Disenchanted

by Brianna Sugalski

  The moment seemed more private, somehow, and she felt like an outsider looking in. The odd spark of openness—of camaraderie—they had shared the evening before, was suddenly… not gone, but lackluster. She shifted awkwardly on her heels and turned away to instead admire the cavernous, rugged wonder surrounding them.

  Lilac cleared her throat. “Is this part of the Mine?”

  He shrugged without meeting her eyes. “That depends on who you ask. I dug it out a while ago. I used to come down here. To think.”

  “Think?” Lilac blinked.

  “Well, you’d have a lot to think about too, if you were alive for a hundred and ninety years,” he replied, a smile ghosting his lips.

  “One hundred and ninety,” she breathed.

  “If I remember correctly, I was born around the years the war began and turned the year or so before it ended—before the country’s involvement had ended, I mean. So,” he said, pretending to count on his fingers. “One hundred ninety-two, if I’m not mistaken. And counting.”

  Unable to comprehend Garin’s life span of almost two centuries, she latched onto to something a little less incredible. “You dug the grotto out? This whole thing?”

  She tried to picture the Darkling with a pickaxe, taking his anger at the world out on the poor limestone sediment. She couldn’t without laughing. Lilac bit her lip and swallowed the rising giggle.

  “Ah, no. The cave is naturally occurring. I dug the tunnel leading to it.” He mimed scooping out rock with his hands while clicking his tongue against his teeth.

  “Oh.” With his hands. Being reminded of both his immortality and his near indestructibility was sobering—and a little terrifying.

  “Indeed. Being back is strange. I couldn’t sleep so I thought I’d come down here, revisit a past life or two.”

  “What was it that you were expecting?” She spoke almost hopefully, but only responded with a solemn smile. He had shelled up overnight.

  Garin didn’t reply.

  She followed his forlorn gaze to the trickling wall of water beyond. The pond must have softened the harsh sunset, as the light did not affect him in the slightest. Instead, the rays cast an ethereal shade to his somber stare.

  He was the picture of desperate beauty. Of a lifetime the forest had stolen from him and, in turn, repaid with darkness.

  Lilac gulped, suddenly aware of her own heartbeat; that each moment passing was time with him, slipping away.

  “Garin,” she began hesitantly.

  “Not to fret, princess,” he interjected curtly without meeting her gaze. “I told you, I always keep my word. Thank you for helping me. You are free to go.”

  Lilac froze mid step. How odd it was, that as soon as he’d uttered the words she’d been dying to hear, there was a sudden reluctance in the pit of her belly she certainly did not expect to feel. Absently chewing on her lip, she mirrored him and stuck a toe into the shallow water.

  “It’s not that. I never got to tell you how sorry I was to hear of Laurent’s death.”

  As if breaking from a spell himself, Garin blinked twice and finally faced her.

  “I don’t mean to be insensitive by mentioning him now,” she said softly. “It must be hard.”

  The other words she meant to say stuck behind the lump in her throat. That she was sorry he’d lost his father and mentor. He’d been forced to face the coven that had rebuked him. In the midst of it all, an enormous responsibility had been bestowed upon him and beneath all that, he still struggled with his own demons.

  Much like her, he was cursed in his own way.

  Garin laughed unexpectedly. “Apologizing for your kindness. How endearing.” He stretched his long arms high above his head and gave a disjointed growl in attempt to shake off the sorrow. “Anything is possible, princess. We both know that. But a Darkling assassinating Laurent is as likely as a human farm boy trying to assassinate your father. Possible, but not probable. It’s a death sentence that none of us want.”

  Lilac swallowed. She didn’t expect her apology to sour his mood, at least this quickly. “

  That’s not what I…” she trailed off. “I can assure you, it wasn’t one of my family.”

  “And if it was?”

  She had no answer. An unexpected wave of emotion washed over her before she spoke again. “Garin, I need to ensure my people are going to be safe. At least, as safe as I can promise them.” As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. How humanely selfish of her. She glanced sideways, anticipating his angry glare.

  Instead, the vampire regarded her curiously, head cocked. He padded through the damp clay, closing the gap between them. She backed away from his sudden movement, but he stopped her, grasping her forearms with a startling gentleness. “Princess. Despite the dark blood that runs within my own veins, and the human, saccharine blood that runs within yours,” he whispered, “you stand in my presence more or less unharmed. I kept you safe, as I said I would. Even in the presence of my unruly brother.”

  “I know—it’s not me I’m worried about. My people,” Lilac insisted, hands in fists as Garin held her arms. “My family…”

  A murky smile played on his lips. “Don’t you see?” His eyes were coals, smoldering against the quivering candlelight, and suddenly, something human in him grasped at her. The scent of his breath, unexpectedly syrupy, drew her closer still. “Don’t you think that if I wanted to seek revenge on humanity and on your kingdom, that I’d start with you?”

  His low voice and threat in his words ruffled her, and she struggled to keep her own tone level as she replied. “The only reason you haven’t killed me is because you are unable.”

