Page 205 of Disillusioned
“You didn’t have to run into a burning house.”
Garin’s rebuttal was cut off by a heart-rending screech.
Yanna was crouched over by the haystack near Sable and Jeanare’s heads, chunks of hay flung into the air as her arms flailed. “Gwendal?Gwendal?”
Myrddin was already at her side, heaving unsuccessfully against the large bundle. A burst of purple sparks short from his palms on the third go, causing part of the haystack to burst into flames. Myrddin cussed and hurriedly batted them out.
Garin began to stalk across the path.
Matching his stride, Lilac stared at the red dripping from his soaked pant leg as they approached Yanna. Garin didn’t seem the least bit alarmed if he noticed. “What did you do?”
“I tried to help him,” Garin replied stiffly. “One of your men.”
When they approached, Lilac shouldered the hay bale; it was heavy, but nothing that would crush her. Yanna fell upon the man laying in the dirt as Lilac gave a final shove, the hay bale rolling off and bounding to a stop at Jeanare’s side.
Garin immediately went to Gwendal’s head, shifting his hands beneath the guard’s shoulders and hooking them under his armpits. He gingerly tugged him out from the shadow of the other haystacks and nudged Myrddin aside, placing a hand against the guard’s neck.
Gwendal was a broad-shouldered fellow, strikingly handsome from what Lilac could see of his face, though he was barely recognizable with all the blood leaking from his mouth. It was splattered over his cheeks and drying in his thick black beard. His helmet had fallen off or had been removed at some point, eyes half open and bleary; she could only tell he was still breathing by the faint click behind his breastplate.
“Give him space,” Garin demanded, and she and Myrddin went to crouch at Gwendal’s head, leaving Yanna to sob at his feet. Garin’s fingers flew across the guard’s shoulders, first his left, then his right, breathing heavily. He moved down Gwendal’s arms next, loosening strap after strap, then shifted to his legs, unfastening the remaining belts beside Yanna. “Remove his gorget and pauldrons. And his gauntlets.”
Lilac’s muscles twitched as she glanced up at him in urgency, hands hovering hesitantly over the metal piece at Gwendal’s throat.
“Do you need a primer in everything?” Yanna sighed, rubbing her nose. “That neck piece, just there.”
“And his shoulders and hands,” Garin instructed. “Trust yourself.” Just like that, Lilac began to remove the plates expertly—even if she’d never done it or seen it done a day in her life. “That’s it now. Well done.”
Yanna turned her head and leaned away from Garin. “Do you control her?”
“He merely advises me,” said Lilac.
“That is a gross underestimation.” Annoyance colored Garin’s tone. “It is temporary—willbe temporary.”
“He guides her,” Myrddin interjected, coughing into his robe. “And the queen just so happens to find his adviceextremelypersuasive.”
“You aren’t helping,” Garin said between his teeth, plucking Gwendal’s leg plates off. “I tried to save him.” In the middle of removing the last plate, Garin exhaled sharply. Yanna gasped in horror—a pool of thick blood spilled out of the cavity of his armor onto the grass. “He was among those wounded in the skirmish. I heard him calling your name,” he said to Yanna. “It appears he’s been shot or stabbed in the inner groin. I’m afraid he won’t make it.” Garin bowed his head and held out his hand to her. “I’m sorry.”
Yanna stared at Gwendal, silent tears catching the moonlight as they clung to her lashes, plopping onto her reddening cheeks. She didn’t take Garin’s apology, nor his palm. “Whatever it takes.”
Garin’s brow knitted. “What?”
“Save him,” Yanna snapped, her softened gaze for her lover turning cold once it landed on Garin, then Lilac and Myrddin. “Whatever. It. Takes.”
“I cannot. Lilac is already my thrall. I won’t risk any more complications with sharing my blood and what its magic might bring.”
“But you can,” Lilac insisted, thinking back to his explanation on the way to find the Midraal Market. It felt like eons, another lifetime ago. “You can only have one thrall at a time.”
“Yes, by the typical workings of Sanguine law. But you know as well as I that nothing about our bond has been typical.”
“Fine. So sire him,” said Yanna.
“It is not that simple.” Garin passed a hand over his face. He glanced over his shoulder, then back at Gwendal. “I sired my first fledgling the night I brought Lilac to the Mine. I’ve barely been there to govern her, much less my own coven. I haven’t been back in weeks.”
“Save your self pity,” Yanna said, her fists balling in the dirt. “Gwendal is resourceful and intelligent. He’s good at the stone, used to apprentice for Hamon Martin before realizing Hamon participated in Armand’s Daemon hunts. Resigned and came to the castle shortly after. He’d be a worthy assetto your—your coven.” She couldn’t get the words out without breaking into tears. “He can’t leave. He can’t leave me.”
“If you don’t want him, then he’ll join my court alongside Yanna,” said Lilac. “And her sister, Isabel.”
“Do not say a word of it to anyone,” Yanna snapped at Garin and Myrddin, wiping at her cheeks. “Nobody knows we’re related.”
