Page 5 of How To Please A Princely Fae (Wild Oak Woods #3)

WILLOW

B y the time we make it to The Pixie’s Perch, some of my ire has worn off, replaced by a childish fascination with the fact that Kieran is completely overwhelmed physically by the horny goat weed’s effects. From a purely scientific standpoint, seeing the reaction on the full-blooded male fae prince is enlightening.

From the completely petty standpoint of the woman whose life he’s made miserable for the past few weeks, I take a sick sort of pleasure from his obvious discomfort. I don’t like it about myself that his discomfort is amusing to me, but he brought it on himself.

So here we are.

I veritably tow him behind me into town, bypassing the long willow-bough broom by The Pixie’s Perch that I normally nod to in greeting in favor of getting something into the poor prince as soon as possible. Kieran, for his part, is making a sort of low tortured noise, and despite my petty amusement, I am starting to get a bit worried about the effects of the aforementioned horny goat weed.

The town center is packed with people.

I pause in my crusade to get to the bottom of whatever is going on with Kieran as soon as possible, in pure shock. The tents that we set up for the autumn festival are still raised in the center of town. And in fact, the entire town center teams with the citizens of Wild Oak Woods.

A group of rowdy dwarves are cutting up in the corner closest to the pastry displays at the tent entrance. They are about the only group I notice before pulling Kieran through the crowd. A minotaur I wedge in front of lets out a distinctly moo-sounding exclamation of disgruntlement that prompts Kieran to turn over one shoulder and level him with the nastiest look possible on his pretty face.

The minotaur takes a step back.

Can’t say I blame him.

I clear my throat, waiting for Piper to finish handing a pretty pink ribbon-tied box full of pastries to Lila, the proprietor of the town’s tea shop, and notice us.

Piper’s long brown hair is tied neatly back into two braids that crisscross and wrap overhead like a crown, her cheeks flushed from the heat of the bakery despite the chill of the fall air outside. Ga’Rek is at her side, and his pleasant, welcoming expression turns to one of confusion as Kieran stares at him as though he’s never seen him before in his life.

It must be clear from the expression on my face that something is very, very wrong, because Piper immediately takes me by the arm and pulls me behind the table still laden with the feast from last night. The scent of magic is in the air, and it’s clear that the rest of the witches performed some sort of spell work to keep this table fresh for today’s festivities.

Part of me realizes that I should congratulate Piper on being able to pull off the autumn festival despite the terrible circumstances of last night, but I’m starting to get too freaked out about Kieran to do anything but blurt the entirety of our problems to her.

Immediately.

“He’s lost his memory,” I wail. “He doesn’t remember who I am, where we are, or most anything about his past other than his name and the fact that he’s an Unseelie fae. I don’t know what happened. I didn’t cast any spells, I swear it. Even though you know I’ve been pining after him, there is no way that I would have done anything to warrant this sort of personality change.”

“Well, well, well. The truth comes out.” Kieran leans against the table, raking his gaze up and down my body.

My entire body cringes, and I cover my face with trembling hands.

Wonderful. This is just what I needed, for Kieran to hear my unfettered thoughts about him. It was one thing when he underhandedly tried to trick me into admitting I have feelings for him, but admitting it here, out in the open, in front of everyone, is a whole different problem.

How do I always find myself in these situations?

“I don’t want to hear about it from you,” I snap.

“It seems cruel of you not to help me with my current predicament, considering you have the feelings required to make good on exactly what I need help with,” Kieran says smugly.

“What?” Ga’Rek scratches his chin in confusion.

He looks exactly how I feel on the inside.

“He lost his memory.” Piper glances between the two of us, then looks to Ga’Rek for help.

I shouldn’t have put this on her shoulders. It’s just one more mess for her to clean up, and she doesn’t need that. It’s clear my friend could very much use a morning off from the drama of Wild Oak Woods.

Yet here I am, ruining everyone’s day, because I can’t figure out anything other than how to grow plants.

“I shouldn’t bother you with this,” I blurt. “I’m so sorry, we’ll just go back?—"

“We’re not going back anywhere until my problem is taken care of,” Kieran says, his voice dripping with acid.

“A problem that you caused after eating all of the horny goat weed in the greenhouse.” I will not stomp my foot. I will not .

