As if sensing this, almost hesitantly, Garin cupped her face between his palms. He ran one thumb reassuringly over her cheek, silencing every concern plaguing her subconscious. For a moment, all moral reasoning broke within her into fragments of fragile sanity.
When he pulled back, the universe, speckled with stars of a million shrouded truths, swirled in his irises.
She wasn’t supposed to enjoy it. Not nearly as much as she did.
He kissed her again, carefully parting her lips. She inhaled sharply when her tongue found his fangs, which had sprouted; to her surprise, it didn’t slow her one bit. The caress of his hands sliding down the skin of her bare neck was almost too much to bear; grinning against his mouth, she selfishly, hungrily leaned into him.
In response to her movement, Garin withdrew from her once more, his striking features painted in disbelief. He was struggling. In attempt to avoid her eyes, his gaze had flickered down to Lilac’s ruddy lips. Then, her throat.
Stronger than fear, thrill thrummed through her like electricity. Everything was slightly blurry and frayed at the edges, as if she looked at him through a shard of beach glass. Lilac had always imagined her first kiss being a discreet act of anarchy against her parents, but this… This was more than the trite recklessness she’d considered at the inn.
This was bravery. Her entire body buzzed.
“Again,” she whispered, clutching him by the sleeves.
Garin’s chiseled arm coiled around her waist to prevent him from crushing her against the rocky wall. Lilac gasped for air when he removed himself to run his fingers up her jaw and along her cheekbone. His cool touch was soothing on her skin, but she winced when he reached where Bastion had struck her.
Lilac groaned inwardly, shimmying out from under his hand. Her own shot up to feel her face; most of the blood must’ve fallen off with the sheen of sweat she’d awoken in. Still, she was probably bruised—at least it felt like it. Her lower jaw throbbed. She’d have a grand old time constructing a lie upon her valiant return.
“All that red under your delicate skin. Does it hurt?” he murmured, confirming her suspicion. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, mesmerized by the contusion.
“Slightly. Haven’t you had a bruise before?”
He pulled back. “I was a swordsman in a prior life. No one ever got close enough to inflict a bruise.” But his sheepish grin indicated he’d had many.
“Is it bad?”
For a long moment Garin gazed at her cheek, his eyes putting even the most spectacular night skies to shame. Instead of answering, he simply said, “My brother will pay for this. Now, go.”
Lilac frowned.
“Brocéliande awaits, Your Highness.”
“Right.” Dusk had come a lot sooner than she’d thought. If only she—if they—had a minute more.
“Thank you, Garin.” She touched his arm absently, part of her wishing to remain in the grotto with him, for an unlimited amount of time. “For everything.”
He searched her face, his eyes gleaming wildly as if searching for some buried truth. “Back in the tavern, I never imagined you would be this much of a burden.” Garin bent down again, this time to press his lips to her forehead.
She shut her eyes.
“Your father has many enemies out there. Promise me you’ll be careful?”
“I’ll try,” she muttered, focusing on remembering his scent. “Will you?”
In response, he only ran his thumb across her contusion once more. The touch was fleeting, and by the time Lilac opened her eyes, he was watching her from the opposite end of the grotto.
“My bag…” She’d barely croaked the words and he was gone, sprinting up the passage to retrieve her belongings. He was back a moment later, depositing the sack at her feet before retreating across the grotto once more.
The candelabra cast an eerie glow upon the night-black wall of water. His gaze prickled the nape of her neck as she shouldered her sack and turned away from him, a strange mixture of emotions beating on in her chest. When would she see him next—if ever?
When she reached the third stepping stone, water trickling in cold rivulets around her flats, she spun on her heel and spoke hurriedly. “The next time we meet, fate granting, I shall be queen. Will that make us enemies?”
Garin remained in the shadows. He regarded her carefully. The candlelight glinted off his perfect teeth, though she couldn’t quite tell if it was a grin or a grimace.
“We’ve always been enemies, princess.”
11
Lilac emerged from the grotto drier than she’d expected. Outside the waterfall, the pool opened up into a shallow basin that trickled in from a brook upstream. A narrow mud path trailed alongside the brook, and she followed it until she was back on the outer bank.
In the early night with the moon not yet risen, the stars above glinted in content isolation. The beech trees here towered watchfully like moss-covered guardians, their trunks thicker than the earlier parts of forest she’d previously trekked through.
A raccoon snuffled in the branches of the tree nearest her, sending a single deseeded beechnut tumbling to the forest floor. The noise sent a hare, one ear bent, out of a nearby thicket and bounding across her path. Ahead of her the brook forked off into a wider area—the main river, she realized with relief.
The river sloshed and swirled behavingly to her left, now much calmer here than before. The forest was quiet—too quiet—and it wasn’t long before she found herself missing the banter that had come with the vampire’s unwanted company.
Without the distraction of running from Garin or traveling with him, Lilac grew too aware of the time passing. Without any real way to keep track of it, she missed the annoying tolling of the fortress bells for the first time in her life.
When the moon hung high in the sky, better illuminating the brush around her, the same ear-bent hare scampered past her feet. It came to a screeching halt, sniffing the air briefly before darting into the brush further away from the river. Reeling, Lilac’s pulse eventually slowed and she continued on, chuckling uneasily. After all she had been through, she surely wouldn’t begin to fright at the normal critters who called Brocéliande home.
A blue jay landed in the branches above her, giving a couple frantic yaks before taking off after the hare. Lilac frowned to herself; she wasn’t an expert on the outdoors by any means, but she didn’t think the jays were nocturnal. Then, a raccoon—the same one from before, perhaps—followed suit, staggering as fast as it’s shaggy rotund body could go.
Lilac stopped abruptly in her tracks. Something had frightened these creatures. Something headed her way.
Fists balled at her sides, she took a deep breath and dared turn around.
Nothing.
Yet, goose pimples descended down her arms. Almost instinctively, her heart began to quicken as if in preparation to bolt. “Gar—”
Her knees and knuckles skidded into the mud. She gagged, drawing in a ragged breath and struggling to regain the breath that was forcefully knocked from her. Her hand flew down to her belt—she cursed, remembering that Garin was last in possession of her blade. Why hadn’t he given it back? He’d probably forgotten, just as she had. Though the supposedly enchanted alloy hadn’t done anything magical to him, stabbing someone in self-defense was better than nothing. Now, she had nothing.