Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As I hunched low over her neck, Daphne and I peered around the edge of the brick archway. It was part of the castle estate's outer wall where the wards began, and the stone crows that perched at regularly spaced intervals along its top would screech the alarm if anyone unwelcome attempted to let themselves in. But apparently, not cats.

The stone crow, easily the size of an eagle, remained silent as we passed under the archway, but the honey badger on the other side did not.

"Coming home this close to sunset, are you out of your mind?" Flora shrilled. "The castle's in an uproar and if I can smell your return, then you can bet a dozen other beasts—"

I practically threw myself from Daphne's back, staggered on jelly-like legs for a moment, then smooshed my hand over the raging honey badger's mouth. "If they haven't smelled us yet, they'll definitely hear you caterwauling and come over to investigate!"

Flora shook me off. "You don't have time to shush me!" She rammed me in the back of the legs in a poor attempt to herd me forward. It only ended up buckling my knees, and I collapsed on the lawn. She snatched up the corner of my woolen gown and gave it a vicious yank. "You need to get back to the courtyard quick," she said behind a mouthful of fabric. "Chop, chop!"

Daphne's white ears pricked as we all became aware of faraway shouting and the sound of thundering feet. "What is going on here? It sounds like we're under attack!"

Flora spat out my dress as I hauled myself upright. "I'll explain on the way. Hurry!"

"My white coat will only draw attention," Daphne said. She turned in the opposite direction. "I'll provide what distraction I can. Go, dear!"

Hunched over and flicking the rest of my precious masking sand to hide my trail, I scrambled after Flora. The estate gardener, she knew all the best hiding places and led me without hesitation through this section of the grounds. We were plastered up against a boxwood topiary shaped like a rearing unicorn when she began, "Your fae just returned a few minutes before Alec and the rest of his idiots' horses came back riderless and half-crazed. The whole castle's in an uproar—they think it's a hobgoblin attack."

We darted to the topiary shaped like a winged panther. "He couldn't make heads or tails of what the horses were saying, some rubbish about a swarm of silver hornets, and he's in a beastly state."

She fell silent as we dashed to the cedar colonnade then to the yew bushes opposite the fountain garden that abutted the rose courtyard. The honey badger lifted her nose to scent the wind before hustling to the fountain. I crouched behind the cold stone basin as we scanned the castle walls for any guards. While Ossian wasn't in the habit of employing them, there was a first time for everything.

And there, just a short sprint away though the hydrangea hedges was the wall and the rope of woven willow branches, just where I'd left it.

"He sent them back out and was bolstering the wards, but he'll be coming to find you any second now," Flora finished in a whisper. "He bellowed something about this being a distraction to kidnap you or whatever."

At her hiss, we scurried the rest of the way to the wall. I shoved the empty masking sand vial into my pocket, silently kicking myself for not refilling it from the stores in the farmhouse's hearth room. I'd seen the myriad jars and bottles on the shelves as I'd come in from collecting firewood, but I'd been so focused on the embers that I hadn't taken the time to explore.

Presently, I wrapped the willow rope around my arm and gripped it tight. Flora glanced this way and that to make sure the coast was clear. "Go, cider witch! I hear someone by the cedars."

The honey badger dashed off to intercept whoever it was as I sent a magical request to the rope. The willow hauled me straight up, and I grunted as I landed ungracefully on the top of the wall. The young tree seemed to apologize for the graceless man-handling, and then we both shivered as a fist pounded against the door.

"Meadow!" came the fae king's hail.

Thistle thorns! If he caught me up here, there was no telling what he would do.

I jumped, clinging to the willow's trunk like a squirrel and sliding down to the ground. The lock was scraping open just as I whipped the white fur coat off the stacked potted plants and swirled it over my shoulders. A burst of green magic sent the terra-cotta pots to the ground, surprisingly not breaking them. I had only a second to wrap my arms around the willow tree like I was communing with nature when the door to the courtyard burst open.

" Meadow. " It was half shout, half snarl, and one-hundred-percent vicious.

And just like that, I broke.

It was too overwhelming—the sneaking off to the farmhouse, the victory I found there, then losing the embers, that strange writing in the ashes, the Brotherhood almost finding us, the sacrifice of the pixies, the strange mirror in the woods, the sneaking back into the castle, pinning Sawyer in the foraging bag between me and the willow so the fae king wouldn't smell him, and whatever that had been in Ossian's voice.

Tears flooded my eyes and sluiced down my cheeks as ugly, chest-wracking sobs tore through me.

"Love," the fae king cried, startled. "Oh Meadow, I wasn't— I didn't meant to snap—"

I shuddered as his arms circled around me, trapping me in my embrace against the tree. His chest pressed against my back, the rhythm of his panting breath matching the tempo of my sobs, and his check rested against the top of my head.

"I wasn't yelling at you, love," he murmured against my hair. "I thought you'd been taken."