“You told me I could help myself to the greenhouse,” he sniffs.

“To the fruit,” I snarl.

I give myself one foot stomp, because I deserve it.

Ga’Rek and Piper are staring at us with twin expressions of dismay.

“I woke up with him naked in my bed,” I say by way of explanation.

Although, judging from the shock that’s now simmering across their expressions, I get the feeling I’ve only made things worse. Again.

“Right,” Piper slowly stretches the word out, infusing it with a world of meaning. It makes me feel even smaller than usual.

A heavy hand lands on my shoulder, and I glance up in surprise and gratification as Kieran pulls me close into his body.

“Don’t upset her,” he growls. “That’s no way to talk to her.”

The hum of noise turns down, even the merry-makers at the festival falling silent at the pure venom in Kieran’s tone.

Piper and Ga’Rek share another look and I try to breathe normally. They seem to be communicating silently, which I’m not sure is even possible.

They’re all so much better at magic than I am, it wouldn’t surprise me at all to find they could do so.

Ga’Rek raises an eyebrow, staring pointedly at Kieran.

“I see,” he says simply.

“Do you think it has something to do with last night?” I ask quietly, so as not to garner more interest from all the listening ears in the tent. “Did the Elder Gods or whatever they call themselves… Do you think that they took his memories away?”

“Absolutely not,” Nerissa pipes up.

I hadn’t realized she was standing there, listening to everything.

I hold back a sigh. Of course she was.

Her wolf familiar moves silently through the crowd to her side.

He sits on his haunches, pink tongue rolling out of his mouth as he stares up at us. I get the distinct impression that the wolf finds all of this completely hilarious. My own familiar, who, like always, followed me out, lets out a hoot from his perch on one of the star lanterns hung from the silk tent ceiling.

Simply seeing Chirp there makes me feel slightly better and I stand up straight, turning to face Nerissa. Kieran’s hand’s still heavy on my shoulder. Possessive. “Why do you say that?”

“You don’t smell like their magic. You smell like her magic.” Nerissa dips her chin at me. “Like green magic. Not the eldritch magic of the Elder Forest or the elementals that apparently have been living within it.” She shrugs as though this should be resoundingly obvious to all of us.

Kieran’s hand tightens on my shoulder.

“Yes, the unbearably horny residents of the Elder Forest.” Caelan, the trickster fae, appears practically out of nowhere, his voice dripping with glee. “As horny as ye old goat of an Unseelie prince, it seems, though not nearly as forgetful.”

Piper and I both glare balefully at Caelan, who simply grins and shrugs. “It does smell like your magic, Willow witch.”

“Don’t presume you have my leave to speak to her in that tone,” Kieran snarls, and I blink in shock.

“Your leave?” I repeat, unsure if I’m annoyed Kieran wants to give permission for someone to talk to me or gratified to be stuck up for.

Somewhere in between, probably. I rub my temple.

Caelan, for his part, simply looks smug. Smug, and all too invested in Kieran's newfound self-designated role as my protector.

"So, you're finally ready to admit it to us all how you feel about Willow," Caelan drawls, pressing his fingertips against the top of the long table. A large cake teeters precariously on the stand next to him.

He must be exerting quite a bit of pressure to make it do that. Which means he must not be as calm, cool, and collected as he prides himself on being.

"Kieran doesn't know what he feels about me," I say. "He can't even remember any of you, much less form an opinion about me."

"I'm standing right here," Kieran says, iciness creeping into his voice. "I will be the judge of how I feel about you, my little croissant."

Nerissa bites her lips as if to keep from laughing, and even Ears makes a loud whuffing noise as if in disbelief.

Heat shoots up from my chest to my throat to my face, and I know I've turned as red as my hair.

"I am not your croissant," I say. The effectiveness of the declaration is somewhat hampered by the fact that I sound pathetically wispy when uttering it.

I try again.

"I am not your croissant?"

Great, now it just sounds like I'm asking a question.

He stares down his nose at me, a muscle in his temple twitching. "If I want you to be my little croissant, you will be my little croissant."

The heat flooding my body has less to do now with embarrassment than it does with a heightened awareness of how close all of that muscled purple skin is to me.

I'm in danger.

