Chapter 29

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

We reappeared in the backyard of the farmhouse. All of us—Ossian, the coven, the Crafting Circle ladies, me, and Arthur. The hearth went wild, flinging warning pulses and illuminating the windows with red light. A moment later, there was the sound of stampeding feet, and the hobs charged out of the house armed with frying pans and wooden spoons and all of the fireplace tools including the miniature broom used for sweeping up the ashes.

"Cernunnos's Horns," Roland blurted at the sight of the man with the antlers protruding from his head. "Lass, you've called the old gods down upon us!"

Ossian felt along the antler's length and released a frustrated huff, sweeping his hand to glamour them from sight once more, one of the gemstones around his neck twinkling brightly with the expenditure of magic. Then he sent my unconscious grandmother a sour look. "Clearly all bluster and blow if your magic couldn't even complete a transportation spell unassisted."

"Cernunnos," Dale whispered in awe.

The Stag Man turned back to the posse clustered at the bottom of the porch steps, bracing his hands on his hips. "Ah, hobs. Such simple creatures. And I haven't been called Cernunnos in centuries. Now get these witches inside while your mistress and I have a chat."

At the snap of his fingers, copper magic seized the hobs, and they surged forward to collect the unconscious witches.

"Gah!" Ricky shouted. "My legs are moving by themselves!"

"Lass," Joe cried even as he was compelled to assist his kin in dragging my family up the porch steps and into the farmhouse. "What's going on?"

Ignoring their pleas, I became as shrewd as my grandmother. The hobs weren't being hurt, and my family was being cared for, after a fashion. Sawyer was lost to me, but there was one man who I still had to fight for.

"Ossian," I bit out. "What about Arthur?"

I wanted nothing more than to go to my bear, to hold him, to let him know I was there, but I couldn't move away from the Stag Man. My magic was returning, and I needed to be within striking distance in case there was a loophole in our bargain he decided to exploit.

"Nearly there, love," he said, touching a rough-cut gemstone on his necklace.

Golden-green magic— my magic—sprang from where it had been stored and into his hands. It turned copper-colored on contact, and he spread his hands wide like he was welcoming the night sky into his embrace.

"I'm not your love!"

"Perhaps not now, but you will be," he replied confidently. "They always are."

Then he turned back to his task, magic dancing at his fingertips like twinkling copper sparks. Far overhead, a bead of light burst into being, a bright as a star. That coppery light spread in every direction, and I knew from the countless glittering green shells my grandmother had erected over the past few days how to recognize when a shield was being erected. This one was a dome, spreading over the whole of Redbud.

"What are you doing?" I whispered.

"I'm upholding my end of our bargain, Meadow, but on my terms," he explained as his magic danced at his fingertips and expanded the dome. "And my terms dictate you have no distractions. No other desire than pleasing me.

"My court is wherever I am, and my magic is most effective within its walls. I'll need that efficacy to rid you of those distractions in order to unleash your true potential. No family. No lovers. No ties other than those I allow. You were the one who put us on a deadline, after all."

He finally turned his attention to Arthur, letting his magic dome complete itself.

The lumberjack shifter was motionless on the grass, the Crafting Circle ladies clustered around him, offering what comfort they could with their presence that I could not. Flora darted out with her wand raised, the tip glowing green. "Nobody hurts Redbud's lumbersnack. No one!"

"Begone, chaff," the Stag Man boomed.

My friends were powerless before his presence. Shari practically flung herself out of the way. Daphne followed reluctantly, one hand scruffing not-Sawyer, but Flora looked like she might actually resist. Her green eyes slid to mine for confirmation, and I nodded. We didn't have time for heroics. There was no time left at all.

Cowed, they could have fled for the safety of the house, but the Crafting Circle ladies chose to cluster around me. Their solidarity might've been worthless in Ossian's eyes, but it meant the world to me. We would defend Redbud and our loved ones, no matter the cost. Surrounded by my courageous friends, I felt a new strength rise within me. I think they felt it too, for Flora sputtered and Daphne gasped.

Then the older woman yelped. Not-Sawyer had finally wiggled loose, yanking out half a dozen tassels from her shawl as he launched away from her—

Magic shuddered through my shoulder where he landed, and the little cat mewed in confused distress, or hope, and I could have sworn I heard my name.

I yanked the tomcat down from my shoulders and wrangled him into the crook of my arm. The not-Sawyer would've fought this hold, done anything to protect his belly, but the glaze on this tabby tomcat's eyes faded away, and my Sawyer returned.

"Meadow?" he whispered, both ears, the good and the torn, pricking forward.

"A bonded familiar wouldn't need a collar. His witch would be imprinted on his heart, and vice versa. Their connection would create an immunity to faelight and fae magic, or at least a resistance, depending on their power."

Our bond wasn't conventional, but it was there. It'd just needed to be activated through touch.

I would've blessed the Green Mother right then and there had the Stag Man's sudden movements not wrenched my attention to the lumberjack shifter.

Ossian squatted down, seized a fistful of Arthur's hair, and yanked his head up off the grass.

"Play dumb," I whispered to the cat, dropping him to the ground. "Hey!" I shouted at the Stag Man.

Ignoring me, the fae lord pressed two fingers against Arthur's neck like he was feeling for a pulse. Twinkling copper magic sparked at his fingertips, soaking into Arthur's neck, and a tense moment later, his hazel eyes flashed wide open as he sucked in a wheezing gasp. Color returned to his flesh, a flushed tint of new life to his tan skin, and he drew in a second stronger breath.