  “Is that so?” As fast as he’d grabbed ahold, he released her. The vampire backed away, pacing restlessly up the curved perimeter of the pond. “As young as you are, there’s no way you could begin to fathom the things I am capable of. Even your wretched father was but an infant when Bastion and I terrorized the streets of Rennes, Paimpont, and the bordering towns… Before I—” He cut himself off with an agonized groan. The shadows cast upon his tortured face made him look like a madman.

  Any attraction Lilac had previously felt was instantly smothered by fear. She peeked back at the stone path. Before she could calculate how quickly she’d be able to escape if she needed to, he loomed over her.

  “Hear me out, princess,” he said, enunciating every vowel with crystal clear diction. “You’re not wrong. I am not Laurent. My conscience never bared much semblance to his when he was alive, and it certainly does not now.

  “Before my curse, I was unstoppable. Bastion and I wreaked havoc on everything and everyone in our paths. My brother was right, it was glorious. And then,” he said, his face twisting into something like despair, “I crossed the wrong person.” He laughed darkly. “Look at me now. It’s bad enough that I let you escape from me at the inn. That I allowed you your life when you dared run from me at the campsite. Yet, here you are, not a drop of blood spilled at my doing.”

  “I’d say that’s a good thing, an improvement, even,” she mumbled quickly, wracking her brain for anything consoling, anything humanizing to say that might bring him back to sanity. “It shows you can exercise your powers when necessary, and that you have some restraint.”

  “Restraint? Restraint?” Garin laughed again, a cruel edge to his voice, which cracked against the high ceiling. “Lilac, I’m starving,” he snarled.

  He was unstable. Lilac stumbled backward while he spoke, retreating step after squelching step until her hands found the stone wall behind her.

  “The future mortal queen in my hands,” he mused to himself, stalking toward her. Lilac recoiled when he extended his hand to touch her. Instead, he frowned at his outreached fingers, then at her, as if catching himself. He carefully pulled his arm back. “And I can’t even bring myself to harm a hair on your head.”

  “Then don’t,” she said simply, the words coming out a request. Her heart thudded wildly in her ribcage. She froze beneath his shadow
and fought the shivers back.

  His hostility was a sham, if she’d read him right. He lashed out because he was feeling cornered, and even then, he’d refused to touch her. She’d take extra care to give him the space.

  The sunlight beyond the waterfall had faded, leaving only the cobalt of dusk and trembling golden light of the candles.

  “I could kill you,” he whispered. “Right here. Right now, for what your parents have done to Brocéliande. To avenge my sire’s death—we both know he’s dead at human hands. I should. I’ve had so many opportunities.”

  “Garin—”

  “There are plenty of other ways to do it. No one’s around to help you for acres. I could, then your beloved would come for me… ” Garin licked his lips. “What a delicious battle to the death it would be.”

  “You won’t.” He wouldn’t. “You’re scared of all that’s been going on. So am I. But killing me, or another innocent, for that matter, won’t bring Laurent back. You can’t seek revenge until you’re certain of who’s responsible. Any other expended effort would then prove a waste of time.”

  Garin’s furious expression changed to one of torment.

  “So, do as you wish,” she challenged resolutely, pushing herself off the grotto wall and closing the space between them. “It’ll only make you scared, and lonely.”

  As if suspended in time, the mortal princess faced the prince of night, each equally unwilling to give in to the other. Lilac stood glaringly beneath him. Garin’s nostrils flared, his chest heaving slowly.

  In her mind, a tiny voice urged her to run. Keep talking him down, then push. Flee. Anything to get away from the devastating beast. But she was stuck, even as she watched his mouth draw ever nearer. The scent of spruce and evening dew began to fill her head.

  She’d pay for her display of courage again… this time, with her life.

  Garin’s lips brushed against hers ever so slightly. His overwhelming sweetness drew her nearer before their mouths briefly met. Nerve endings shot off in places she never knew existed, and her steadying pulse grew erratic again.

  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.

  She rolled onto her side; her sack lay open just feet away, her box of matches wedged in the mud beside it. She scrambled for it—she could set her assailant on fire—but two strong hands dug vice-like nails into her ankles and dragged her back as if she were weightless.

  Lilac screamed as the hands flipped her onto her back, slamming her into the dampened earth like a trout on the dock. For a moment she was immobilized. The crescent moon had finally peaked, just visible through the leafy canopy. A dark figure moved over her, blocking out the moonlight and straddling her legs to keep her pinned.

  The creature was surprisingly petite, but wielded the weight and strength of a grown man. Lilac thrashed, writhing and screaming as she tried to escape the creature’s painful grasp. Sharp, broken nails clawed against her arms like iron prongs until the hands they belonged to had wrestled her flailing fists to the ground. Long vines tickled Lilac’s face, the most foul, pungent odor embedded in them. Lilac gagged between screams, realizing with dread that it was hair trailing over her face.