I already had a massive… thing for Kieran.

I had no idea how dangerous it could be if he returned the feeling, even just a little bit.

“I’m not your croissant.” I repeat.

“Soft, delicious, and ready to be eaten or filled. Croissant fits you perfectly.”

I grind my molars, squeezing my eyes shut and counting backwards.

“There are definitely worse pastries to be called,” Caelan says, and Nerissa snorts.

Caelan claps his hands together in delight. “Can we call her your croissant, too?”

Without the pressure of his hands, the tall layer cake stops quivering. Piper breathes a sigh of relief.

For his part, Ga'Rek shoots Caelan a quelling look, which accomplishes absolutely nothing. Caelan, I assume, has never been one to be quelled.

Wren finally joins us, placing an arm on Caelan’s wrist, and he gives her a worshipful look that takes his focus off us.

"You're mated." Kieran’s words come out on a shocked exhalation.

I glance up at the prince, and his eyes are wide.

"How? I didn't think the fae could form a mate bond with any species other than our own."

“How do you even remember that?” I ask, throwing up my hands. Goddess, this is the worst. Is he trying to form a mate bond with me?

I blow out a harsh breath and try to rein in my emotions.

It’s either that or just start screaming and never stop.

Wren elbows Caelan sharply in the ribs before he can form a reply, but he doesn't seem to care, simply grinning at her pointedly before turning back to Kieran.

"You seem very interested in mating someone who isn't fae," he says casually. His eyes glitter, belying his latent amusement.

Wren elbows him again, harder this time.

I make a mental note to buy some more jewelry from her. And maybe ask to be tutored on how to control a wayward fae.

“Are you considering a permanent bond to your croissant? Perhaps splitting her open and buttering her?”

Outrage fills me.

Wren utters his name in a deadly tone, and this time, he winces.

It’s too late, though.

Now I’m mad.

"I have had enough," I sputter. "Your friend, the friend that you followed from the Underhill to Wild Oak Woods, has amnesia. Amnesia. Memory loss. And it’s caused by some magic that I don't understand, and all you can do is make terrible jokes at his expense about me? It wasn’t even a good joke. Your material needs work."

Caelan opens his mouth to respond, looking wounded at my criticism more than my reprimand, but I raise a hand and cut him off before he has the chance to say anything.

My hand stops just short of making contact with his face.

Truly, I should win a prize for my inhuman restraint.

"You should be ashamed of yourself; he is supposed to be your friend. Something terrible has happened, and all you can do is whatever sad excuse for humor this is?”

“My humor is honed in dark fae magic?—”

“SAVE YOUR PASTRY JOKES FOR SOMEONE ELSE,” I bellow.

Kieran’s fingers tighten on my shoulder.

Slowly, they run down over the fabric of my sleeve to rest on my elbow, and he presses me tighter against him.

My chest heaves from the indignity of it all. And the fact that I’m slightly out of breath from screaming.

Well, everyone in the tent is certainly staring now.

Nerissa’s watching the whole affair unfold with interest, picking profiteroles off a platter and popping them in her mouth at regular intervals.

"I can be two things at once," Caelan tells me.

There's an air of insouciant superiority about him, and it reminds me of all the stories my mother and her coven told me about the fae when I was but a young girl.

That the fae are mercurial, that they are not to be trusted, and above all that they care nothing for us humans, witches or not.

I turn my attention to Wren, curious how she can stand to be around the trickster at all, much less romantically involved with him. Forever. While she seems slightly exasperated with Caelan, Wren doesn't seem overly offended by his antics.

On the contrary, she's glancing between Kieran and me as though she's seeing us both for the first time.

Wren’s expression, however, tells me that she had no idea that I felt so strongly for Kieran. She even manages to throw a hurt look my way.

Like I should have told her about how I felt for him.

The realization confuses me.

I thought that I'd at least mentioned it to them in passing, but apparently they’re as surprised by this turn of events as Kieran himself.

I need to get this conversation back on track.

This is not the time to be wondering about why my friends can't read my mind and why I would assume that they could in the first place. No, it’s high time to figure out how to restore Kieran's memories and get to the bottom of why it happened in the first place.

"This doesn’t have anything to do with the Elder Forest elementals, if that's what you're trying to get out," says Nerissa seriously.

