Chapter 19

CHAPTER NINETEEN

I'd forgotten about the owl.

The beast lifted disdainful blue eyes at my appearance, ruffling its feathers in annoyance.

Well I beg your pardon for coming into my own room. Then I clamped down on my frustration, chewing on my bottom lip. I couldn't very well interrogate Sawyer with the owl here. It had obviously recovered from this morning, as it was perched on its stand on the fireplace mantle. A few feathers were out of place, and it looked to be sulking as it hunched away from the fading light emanating from the western windows.

No, not sulking. It was still sleepy.

With a burst of speed, I snatched the barn owl from its perch and hurried to the nearest window before it could bite me. It certainly had enough wits to screech at me, its blue eyes wide like two full moons. I kept my own eyes slitted and my face turned away as I unlatched the window and shoved it open with my shoulder in practiced movements.

"You were a good birdie," I lied, "but your services are no longer required. Byeeee!"

I stuffed the bird out the window, yanked it shut as its talons raked angrily against the glass, latched it, then slapped the drapes from their tiebacks. The thick burgundy fabric swept over the diamond-pane glass, blocking the furious barn owl from sight.

It took only a moment to do the same with the rest of the windows until the bedroom was shrouded in darkness.

"Is it safe to come out now?" Sawyer ventured from the foraging bag.

I didn't trust myself yet to speak to him, so I kept my hand clamped over the zipper so he couldn't force himself out, then summoned my magic. It sprang so willingly, albeit a little sluggishly, to my hand that my heart fluttered with happiness. It was short-lived, as I had an interrogation to attend to. Pinching the wicks of the candles in the candelabra with glowing fingers, I lit the candles with green flames that quickly turned yellow. After setting the candelabra on the nightstand, I unzipped the bag and dumped the cat out onto the bed.

Sawyer landed easily and spun around to face me, his luminous amber eyes shining with delight. His whiskers twitched with matching excitement, and he sat back on his haunches like a begging dog, lifting his paws in the air. "I can do spells!" he exclaimed. "I'd forgotten, of course, but check this out! Lumosa dilitare! "

Without consuming any extra wax, the candleflames expanded three times their original size, flooding the bedroom with light. It was enough for the excited tabby cat to see the severity on my face and for his own delight to falter.

"M-Meadow?"

I lifted two glowing green hands. I couldn't summon battle magic yet, but the vines that wreathed my hands could become thorny and cutting with a thought.

"I trusted you," I hissed. "I trusted this Ame. And what did I get for it? A setup!"

The tabby cat hunched himself into a tight loaf in the middle of the bed, tail tucking in under his body. "What are you t-talking about?"

"The embers!" I shouted. "‘Go to the farmhouse by the apple orchard to recharge the ember.' Well that's just fine and dandy, until there was a booby trap where I couldn't get it back!"

"I didn't know!" Sawyer cried, his gaze flicking from one of my glowing hands to the other as the vines snapped and writhed. "I swear! Ame would have told me."

"Would she? She's a cat. And so are you! Maybe Ossian was right to banish your kind from his court."

"But I'm your cat!" He stood up straight then, sticking out his chest to show off the inscription on his moonstone collar. It was still on the side that read SAWYER , but the intention was understood. "And I can prove it. I didn't just remember I could do spells in that farmhouse!"

He flung out his paw in clear demand that I take it.

I glared at him, caught in a tempest of whether or not I should believe him. I was about to threaten him with repercussions if he should try anything when I realized it was moot. With two-thirds of my core free, he was no match for me, magic cat or not.

And I so wanted to believe him, to know I had a friend who would stick with me through thick and thin, one that Ossian didn't know about and couldn't take away from me.

Clenching my teeth, I grabbed his paw.

" Animus ligare brevis ," the tabby cat intoned.

Something foreign yet familiar touched my mind. If I hadn't been so used to Ossian's presence—welcomed or not—I would have recoiled instantly. But my heart, my spirit, understood this to be Sawyer. And recognized him. Not as a recent acquaintance, not as a long-lost friend, but as intimately as I knew myself. On the trunk of my recently freed oak tree, an amber-colored rune flared to life. While not bright, it matched the exact color of Sawyer's eyes. When I spared the stunned moment to examine it, I discovered it not to be a rune at all, but a silhouette in his exact likeness. Had it been there all along, imprinted on me and just waiting to be acknowledged? Or was it simply the spell he'd cast?

Whatever the explanation, it took only a second to relax my guard, to welcome him, before my mind was flooded with memories.

Running side by side in an orchard.

Sunning ourselves on a gingham picnic blanket.

Raiding a gypsy warlock's wagon for the toirchim glaze.

Him racing around a barn with a lure attached to his tail as an entire flock of chickens chased after him.

Fighting alongside a werewolf against blue-eyed coyotes.

Then dozens if not hundreds of memories of him rubbing his head under the chin, of me scratching his ears and scruff, of my fingers digging burs and thorns out of his fur, of his paws kneading on my lap—

It was too much. I broke away from him with a gasp, chest heaving. Then I choked out, equal parts confused and hurt, "So you're not in league with my grandmother, but how can we share all that and you not bond to me as my familiar?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't bond Arthur!" he fired back, tears in his amber eyes.

I shook my head in disbelief. "Who's Arthur?"

"Who's…" The tabby tomcat's eyes went so wide they threatened to pop like overfilled party balloons. Then he whispered, "You don't remember Arthur?"

"I don't remember a bunch of things," I shouted bitterly.

Sawyer sprang upright. "Take those ruby earrings off. Right now."

"No!" My hands flew to the thumb-sized rubies dangling from my earlobes. They were shaped like pears. "Ossian gave these to me—"

"And I know a thing or two about crystals, remember?" he replied tartly. "Rubies, meant to enhance the feelings of love and lust. And trust me, they're working overtime."

My brown braid nearly lashed me across my cheeks, I shook my head that hard. Something in—no, around— my heart twisted, like a hand clenching around a weed before ripping it to its death, rebelling violently to his words. Was that my reaction, or the bond's? Regardless, the words tumbled vehemently from me anyway: "Ossian wouldn't do that. He's my mate. We belong together!"

"You belong with Arthur. That fae is tricking you!"

"Shut up!" I cried, clapping my hands over my ears. Thistle thorns, my head hurt so much. "Shut. Up !"

Still blocking out his deceitful words, I ran from the bedroom. The cold dark hallway swallowed me as I fled for the foyer. For Ossian. He'd been right all along. Cats couldn't be trusted. They said horrible, confusing things, upended your perception of reality, beguiled you with purrs and snuggles—

Wheezing, I was forced to slow at the foyer and brace myself against the stone archway to suck in a few deep breaths. My stomach growled presently, reminding me of all the energy I'd expended at the farmhouse and the mad dash back to rose courtyard. I ignored it and forged ahead at a slower but still brisk pace.

Ossian wasn't tricking me. Though, he was holding me back. Not intentionally, but if I didn't have access to a true source of magic or life essence to help me lift the rest of the curse from my core, I'd never summon and anchor the portal before the deadline. The potted plants were just too slow, and how many did Flora really have left? Her greenhouse wasn't extensive and winter was right around the corner. I'd have to take from the land, cull entire forests, if I was brave enough to sneak out beyond the castle again. It was risky. Though no more risky than sneaking into the one place I knew there was stored magic to be had.

Ossian's silversmithy, where he kept all the crystals I had charged.

I could always recharge them. He'd never have to know. And like Flora had said, it was better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.