The man sat beside him, leaving a small gap between them. “We’ve never actually met. My name is Garin Bachlach. Myrddin sent me.”
“Myrddin?”
“He protects you, does he not?”
Trystan knit his brow, recalling the dream that now haunted him nightly.Myrddin will protect you.
“Perchance, he has not told you?”
Trystan’s gut clenched. Something about the stranger bothered him. “No, I am quite aware.” He hoped the man would not see through his fib.
“Good, because I need you to come with me.” Garin spoke in a hushed voice. His eyes darted around the courtyard.
“Wherefore?”
“Because, the man who warned you earlier is not to be trusted.”
“What man?”
“The one who spoke of a prophecy.”
“You are severely mistaken, Mr. Bachlach. That man happens to be my closest friend. There is no one I trust more.”
“He has done nothing but lie to you your entire life. Then, the moment your life is in danger, he disappears. What friend would do such a thing?”
“One who trusts in my ability to protect myself.” Trystan pushed to his feet, straightening his leather jerkin. He refused to believe this stranger’s lies about Emrys. “Good den, Mr. Bachlach.”
“I came to warn you, Trystan.” Garin stood, gripping Trystan’s arm above his elbow.
Trystan narrowed his eyes. “Unhand me!” he snapped quietly, jerking his arm in an attempt to free himself from the man’s tight grip, but to no avail. Garin’s fingers squeezed harder.
“We cannot talk here.”
Trystan flinched as the sharp point of a blade pressed into his side.
“Come with me and do not speak, or I will slit you open and leave your blood-soaked body for your mate to find.”
With masked strength, Garin forced Trystan into a secluded alcove tucked away in a lesser traversed section of the garden. He forced Trystan against the wall and stepped in close, bringing the blade to Trystan’s neck, his forearm pinned across Trystan’s collarbone.
“You will regret this,” Trystan growled, his glare locked on the stranger’s cold, dark eyes.
“Mmm. Feisty.” He leaned in closer, licking into Trystan’s ear.
A shudder tore through Trystan, bile rising up his throat. He demanded his body push the nauseating man away, but his muscles failed to move, as if paralyzed. “What do you want?”
“I told you, I came to warn you. If you don’t stay away from Prince Marc, bad things will happen. Either to you or the ones you love.”
“I don’t respond well to threats.”
“You might reconsider this time,” he scowled.
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because I know who you really are.” His face twisted into a wicked grin. “You cannot hide behind your protector forever.”
Garin nuzzled the side of Trystan’s neck, inhaling as he groaned.
Repulsed, Trystan mustered all his strength and tried again to push him away, but Garin held firm. He pulled the blade across Trystan’s neck, slicing into the top layer of skin.
