The pressure was gone, and a bloodcurdling yelp shattered the silence.
When Lilac opened her eyes, he was curled on the floor in front of her, groaning and clutching his head with both hands. She quickly righted herself, heart pounding.
“What happened? Did I do something wrong?”
“Shut,” he breathed. Then, with restraint, he lowered his voice. “Shut your beautiful mouth for a second. Please.”
Lilac couldn’t believe it. Perhaps he’d had a strong aversion or allergic reaction to her lavender oil. At the castle there had been a miserable maiden of her mother’s who’d often react to roses and oysters.
Then again, Garin didn’t look all that sick. Just furious.
Hot tears welled behind her eyes. This was what she got for making herself so desperately available. For being so vulnerable.
She stormed over to the fireside to retrieve her bag, then spun to leave—but Garin had pushed past his invisible injury. He stood, blocking the doorway. The rest of her fading buzz wore off almost immediately.
“I am leaving,” she said firmly, clenching her burlap sack with both hands to stop her fists from shaking.
The corner of Garin’s jaw twitched as if he struggled with something. “You’re not.”
Fear thrummed through her.
“I won’t harm you,” he said, desperation fraying his frustration. “You have my word—”
“Let me go,” she demanded, fighting to keep calm command of her voice.
Before he could reply, Meriam’s shrill voice floated up the stairwell and through the door.
“Garin!” the innkeeper shrieked. “They’re brawling again!” A glass shattered faintly in the distance.
Garin swore under his breath. “Don’t move. I-I’ll be right back.” He slipped out of the door and shut it again faster than Lilac could get there.
Panic rising in her chest, she tried the knob. It turned easily. He either hadn’t bothered or forgot to lock it. She swallowed against her dry throat. Both fear and humiliation were the only things stopping her from bolting down into the tavern, out the way she came. If he gave chase, she realized with a violent shudder… who in the Darkling tavern would come to her defense?
No one.
Lilac fought down another shiver. She’d find another way to escape before he returned.
Pure instinct reminded her of her belt, and the very important dagger attached to it. She scooped it up off the floor and quickly refastened it around her waist.
She needed to make every day, every minute of her trip count, and when Garin returned, who knows what he’d intended for her. She wouldn’t make it to Paimpont or back to the castle in time if she never made it out of the inn alive. Lilac held her breath and pressed her ear once more to the door. No footsteps. The only way to tell the time now was—
She bolted to the only window in the room, carved from the east-facing wall. The curtain—coarse wool, she felt as she ran her fingers frantically over it—was so thick that no light had leaked through. She yanked them open, and beams of golden dawn light poured in. Frantically, she tugged at the single brass turnbuckle. Nothing.
Heart thundering in her chest, she tugged with everything she had, clawed at the framing, but the window was stuck tightly in place. In one last desperate attempt, she grabbed the candelabra off the bedside table and smashed it twice against the turnbuckle. The whole thing popped off, and the frame easily gave with a loud creak.
She placed a foot onto the ledge and remembered her room was on the second floor. Although the fall wasn’t terribly far, she would’ve preferred not having to nurse a broken limb on the way to the witch. She hoisted herself up so she sat on the ledge and gripped onto the brick wall, fingering the rough limestone for any type of foothold. Finally, she felt the robust vines of ivy she’d noticed the night before. The chance that the vines would actually support all her weight was slim to none, but the hedge below would break her inevitable fall.
Hopefully.
Before she could decide, the door flew open with a bang behind her. Garin, in all of his wicked glory, stood in livid shock. For a split second, Lilac thought she saw a flicker of concern cross his face.
Then, he lunged at her.
With no time to solidify her grasp on the vines, Lilac gripped what was already in her palms, and jumped.
5
For the second time in the short span of her journey, Lilac found herself running blindly. Within yards of the building she stumbled upon a thin stream she’d overlooked during the night’s rainstorm. Following the water seemed like her best bet, as it’d been Ophelia’s instruction; she trailed the stream until it led up to a widened expanse of water. The Argent.
She trekked alongside it until the lack of slumber finally caught up with her. Once she made sure there was no one else around, she made her way down to a portion of bank shrouded with overgrown reeds. She stripped down and waded in until she was submerged.
It was well into day, but the rays of sunlight dancing across the water’s surface did nothing to warm the slow-moving river. She emerged, gasping, and sloshed back to the bank where she’d left her belongings.
Lilac scrubbed herself fervently while keeping her eyes peeled on the surrounding trees. She huffed in the crisp forest air, shocking herself as tears welled up in her eyes. She scrubbed the bar of soap roughly against her skin, a vain attempt to slough away the memories of the night and early morning.
She hoped to wash away the bitterness she felt toward her parents, for in her upbringing, their reputation had taken precedence over everything including teaching her to protect herself from the world and its lurking miscreants.
In the shadows of early nightfall, Lilac made her way through the mud and fallen bramble left over from the rainstorm, easing her way along the left riverbank and following it downstream. She wasn’t the strongest swimmer, and wasn’t sure how deep it got in the middle, so she was careful to steer clear of the edge especially as dusk crept into the sodden eaves. After her ogre nest incident, she was hesitant to purposely travel all too visibly along the patches of moonlight dappling the ground. Instead, she made sure to remain in the shadows, but near enough to the river that the soothing rush of water remained audible. Every so often, a small cacophony of bubbles made her wonder what other creatures lurked in there. Hopefully nothing else that wanted to eat her. She pulled her wool cloak tighter around her face as the dark deepened and her breath became visible. It would be another cold night.
She walked for what seemed like hours, but according to the speed in which the tangerine sky faded to a muted black, it was probably much less than that. When the silhouettes of the trees blended with evening and silver stars twinkled to life, Lilac paused to take a quick break. She shrugged the heavy sack off her shoulders, and unfastened her belt so she could breathe. Stretching her arms high into the air, she groaned with relief when her shoulder blades finally cracked. She then crouched over the riverbank, scooping up an icy handful and bringing it to her lips. She gulped the spring water gratefully.
A twig crunched somewhere to her left. Lilac stood and whipped around so quickly that spots danced before her eyes. It wasn’t dark enough yet that she required her lantern, and she didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to herself. But she couldn’t quite make out what was moving between the trees. Something was there, though; barely audible, the twigs and leaves continued to rustle as if bearing the weight of someone—or something. She frantically scanned the darkness.