But Ossian didn't release him. The Stag Man wrenched the lumberjack shifter to his feet by his hair, jabbing his same two fingers into Arthur's chest over his heart. The copper sparks disappeared from his fingers, a blue light glowing beneath them instead.

Arthur roared in agony. He twisted, but coppery restraints held him upright and prevented him from shifting.

"Stop it!" I cried. "You're hurting him!"

"Indeed," Ossian agreed, "but he is neither family nor friend. Magic is precise, Meadow. He left what you mortals call ‘the friend zone' some time ago. He is your lover , and thus not part of our bargain."

I was still too weak to summon battle magic, but emerald green magic burst from my hands. Beside me, Flora raised her wand, Daphne her blackthorn shillelagh, and Shari her knitting needles.

"Tallyho, ladies!" Flora trumpeted.

Without so much as a glance in our direction, Ossian let go of Arthur's hair to sweep a lazy hand in our direction. The buried roots of the nearby maple tree erupted from the earth, tangling up our legs and locking us in place. True to my command, Sawyer played dumb and just hissed from where he'd fled to the delphinium floral wards.

"Jumping hop-toads," Flora exclaimed, stabbing everywhere with her wand like she was poking holes for the caramel and fudge sauces in a Better Than Sex cake. "The roots won't budge!"

"I thought I sensed something in your kiss, Meadow," Ossian mused over the ruckus. "Your bond with the bear is strong, but I never expected to find this."

"What are you doing to him?" I thundered.

"Removing a distraction," the Stag Man answered. Bracing his hand on Arthur's shoulder, he pulled his two fingers away from the shifter's chest, a rope of crackling blue light extracting from Arthur's heart.

A pang shot through my own heart, a blue light rising to the surface of the skin on my left breast. What the—?

With a shout, I lashed with my emerald green vines. A copper shield intercepted them before they could strike the Stag Man, dashing them into glittering pulp. Ossian continued to pull at that crackling blue rope like he was extracting the taproot of an invasive weed. As he worked, the magic that had hidden his stag legs and antlers began to waver, his true form reappearing once more.

Arthur fell to his knees, spine arched in pain, as the rope snapped free of him. Only a faint blue blush of light remained where it had attached to his heart.

I cried out then, slumping forward as an excruciating pain squeezed my heart. It was being wrung like an orange for juice, like a seedling shriveling from being left out in the sun for far too long.

It was heartbreak.

"How're you doing this?" I gasped, pressing a fist against my aching heart. This was arcane magic, the likes I never knew existed.

"I am the master of beasts, and what is a bear if not a beast? What they are is for me to take as I see fit, whether their pelts to wear, their flesh to eat or…" The Stag Man held the crackling blue rope in his hand with wonder, the end he held in his palm sparking like lightning while the other end remained attached to the flesh above my own heart. "An unclaimed fated mate bond," he murmured.

Lifting his gaze to me, he crooked a finger in my direction. "Come here, love."

The roots ensnaring my legs burst apart, and a hidden hand thrust me across the yard and into Ossian's grip. His arm was an iron band around me, pinning me to his side. Had it not been for the dilapidating grief and conviction that my heart would never be whole again, I would've punched my glowing fist straight into his glorious face.

"What's the matter, love?" the fae lord asked me, wagging his end of the mate bond in front of my eyes. "Did you get cold feet? Had you claimed it, it would've been unbreakable. But now… I'm claiming it for myself."

"Meadow," Arthur groaned, an outstretched hand straining for me from where he lay crumpled in the yard. His hazel eyes were blurred with tears, but there was a spark of hope in them. There was a chance I could salvage this still, for the blue echo of our connection still glowed above his heart.

Squeezing my eyes tightly, I thought only of Arthur. Of his patience, his kindness, his unwavering devotion. His unfailing love.

And I knew I felt the same. There was no reason to deny it any longer—there'd been no reason to deny it in the first place. I'd just told myself that I didn't have time, that Arthur wasn't for me, that I was unworthy, that my family mattered more to me than my own needs and desires. I'd told myself lies.

I seized hold of that mating bond, felt it leap for joy at my touch, and—

"You're too late, love."

My ivy-green eyes shot open to find the bond sinking into Ossian's chest, chaining us together. I lurched forward to grab the rope, to yank it back, but he seized my hand with enough force to snap my wrist. The little bones crunched, my scream echoing their pain.

Then a new pain, so much sharper than the one in my wrist, flared as Ossian pinched my cheeks in his hand, dragging me forward towards his chiseled mouth. "You are mine now, Meadow."

Something shuddered in my chest. Those words had promised heaven when Arthur had murmured them to me under the maple tree. Now they were a death knell.

With surprising gentleness, Ossian kissed my brow, right between the eyes, and I felt a scorching heat as his sparking copper magic took root there.

"You will fear the grizzly," he told me in that sensuous voice. My vision filled with glittering stars, wiping out all thought, all sense of self. "You will forget everything but the memories I leave you. You will give your magic to me, one way or another. And you will love me for it."

As my mind whited out into oblivion, a familiar voice rose from within the magical oak tree and declared a single word: Growth . My weakened magic mounted one final defense, injecting a network of what looked like minuscule golden-green leaves though every fiber of my being.

Thistle thorns , I managed to think as the world of copper stars and golden-green leaves faded away. What have I done?

The End of Thistle Thorns.