoisGarin?”
“He’s the leader of the Brocéliande vampire coven, to whom your queen enthralled herself just nights ago. He is also your emissary.” Myrddin pressed a hand to his chest. “And I am Myrddin. Still a warlock—a warlock and sorcerer, technically.”
Whatever answer Yanna had anticipated, this didn’t seem to be it. Her hands shot to her face, anger more than shock flitting across it.
There was apopand overwhelming aroma of black powder, especially pungent this time—the outline of the door burning bright violet before fading. “Just in case,” muttered Myrddin.
Yanna’s voice was scarily quiet. “Was there ever a proposition from Maximilian? Was my Gwendal always doomed?”
“Yes, there was an emissary sent from Vienna to proposition me.” Lilac reluctantly faced her, fuming and guilt-ridden. “The truth is, Gwendal was doomed the moment he decided to join the guard of an incompetent king and his corrupt men. It will remain so unless I am allowed to intervene. Otherwise, they all volunteered for their certain deaths.” The room was silent, the castle outside eerily still. “Do you feel better knowing the truth?”
Yanna swallowed, her eyes brimming with moisture. “I-if Garin is acting as emissary, then where is the man Maximilian sent?”
“I—”
Myrddin chuckled, motioning vaguely. “At the bottom of the Argent River, the meat picked off his bones by now.”
Slowly, Lilac turned to him, eyes wild. Whether he was serious was anyone’s guess; she didn’t put anything past Garin at this point.
The warlock shrugged, but Lilac gripped him by the robes and slammed him against the wall beside the fireplace. “Where is he? Garin, where is he?” Her hand found his throat.
“I don’t know!” Myrddin gargled.
Lilac slipped her dagger from her skirts. “Tell me.”
Yanna let out a disgraceful sound of protest, rushing over to them. “You’re crazy, let him go?—”
“Where?” Lilac snarled, pressing the flat edge to his throat.
“I came to tell you,” Myrddin hissed, “that he wasn’t outside. I couldn’t—find—him.”
“Then you’ll bring me to him.” She angled the blade, nicking his collarbone and drawing blood.
His lake blue eyes bulged in fear. “You know I’m immortal. I come back, every time.”
Lilac brought her lips to his ear. “It’ll take you a while if I slit you at the middle and start roasting your innards over that fire.”
“Fair.” Myrddin gulped and spoke hurriedly. “I brought Bastion and Piper to the edge of the path, watched them disappear into the treeline. I had a look in the bailey then, and couldn’t find him. Cast a quick tracking spell and my Lacewing tugged me east. But I can’t teleport?—”
Lilac plucked the blade from Myrddin before sinking it into his neck, warmth spreading across her fingers; as she withdrew the dagger and stepped back, some of the blood splattered her chest and chin.
“Fuck this,” Yanna screeched, and there was the jiggling sound of the doorknob being strangled. “Help me! Let me out!”
“Garin was right. You…” Myrddin sputtered on his blood, wheezing, gripping his neck and cursing until he dropped to his knees. “Are a marvelously ruthless creature.” Then, he went pale and fell face first onto the stone floor.