Her usual flair for dramatic proclamations has been abandoned in the face of our predicament.

Thank the goddess.

“They want brides. They want to fulfill some ancient contract our coven made for our protection. The seriousness of the Elder Gods requesting brides from us, as bad as that is, has nothing to do with…” She trails off, waving her hand at Kieran vaguely, “this.”

"What is all this talk about Elder Gods?" Kieran says with pronounced derision. "No Elder God or elemental would dare take a witch away from me."

The matter-of-fact pronouncement halts my thoughts entirely.

"I don't know what you think I am to you, or what you think you are to me… but I do not belong to you." I’m perturbed.

Extremely perturbed.

Not so much by his words… but by how much I like them. I sigh deeply, then pinch the bridge of my nose.

How completely messed up is that?

Pretty damned messed up.

"I don't know what we are to each other at all," Kieran tells me quietly. He leans down so the softness of his lips brushes against the top of my ear.

If I weren't already beet-red, I would for sure be now.

"But I do know that I would like us to be something in the future. Do with that what you must, my delectable little croissant, but I think we both know deep down that you're amenable to the possibility."

I find myself sorely wishing that I hadn’t laced my overdress on so tightly this morning. It’s a bit hard to breathe. Harder every time he says something like that, in fact.

Then again, from the way Kieran eyes the swell of my breasts, I don't think he has any complaints with the way I laced my dress.

"I'm sorry to say, Willow, I agree with Nerissa. I don't think whatever's going on with Kieran has anything to do with what happened last night.” Piper wrings her hands together.

“I'm also sorry to say that the demand of three forest gods—beings we didn't even know existed before last night—rank higher on our immediate priority list than restoring Kieran’s memory. He is safe with you, isn't he?" Nerissa asks, tilting her head.

"Of course he is safe with me," I sputter, offended all over again.

That’s me, just a blushing ball of offended sensibilities and weak plant magic who doesn’t rank high enough on the coven priority list to garner more support than whatever it is I’m getting now.

"What Nerissa is trying to say," Piper starts softly, "is that Kieran should probably stay with you. Whatever happened to him has something to do with your magic, and you’ll most likely figure it out if you simply retrace your steps and work together."

It's a mark of how sad and lonely I've been that I can't even think of one reason to tell them that is a very terrible idea.

It's a mark of how obsessed I've been with Kieran that I don't immediately tell them that it's a terrible idea. It’s a mark of how terrible a person I am that I think it might actually be a very good idea.

For very selfish reasons that have nothing to do with solving the amnesia mystery.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," a soft voice I don't immediately recognize chimes in.

The group of us turns, and the newest witch to town stands before us, arms crossed over her body.

There's something incredibly delicate about her fine bone structure, especially paired with her overly large eyes. The latter practically swallow up her face, stark brown and undeniably sad.

"No one explained to me why it is they appeared last night. Those three beings, I mean." Her cheeks suck in, as if she's biting them. Paired with the look of deep regret on her face for calling our attention to her, my heart immediately goes out to her.

I fight the urge to give Violet a long hug and tell her everything's going to be all right. She just looks like she could use someone to take care of her.

"Lucky for you all, I was up most of the night scouring through my shelves." Ruby Walks, owner of the town’s Listening Page Bookstore, does, in fact, look like she spent the entire night wide awake. Dark circles hang heavy beneath her eyes. Her skin’s lost its healthy luster for a slightly more sallow shade.

Goddess, I have been so selfish.

I ran from the coven’s problems last night to nurse my own sense of woundedness, then threw Kieran’s new issues at them instead of considering how what happened last night is affecting everyone else.

I wince when she glances at me.

Ruby scoffs, and I ready myself for a well-deserved verbal flagellation.

"Don't you dare look at me like that," Ruby says.

Here we go.

"I stayed up late because I wanted to; the last thing I need is to be joined at the hip to some overly powerful being that we just learned the existence of to save our town from some existential threat we didn't even know existed."

I blink.

Ruby clears her throat, looking around a little wildly. Her familiar winds in between her legs, his fluffy tail held like a plume behind him as he lets out a plaintive yowl.

Ruby bends to pick him up. His tufted ears flatten on the back of his head as he surveys us all like a king might his court.

