Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

I'd only eaten half of my scrambled eggs when the bear came awake, possibly roused by the scent of the food. He managed only one growl before Ossian waved his hand and a copper-colored sphere enveloped the beast so the only one he would deafen with his bellowing was himself.

I shifted uncomfortably in my cushioned seat, my appetite dwindling. "I still don't understand why he has to be here . You know, in the great hall?"

Ossian set his beer down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "Do you know of another room big enough to hold him?"

No, but then I hadn't explored the entirety of the castle either. There was only one door I hadn't opened yet, a big black door at the end of a narrow stone hall that only Ossian had the key to. I knew it led to a lower floor, and just as instinct told me never to remove that Celtic shield from my neck nor leave my foraging bag unattended, it told me that the subterranean level was not just a simple basement housing the furnace and boxes of yuletide decorations. Nor did it only house Ossian's silversmith workshop.

Sometimes, late at night, I thought I could hear voices emanating from behind that door, and silver definitely couldn't talk. And Ossian had sworn to me there were no dungeons on the premises, for what if one of Wystan's accomplices got loose and tried to kidnap me? No, those criminals were kept confined in an old barn, now fortified, outside of town for the Brotherhood to interrogate as they saw fit.

Part of me itched to filch a bottle of Riesling from Mrs. Bilberry's pantry and ask Emmett Trinket for an antique lockpick set and go exploring what lay beyond that black door, but the other and bigger part of me knew I didn't have the time. My curiosity wouldn't help me break the curse Grandmother had put on my magic.

"Why not chain him outside in the courtyard then?" I asked. "His fur's thick enough to endure the weather."

Ossian gave me a bemused look and leaned forward to cover my hand with his. "He nearly killed you and you're thinking about how his fur will protect him from the elements? You're too kind, love." He shifted back in his seat and proceeded to rip apart his second game hen with efficient, practiced movements that seemed almost callous. "And stake him outside the wards of the castle? So he can chew off part of himself and escape? I don't think so."

"Then why keep him at all?"

"Because he's our enemy." His eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. "He stays here until our work is done. Then, when he knows he has truly failed, I will kill him."

I flinched at the cruelty of his words, and behind the copper barrier, the grizzly bear roared.

The fae king wasn't even the least perturbed. He jerked his chin at my half-eaten breakfast. "Finish up, love. And drink your tonic. Need you fresh for the day."

"That's not going to happen," I grumbled, stabbing at my bacon. "There's mice in my walls or something. They've been keeping me up for days now."

" Days? "

I choked on my bacon, startled by his anger, and groped for the tonic to force the bite down. Wincing, I forced myself to drain the foul concoction and just get it over with. The fizzy red liquid that was supposed to taste like fruit punch but was always too sour in my opinion.

"So you've been coming to our training sessions already prepared to fail from lack of sleep?"

"It's not like that! I put everything into unlocking this stupid curse Grandmother put on my magic. How dare—"

"Meadow, we have limited time," he said, the melody of his voice replaced by granite. "We cannot have you sleep-deprived or malnourished or unhappy. It's why, despite the waste of time, I've allowed you in the kitchen to bake your little breads and sweets and to have regular visits with your friends. You earn those distractions, though, by putting one-hundred-percent of your focus into your training. There are consequences to breaking a fae bargain! And it's not just your life that's at stake if you fail, but mine too."

His anger was gone, replaced by helpless desperation. It wasn't his literal life on the line, of course, but his heart as my fated mate. He'd told me the heartache would be excruciating, that he would wish he was dead. How could he continue living without me in his life? Was I so selfish to think only of myself?

"Ossian, I—"

"Alec will take care of your vermin problem when he returns," he said firmly.

"No!" I didn't want that man anywhere near the east wing, let alone my bedroom. And Ossian still hadn't questioned him about that fiasco with the bear. "What's a man going to do anyway? If they're mice, send a cat after them."

"A cat ?" The veins in his forearms stood out in sharp relief under his skin like mole tunnels across a grassy yard as his hands balled into fists against the table. "I have only a handful of rules in my court, Meadow, and the top one is absolutely. No. Cats."

Like the off-limits black door at the end of the hall, this rule had never been explained to me. It'd just been something I'd been expected to accept.

"You're the king, tell them to stop," I said.

He gave me a sour look. "Mice have pitiful memories and I'm not around to constantly remind them. I am defending a court from monsters, after all, as well as trying to find a summoning ground."

"Then another predator," I said. "Flora, maybe. Honey badgers eat anything."

Ossian didn't seem to like that idea very much and countered with, "I'll bring you an owl tonight."

I would've preferred an animal I knew over one I didn't, but at least he wasn't so determined to volunteer Alec as pest control anymore. "Thank you."

He nodded, the matter settled. Then, as he did every morning after I'd drunk my tonic and breakfast was coming to an end, he produced a crystal from one of the pouches on his belt and slid it over to me.

White, pink, purple, smoke gray, they were always varieties of quartz and none larger than his thumbnail. I was expected to fill them with magic and turn them into little caches—magical batteries. It was a strength test, much like practicing fencing with a heavier sword to build muscle and increase endurance. I had to fill one up, no matter how long it took, before I left the breakfast table and began my real work of the day.

While the process was a drain on my magic, my core replenished itself quickly despite the curse. It was simply the act of using it—the struggle of drawing magic from my core not unlike that of a fly trying to free itself after falling into a pot of honey—that exhausted me by the end of the day.

"You'd think after the fight with the bear you'd give me a break from this little exercise," I grumbled, finishing the last of my latte and setting the mug aside to pick up the white crystal.

"No breaks," the fae king said, his lips curving into a fleeting but empathetic smile.

Pinching the crystal between forefinger and thumb, I frowned in concentration. "You never did tell me what you do with all these things." I knew he squirreled them away in his silversmithy, behind that locked black door, but I didn't know why .

"They're for Elfame," he replied.

How cryptically uninformative. I rolled my eyes and directed what trickle of magic I could tap into the crystal. When it shone painfully bright and refused another mote of my power, I released it with a gasp. Thistle thorns, first the ceiling, then the bear, now the crystal. I was so drained I didn't know what I wanted more, a nap or a second breakfast.

"Have some more toast, love," the fae king said, placing it on my plate and scooping up the crystal.

Breakfast was finished soon after—I never liked to linger while the bear was awake and prowling. He'd worn a small dip in the stones with his pacing, his breath blustering with each step and his amber eyes glowing hatefully.

I shoved the rest of my apple-butter-smeared toast into my mouth before the fear could sour my stomach and hastily followed Ossian out of the great hall. Instead of heading right to the foyer and the main courtyard beyond, as I always hoped he would, he turned left. Towards the atrium. As always.

"I can hear you sighing," the fae king commented dryly.

You don't have a fae queen ordering you never to step outside every day. The atrium was the closest thing to the outdoors as I could get. I supposed, as always, I'd have to make do. Oh goody.