No. No, no, no.
But despite what her conscious insisted, something in her bones urged her onward. She was on a mission, but perhaps Garin would tell her a faster route to Paimpont. Plus, had she spent the night holed up in her chamber, she’d only consume herself in rumination anyway.
Hadn’t she had enough of that?
Something in the darkest part of her soul pulled at her, begged her to let go. To experience what it would be to feel truly human.
A quick drink wouldn’t hurt.
4
The pub downstairs still teemed with creatures when Lilac entered. She had opted for a plain green Flemish dress that barely covered her cleavage and fell to her ankles. It had absolutely nothing to do with meeting the barkeep; when she packed it back in her room, she’d forgotten how low the front sat. Though she hadn’t anticipated it, a tavern seemed the most appropriate place to wear it.
It was a few hours past midnight and probably closer to dawn, but no one seemed to notice or care. The crowd of creatures flocked around the korrigan bards near the hearth. One of them sang and swayed to a folk song while the others had replaced their prior instruments for the pipes and a golden harp, which towered over the one playing it. Their haunting variation floated throughout the room and sent chills down her arms.
Garin was nowhere to be seen, and she felt a disgustingly strong pang of hurt. Maybe he’d left. Maybe his invitation wasn’t serious to begin with. That was a rite of passage to womanhood, was it not? Now that she was technically just a commoner, why did she think it’d be any different? He’d stood her up. That was that.
Two newcomers—a couple—canoodled at the bar, where a middle-aged witch had taken up the duty of drying the glasses.
“Good evening, child.” The new barkeep spoke with a wink, hazel cat eyes aglow under a fierce mane of curls. “My name is Lorietta. I’ll be serving you this evening. Now, what will it be?”
“Good evening,” Lilac replied, taken aback by the woman’s unexpected kindness. Fishing into her coin purse for a couple of gros, she chewed on her lip. “Mmm… I’ll have a glass of Bordeaux.”
The witch gave a booming chuckle. “They don’t take too well to your kind here, but a human sense of humor is always refreshing.” She placed her bare elbows unreservedly onto the bar top, a gesture that would have made her mother faint. “Really, dear. What’ll it be?”
Lilac tucked her hair behind her ears, grinning as if she had been joking. She kicked herself inwardly. Why would they serve regional wines here in the woods? How would they possibly gain access to that? Then again, someone had bewitched the bath tubs upstairs.
Next to her, the couple had engaged in a passionate kiss.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said, noting the glass of deep red hooked in the man’s fingers.
With his back to Lilac, his opposite hand crept up and tangled into the brunette’s hair. The pair had no reservation, whatsoever. The woman mewed softly, eyes closed, as he planted kisses down the back of her ear.
“Whatever… he’s having,” Lilac repeated, blushing and averting her gaze.
“Are you certain?”
“Is there something wrong?”
“Not at all,” Lorietta replied a little too innocently. “I just don’t think you want what he’s having.”
The moment Lilac looked back over to her right, she regretted it. The man was locked onto the woman’s neck like a leech. The shoulder of her white smock absorbed a small rivulet of burgundy in a slowly expanding splotch.
“Casmir,” Lorietta called under her breath. “Take your business to your room, or leave. You’re upsetting my customers.”
The vampire stopped and turned, noticing Lilac for the first time. The expression she wore must have been a sight, because he snickered and threw Lorietta a sheepish smile. His eyes were glazed over and red as the blood that smeared his mouth. He leaned toward the brunette and uttered something into her ear. She nodded and left up the stairs without a word.
Lilac blinked. She’d clearly seen Casmir drinking from the girl—yet, her throat bore no wounds resembling his bite. Only the single smear of crimson. Mildly alarmed, Lilac inhaled sharply and nearly snapped her own neck glancing around.
Should she call for help?
And, if so, whom?
In a single swig the vampire finished his glass, slid Lorietta a heaping pile of gold medallions across the bar top, and slinked after the woman.
“ I’ll take anything, please,” Lilac said shakily, suddenly unable to take her eyes off the staircase. “Something strong. I—it’s a bit drafty in here, isn’t it?”
Lorietta nodded and disappeared into the back room for a moment before returning with a steaming mug of brown liquid.
Lilac cupped the mug with her palms. The aroma was strong, surprisingly floral for its unappealing hue—then, without warning, the scent morphed into something sickly sweet. She pulled away, hoping to mask her grimace with a quick smile. “Thank you. What is this?”
“It’s an herbal blend mixed with a little liquor.” Lorietta winked. “Not exactly a lady’s drink, but it should fix you in no time.”
Lilac made a face with the first sip. Appreciating the sudden warmth that spread throughout her chest, she took another. Something in the tea tasted oddly familiar.
“Rose hip?” Lilac asked, thinking of the tea Hedwig would serve after breakfast. She smacked her lips together, trying to place the herbal notes.
The witch’s eyebrows rose. “It’s made from the berry off the Hawthorne tree. Same plant family as the rose, though. Impressive palate.”
“It’s delicious, thank you.” She cleared her throat as her father always had when hoping to derail the discussion of something he did not wish to discuss. Garden roses were usually a shrub of the upper class; she’d have to be more careful.
“So, was he drinking blood? I mean, out of the glass?” Lilac asked quietly after the steam of the brew helped clear her thoughts.
“Indeed. Have a seat and stay a while, will you? You’re making me nervous, standing there.” Lorietta motioned to the stools beside her.
Lilac climbed onto one and scooted it closer. “How do you manage to serve that here? And whose is it?”
Lorietta gave her a grim smile. “I have it bottled down here,” she said, tapping the underside of the counter. “We keep it on ice. We only bring it out to serve late in the evenings, since we don’t have many customers requesting blood until sometime past midnight.”
Eyes widening, Lilac couldn’t conceal the small gasp that escaped her lips.
“New to Brocéliande, I presume?”
“Yes,” she breathed. “Passing through.”
“We still have a few of our regular, more traditional blood donors,” she said, nodding to the staircase.
Lilac frowned, then rose her brows to make her concern appear more casual. “Oh. What about Henri’s Law?”
Lorietta shrugged. “What of it? Have you seen the place?” She cocked her head to her left, towards the riotous crowd. The room was now shrouded in a thin veil of cigar smoke, which no one, besides Lilac, seemed to mind.