She coughs delicately, looking chagrined. "No one was thinking that, were they?"

"Has everyone forgotten of my condition? And I'm not talking about the amnesia, or whatever you want to call this." Kieran points to his head, his voice strained. "I'm talking about the boner that will not go away.” His points to his other head.

I can't help it. I burst into laughter.

I clap a hand over my mouth, horrified at how horrible it is to laugh at this. Everyone seems caught between shock and awe at both Kieran’s pronouncement and my very ill-timed giggle fit.

As for Kieran, though, he looks down at me with a soft smile. More than anything, that’s what finally makes my laughter stop.

"I might be able to help with the Elder Gods," a deep voice rings out. Druze, a male dryad of staggering size, is looking on from outside our little circle. “I can tell you what I know.”

Lila, his wife, stands with her arms folded gently around a thick towel. It steams lightly, the cloud rising around the pointed tips of the elfin ears poking out through her light blonde hair.

"He can help with that," Lila agrees with a smile. "And I brought some tea. I had an inkling that, ah, someone might be a bit too excitable this morning."

Kieran turns to her immediately and tugs the covered pot from her hands. The towel falls away to reveal a teapot the shape and color of a winter cabbage. More steam pours from the spout.

"Careful, it's very hot," Lila advises, wincing as Kieran manhandles the delicate vessel.

"How did you know what he needed?" Ga'Rek asks. He winds his massive arm around Piper's waist, holding her protectively against him.

It must be nice to be held like that by someone who knows who you are.

Without Kieran's arm around me, occupied as he is with the tea, I feel oddly cold.

"Chirp might have tattled on you to Rosalina," Lila says to Kieran. "That owl is very worried about what you might do to Willow in your, ah, delicate condition." She arches an eyebrow at me, and I hide my smile.

My heart swells momentarily for my familiar, who did exactly what needed to be done to help Kieran, and by extension, me. I don't know what I did to deserve a familiar like Chirp in my life, but I'm grateful he’s in it.

I might be lonely, but I’m not alone.

Druze helps himself to a slice of cake dressed carefully in sugared swirls, peppered with strawberries sourced from my greenhouse. A little jolt of pride goes through me at the sight of the red berries against white cake.

I hold my head a little higher. I might not be as magical or talented as the other witches, but I am good at what I do.

"Tell us what you know, man," Ga'Rek all but growls, clearly sick of waiting for his information.

Druze chews thoughtfully before slowly swallowing.

“The dryads speak of gods in the forest.”

We’re all hanging on his every syllable already.

“We had myths and legends about them,” he continues.

“Is there anyone in your community that might know more about them?” Ruby urges, twitching slightly, clearly ready for him to speed it up.

I don’t blame her.

“I always just thought that they were myths and legends,” Druze says shrugging his shoulders. “Others might know more than I do, but I wouldn't be sure of it.”

He pauses.

Can’t get a tree to hurry for anything, I guess.

“Besides, dryads don't like to talk to outsiders much.”

Ruby sighs, and Ga'Rek moves closer to Druze.

“Tell us what you do know, then,” he says. “Everything. Nothing’s too small.”

“Why are you so worried about this?” Caelan interrupts, his forehead wrinkled in confusion. “You have a mate, so she’s not in danger of being taken.”

Ga'Rek fixes him with an irritated look. Despite the orc’s good nature, it's easy to see how quickly he could shift to dangerous.

For his part, Druze doesn't quell under Ga'Rek's fierce gaze.

Instead, he simply inclines his head and then begins to speak again.

"I was raised with the stories. Always told in hushed tones when the nights grew longer and darker, so dark and it seemed that the sun would never rise again. The stories were passed down by the eldest of the dryads. They had thicker trunks than you can imagine, and barrel chests, and a note of truth in their voices.”

He pauses, and from the way Ruby’s shifting from foot to foot, I can tell she’s a heartbeat away from yelling at him to get on with it.

“No one ever spoke of them too loudly, or around too many people. We all heard stories of the forest elementals, these Elder Gods, nonetheless. They took the blame for anything ill that arose, and yet were thanked for anything good happening.”

He exhales slowly, and Lila nudges him gently with her elbow.

Good, because I might help Ruby shake the words loose if he doesn’t hurry it up.