"W-why?" I blubbered.

He shook his head. "Some foolishness with Alec and the horses. It'll be alright. You're safe." He paused, and from the way his body shifted against mine, I could tell he was looking around at all the empty pots and shriveled roses of the courtyard. "Why are you crying, love?"

Think, Meadow! Think! You can't tell him—

"I c-couldn't drain the willow tree," I whispered, sniffling. "It would be too dead in here. I couldn't bear it."

"It's just a tree, Meadow."

It's not enough. You have to make it believable!

"And… and—"

"And what, love?"

"The ember died!" I released the willow tree to swivel in his arms, scooting the foraging bag behind me to keep it trapped against the tree and out of sight—and smell—of the fae king.

His jewel-bright eyes narrowed as I lifted the censer, and he released one hand to lift the gold sphere higher so he could peer at the dead coal inside. Something flashed across his eyes—triumph, if I had to name it—before he abandoned the censer to cup my cheek. His thumb smeared the tears from my skin a little too roughly, but that was a fae male's strength for you.

"I know that was your last connection to your family, love, but good riddance," he said softly. He pulled me against his chest then, stroking my hair. "You are fully mine now, Meadow."

That sentiment should've comforted me more than it did, but I leaned into him, truly crying for what I had lost now. Grandmother had laid one last trap for me, cutting me off forever from the Hawthornes, and… I never would have fallen for it had it not been for Ame telling me to go to the farmhouse.

Ame. I choked back my tears, my skin flushing with rage. The golden haze that pervaded my mind any time the fae king was near faltered under my anger.

"Oh love," Ossian cooed, misunderstanding. "It's better this way. You'll realize that when you're warm and fed. Come on."

One hand anchored on the foraging bag, with Ame's accomplice inside, I let the fae king lead me into the castle. I was glad for his assistance—Sawyer hadn't drained my fatigue away while we were in the farmhouse, and I felt a weariness saturating me down to my bones.

Instead of taking me to the foyer and the east wing, we diverted to the atrium. Ossian was blathering on about my core, but my thoughts were fixated on something else: answers . All I wanted to do was get back to my room, rip open that bag, and pin that tabby cat to the wall or the bed or somewhere he couldn't escape so he could explain to me, thoroughly , just what in the name of all good and green was going on here. I barely registered I was touching the cloch na wight until the fae king's exclamation shattered my scheming thoughts.

"It's pink!" He seized my face before I had a moment to confirm the color of the wight's smoke. "Let me in."

"Wait—"

I screamed as the fae king's presence forced himself through the channel of our bond, spine arching as what felt like fire scorched through my mind. Then it was gone, his consciousness hovering next to mine above the oak tree. Before I could berate him for basically assaulting me, he whispered in awe, "Look!"

I'd been too preoccupied with wiggling my toes in time to the roots' flexing to notice the extent of the embers' help at the farmhouse. Before me was an oak tree with strong roots and a fully revealed trunk. Two-thirds of my core had been freed.

I would've leapt for joy had the knowledge that I no longer had access to the very magic that had helped free me not turned my feet into cinder blocks.

Ossian's presence withdrew, and after a blink, I returned to the physical world and squeaked as he hauled me into his arms. Thistle thorns, everything hurt. My legs, unaccustomed to horseback riding, my hands and arms from the strain of climbing and being wrenched by the willow, my mind from Ossian's invasion.

"What you did just then," I began.

But Ossian wasn't listening. He snatched me by the waist and gave me a twirl, jewel-bright eyes sparkling. "You're amazing, Meadow! What you did— We're going to celebrate!" He set me down, stole a fierce kiss from my stunned lips, and hustled me out of the atrium. "Go, get warm and cleaned up. I'm going to have Mrs. Bilberry prepare a feast. Keep this up, and we'll be in Elfame by the new moon."

While I was indeed starving and in need of a bath, I was more intent on correcting his high-handed behavior. I was his mate, yes, but that did not grant him access to me and my mind or body without my consent. Not even the golden haze that made me gooey around him could sway me from this. "Ossian—"

"Not exactly auspicious," he muttered to himself, "but perfect to mask my return. Oh, Callan, you have no idea what's coming to you."

"Ossian!" I was a second away from stamping my foot, maybe even wrapping a tendril of magic around his throat and yanking him down to eye level. I certainly could manage such a feat now.

He turned, but it was only to plant a kiss on my forehead. It was half affection, half farewell, his lips pushing me away as if to shove me down the east wing. "See you in the great hall in an hour, love. Make that two. You need a thorough cleaning. Smells like you've been romping around in the woods all day."

Then, with that fae speed of his, he was gone.

"Gah!" I shouted, throwing up my hands.

My frustration echoed off the arched ceiling of the foyer to no avail. Spinning on my heel, I faced the east wing and marched towards my room. At least there was one offender who wouldn't escape me so easily.