Lilac tried to squeeze past him, but he continued to block her exit from between the barstools on either side of her.
He bent his head, brow knitting with concern. “You’ll still join me for a drink, won’t you? Please, allow me to treat you. I insist.”
His eyes were doing the thing again. Lilac rubbed her elbows absently, her mind starting to cloud. There was something layered between his words and fluid gestures that she could not place.
She turned to Lorietta, who stared curiously past her at Garin. They were obviously acquaintances; the witch then rolled her eyes and continued wiping her counter. If Lorietta wasn’t worried for her, he was probably harmless, Lilac decided. And interacting with him might be worth it; if he was brave enough to work in the middle of Brocéliande, he obviously knew what he was doing and where he was going. He might even provide useful advice for her trip ahead.
As much as she hated admitting it, she’d need an ally sooner or later. Even if only for the night.
As if sensing her guard dropping, Garin leaned over. “What’s that you’re sipping on?” He peered curiously into the mug.
“Some tea.”
“Hey Lori,” he called, casually sliding an arm past her and pushing the mug away. “I’ll take a glass of Scotch,”—he held up three fingers—“and your best red for the lady.”
Lorietta threw him a sharp warning glance. “You know Meriam doesn’t approve of us drinking here. You work here, remember?”
He licked his lips and repaid it with a saccharine grin. “It’s my off time. She can bite me.”
At this, the barkeep shot him a look before sighing resignedly. “Whatever. I’ll bring it over. Anything to eat? Keep in mind we don’t have very much to offer,” she directed curtly at Lilac.
It never occurred to the princess that the inn would serve anything to eat; it did double as a tavern after all. The news immediately perked her up. She chewed on her lip, hoping to God they served human food. Or anything palatable. Frowning, she realized there didn’t seem to be a menu up anywhere.
“Erm… Toast? Eggs?” The words came out like questions.
“Toast. Eggs. Anything else?” Lorietta repeated with a nod.
“Ham?”
“No ham this week. Only thing we have is partridge, I’m afraid.”
Lilac smoothed out a grimace with a clear of her throat. A common peasantry dish. “Is that… roasted?”
“One roasted partridge. Anything else?”
Lilac bit her lip. She could see Garin’s jaw hanging in shrewd shock within her peripheral, but she ignored him determinedly. “Pastries?”
“Sorry, dear. Sweets were all cleared out by this afternoon. We’ve had quite a large group of faeries here tonight.”
“The tragedy,” Garin said quietly.
“That’ll be all for me,” Lilac murmured, ignoring him. Plus, her mood had substantially lifted after learning she’d soon have something to eat.
She smirked and turned to Garin. “You know, it would really be kind of you to paint Lorietta a nice menu board or something. You know, on your off time.”
“And I’m not hungry,” he added annoyedly, sliding Lorietta a handful of gros.
With that, the witch disappeared through the kitchen door suppressing a smile. Garin wordlessly led Lilac to a cramped stone alcove on the northern wall, right next to the stairwell. Lilac slid into the end of the wooden bench closest to the bar, giving her a better view of the tavern’s open floor. She knew better than to turn her back on a roomful of Darklings.
By then, the crowd had cleared most of the tables and chairs out from the middle of the room. They surrounded around the trio of korrigan bards, who’d somehow procured fiddles and used one of the wooden chairs as a drum. The group of faeries were the true center of attention, writhing their torsos to the beat. The dresses they wore were enchanting, crafted intricately from precious metals and jewels strung through mesh. The material clung to their voluptuous curves like a scintillating second skin as the korrigan sang in mesmerizing harmony.
“Lurking faerie in the tree
Turned his guiling face at me
He put aside his mirth and minx
And sang about a stubborn prince
Who, on a midnight like tonight,
Gave the Fair King quite the fright
An arcane weapon was amiss
Though his dastardly deed repaid with
the midnight monster’s troubling kiss…”
It must’ve been a Darkling bard song; she’d never heard it before. Lilac pretended not to understand, blinking and refocusing on Garin.
He, who sat across from her on the alcove bench, was still fixated on the gyrating faeries. One hand tousled in his hair with his other arm leaning on the table, his gaze was distant. He didn’t seem to be looking at anything in particular.
“Are you all right?” Lilac asked. When he didn’t respond, she grunted and reached across the table to tap his arm.
He started, then threw her a sinful grin. “Thanks.” Then seeing Lilac’s glare, he added, “Their… aura tends to give off a powerful magnetism. One gets lost in their presence if he or she watches too long. I got carried away. My apologies.”
Lilac pursed her lips, miffed. “Oh, I don’t care,” she replied coldly, purposefully sounding as ungenerous as possible.
"I overheard the tail end of your and Lori’s conversation, and gathered that you were new to the woods. I don’t mind explaining,” he offered. His smile turned sincere. “You would be at risk too, say, if there were a male fae present—”
“Assumptions,” Lilac snapped, growing more annoyed by the second.
This seemed to catch him off guard. He cleared his throat. “Oh, erm. Is it the women, that would do it for you, then?” He shifted in his seat, unable to help himself as his upper lip curled into a wolfish grin.
“That was not what I meant,” she replied, turning scarlet. She wasn’t here losing sleep to entertain his perverse fantasies. Not in the slightest.
“I’m serious,” Garin insisted. He cocked his head sideways. “Have you… never seen a faerie before?” he inquired curiously.
“Can’t say I have.”
“That explains it. So, it’s not just me—these creatures will affect everyone. Darklings and humans alike.
Get too caught up in their aura when they dance, and they’ll be able to convince you to do their bidding. Almost anything they want. Commit murder and flee the kingdom. Leave your spouse for a horned toad. Slit your own wrist… It’s brilliant, actually.”
“Like vampires can?”
Something had caught in Garin’s throat, and he took a moment attempting to dislodge it. “Yes, it’s similar. But far more powerful than a vampire’s entrancement.”
Just then, Lorietta appeared at the edge of the table with a tray. She placed Lilac’s plates and both their drinks onto the table, departing with a sideways glance at Garin.
“Why does she keep looking at you like that?” Lilac finally asked.
“She’s like my mother, in a way,” he replied, peering into his glass of scotch. “I’ve worked here a while. And she’s staring, because a lovely maiden like yourself is either bored or fool enough to willingly grace my presence.” He gave a little bow in his seat. “You’ll learn to ignore her.”