“Not in any way that was overt, or even truly ritualized, but with small trinkets left at the edge of the forest, or honey and fruit left in the same places. They would be gone by morning." He shrugs one shoulder, and his placid expression turns troubled. "When I was a child, I was enchanted by the idea of actual elder beings wandering the depths of the forest. Elementals, pure magic made physical. Incredible.” He shakes his head, still apparently taken with the idea.

Ruby lets out a soft huff of annoyance, her lips thin in impatience.

“As I grew older, I realized animals most likely took the food. The trinkets could have been squirreled away by racoons or magpies. The stories of the Elder Gods were dismissed amongst my peers and me as an elder’s way to coerce the younger generation to behave. Still, our elders’ habits and fear of speaking of them too loudly stayed with us.” His expression turns thoughtful. “This is likely the first time I’ve discussed them in decades."

Caelan sighs. “Is that all? I’m not sure how helpful any of that drivel was.”

What an asshole. I’m not sure how Wren can stand him.

"Then you should probably let me finish," Druze says. He cracks his knuckles, and Caelan sniffs.

Next to him, Lila sighs wearily and then gives me a pointed look.

As for Kieran, he's foregone the cups Lila brought. Nope, no cups for him. He’s drinking the piping hot tea straight from the top of the adorable cabbage-shaped pot.

Right. Of course he is.

"The main theme of the stories passed down amongst my people about the three Elder Gods was that they were protectors of the forest and even the towns and people that lived on the outskirts of it.” He gestures broadly around with a green hand, clearly trying to signify Wild Oak Woods. "But they were not protectors without a price. Every so often, they would manifest and demand something from those whom they protected, whether or not they ever invoked them and asked for their protection. Was only ever in great times of need, like in the redwood wars several centuries ago or in the deep winter fires more recently." He shakes his head. “You can understand why we would think them to be fiction. Maybe it was wishful thinking, because the thought of such a vast power and the price it may exact is frightening. But there's also a certain comfort in the idea that something you cannot fully understand is trying to help you in ways that you may never see." He shrugs again, and his eyebrows lift in time with his shoulders.

"Now we know what they want," Nerissa says, crossing her arms over her chest. "They want us."

Druze nods his head in agreement. "They want you. And I've never heard of them asking for anything like that. Food, yes. Tokens of gratitude, yes. Livestock? Yes. But never a bride."

"I think it's worth asking the question of why the prices are going up for their protection," Ruby says slowly.

A shiver goes down my spine as what she's suggesting finally materializes in my mind.

"What is so terrifying that they require the payment of three brides as the price to protect Wild Oak Woods?"

I find myself looking at Druze, trying to deduce if he has the answers to any of the questions racing through my mind.

Violet shifts, chewing her lower lip nervously, her eyes darting around before finally settling on Piper. "But if we could ask them, should we?”

“What do you—” Caelan starts, but Wren holds a hand up to stop him from speaking.

“Are they here right now?” Piper’s voice is hushed, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.

Kieran abandons the teapot on the table and narrows his eyes at me.

Before I can clock what he’s about to do, he wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight to his chest.

I choke out a little cough, sure my eyes are near bugging out of my head, because?—

“Can’t breathe,” I wheeze.

His grip loosens slightly. Which is to say, not very much at all. I gulp down the little air he allows.

Violet’s eyes are wide as saucers, her gaze darting between where Kieran’s arm is around me like a vise, and what I assume to be his expression behind me.

A quick look up verifies my suspicions.

Yep.

His lips are pulled back in a snarl; the gorgeous iridescent wings I’ve spent too many hours avoiding staring at are on full display behind him.

Oh. Oh my.

His eyes, normally a deeper purplish blue, are nearly full black, something I’ve never seen before.

“Easy boy,” I choke out.

“Not really,” Violet finally answers slowly, dragging the words out and looking beyond Kieran.

Beyond the crowded tent and the citizens of Wild Oak Woods milling about.

Caelan clears his throat meaningfully, and Ga’Rek looms larger than ever.

If there was a looming contest, the orc warrior would win it, hands down.

"Then where are they?" Ga’Rek growls. His eyes glitter. None of the good humor I've begun to associate with the orc remains.

Violet quails under his menacing perusal.

"They sent a spirit guide," she says, her voice uncertain. “It said they just wanted to talk. They don’t understand why we’re upset.”

Piper puts a delicate hand on Ga'Rek's wrist and he audibly swallows, nodding nearly imperceptibly.

"Forgive me, Violet,” he says in his deep voice.

“Continue,” Piper tells her.

I stare openly at the pair of them with pure admiration. Amazing how quickly they’ve become in tune with each other. I’ve always admired Piper’s quiet way of leading, her way of knowing exactly how to anticipate what people want and need and then help them get it.

The two of them are a force already.

"I don't understand what else it’s saying exactly.” Violet wrings her hands. “I don't know what else they’re trying to tell us. I’m sorry. I wish I did.”

I don't know what's happened to this fragile new witch, but from the way she seems afraid of everything, I can only imagine what she's been through on her way to us.

"Do your best to explain," Nerissa tells her, not unkindly. The black-haired witch, our spell maker, steps forward and braces her hands on Violet's elbows. "We all had to start from somewhere," Nerissa tells her. "We understand this is new to you. We all know new things can be just as scary as they are exciting, sometimes even more so."

I tried to bring myself to remember what it was like to live a life without magic before my powers fully set the summer I turned thirteen. I can’t.

There was never a time in my life when I didn't have magic, when I didn't find all plants to be full of magic.

"It says what happens now happened before… I guess a long time ago. It doesn’t understand time like we do… and that the elementals manifested then, here, just like they are now…but they've never demanded a bride tribute."

Her words tumble over themselves, her eyes far away, as if she's translating something that's being said to her and trying to keep up as best she can.

"The spirit says the balance has never been so…" She shakes her head. "I don't understand what it's saying, something about a wheel spinning out of control, or maybe a scale?"

She looks to Nerissa for help. Even Nerissa can’t speak to spirits.

Nerissa squeezes her elbows encouragingly and Violet closes her eyes.

"There's a balance of magic, of power, dark and light, I think," Violet says slowly. Magic shifts around us, nothing like the kind I wield, and it tickles over my skin. "There is a wild magic in the Elder Forest, or beyond it? I don’t know. A wild magic that's been caged? Or contained? By previous covens. The elementals can balance the chaos, but they need the help of a bound witch… or three.”

“A counterweight.” Nerissa runs a hand through her hair. “That… makes sense.”

I have no idea what she means by that. From the consternated expression on Wren’s face, I get the feeling she has no idea, either.

Great. A coven full of plant and kitchen and jewelry witches up against pure chaos power.

And Nerissa, whose spell making capabilities are great, sure, but she’s more prone to drama than exerting true power.

A flurry of voices eclipses Nerissa’s mutterings.

We've drawn a crowd around us. Magic hangs heavy in the air around Violet and Nerissa.

The new witch’s eyes are wide, unseeing. An invisible force whips her hair around her head.

It’s like nothing I've ever seen before.

Fear worms inside my heart, and we have much bigger problems than Kieran’s lost memories.

Like he senses I’m thinking of him, Kieran's breath warms the shell of my ear. Goosebumps rise along my skin that have nothing to do with the threat to our way of life and everything to do with his body nestled into mine.

"There," Nerissa tells Violet, patting her arms. "You did well, you did so well."

Ruby looks frankly at Nerissa. "I've seen no mention of any of this in the town records, nor the coven records.”

It's Violet that answers. "Wild magic was expunged from the histories."

Ruby's expression turns to outrage. "Expunged from the histories," she repeats. "That is against the historians’ code of honor." She places a hand over her heart and Caelan lets out a low chuckle at the witch’s ire.

"There's a name for that in the Underhill," he says with a grin that doesn't quite meet his eyes. "We call it the queen’s version."

The look of disdain Ruby spears him with is the harshest I've ever seen from the witch. I would not like to be on the receiving end of it.

Although, judging from Kieran's glower, I'm not much at risk for even a mean look at the moment. It shouldn't feel as nice as it does.

"Wild magic," Nerissa muses, tapping the end of her nose with her forefinger. The light of the multicolored lanterns overhead reflects warmly in the gloss of her black hair.

"It's all rather exciting," she says rubbing her hands together with gusto.

"For you, maybe," I say, exasperated. "Some of us aren't strong spell casters. Some of us aren’t good at anything but growing plants. Some of us don't want to get married to some ancient elemental power because we can’t do anything else to help."

Oh goddess.

I've shouted it at her.

Goddess dammit.

"I didn't mean it like that,” I say, my voice faltering. “I just don't know how I can help protect our home. It's not exciting to me. It’s terrifying."

Wren winces sympathetically at me.

The angry sound of Kieran's wings intensifies behind me. "Of course you can protect your home," he says, and the anger in his voice startles me, startles everyone as a thousand eyes gaze up at the Unseelie prince. "I don't know who's convinced you that your power doesn't matter as much as these other witches’, but they were sorely mistaken. None of them would be able to do their best work without you."

"He's absolutely right," says Nerissa, nodding her head. I scour her face for a hint of sarcasm, but find none. “You are an integral part of our coven, and of the whole community writ large." Nerissa raises her eyebrows at me and smiles as a chorus of agreement sounds from all around me.

Not just from my coven, but from all the citizens of Wild Oak Woods who stopped merry-making to listen to our heated conversation.

"You saved my crop of apple trees this fall."

"You brewed the potion that kept my babies’ fevers at bay," another voice calls.

"Willow's greenhouse is full of the plants that allow me to make everything I sell," Piper adds gently, smiling at me.

A rousing cheer goes up around us, and my cheeks heat. Kieran's arm loosens slightly around my waist, his thumb brushing a stroke across the soft flesh of my stomach in a way that sends my blood hot and singing through me.

"We don't need them,” a voice bellows, running through the noise of the crowd. One of the minotaur builders shakes a fist at Violet as though she's the reason the Elder Gods are here, instead of simply the messenger.

She draws inward, and it breaks my heart to see her retreat further into the shell of herself.

"That's right, we don't need their damned help!" his brother yells out, stamping his hooves. His cheeks are bright red, the honey mead in his hand sloshing over the stein’s rim.

"Don't you dare blame Violet," Nerissa says, and energy crackles off of her skin. "She delivered the message. She didn't compose it. What exactly do you propose to do differently?"

The minotaur brothers have the courtesy to look rightfully abashed in the wake of her words.

"What we are not going to do is make decisions in anger and fear when they affect all of us—not just our coven," Piper declares in that kind, no-nonsense way of hers that I so admire. Murmurs of agreement trickle through the crowd.

Agreement, fervent in their belief that Piper does know best. They’re confident that she's offered is the best solution.

“You need protection," Darius, the older of the minotaur brothers, says, and the younger brother chimes in immediately, "Each of the witches needs protection.” His eyes dart to me and Kieran’s wings beat an angry frenzy behind us both so hard that it pushes the hair against my face.

Undeterred by the angry Unseelie behind me, the younger minotaur, Donovan, continues, "I wouldn't mind guarding Willow."

"Willow's mine," Kieran snarls.

My eyebrows rocket up in surprise. It's one thing to surmise someone's grown possessive of you and it's quite another to hear it enunciated loud enough for the entire town, the words of warning warm against your skin. I swallow hard trying to think my way through my current predicament. On the one hand, it's as though my wishes have been heard, and on the other, I’m afraid to learn at what cost. This isn't the Kieran I know. The Kieran I know wouldn't care if I offered myself up to dear Donovan and Darius, brothers of the bovine persuasion. I cough delicately, which Kieran seems to take as consent to being called his because the next thing I know, we’re airborne.

Kieran's beautiful green wings graze the top of the tent, one of the multicolored lamps teetering dangerously as he flies by. He clutches me tight against him, his wings buzzing furiously.

Words fail me.

I force my gaze back down. My coven stares up at me with expressions ranging from aghast to amused.

The ground is really, really far away, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

Looking down was a mistake.

“Make sure to protect her,” Nerissa calls merrily.

I can hear laughing, and another stupid look down shows Caelan doubled over in laughter.

If they hadn’t all been so sure that the magic smelled like mine, I would bet money that the trickster was behind this change in Kieran's heart… well, his entire lack of memory, that is.

If the circumstances were different, there's no doubt in my mind that I would be thrilled with my current situation.

It's just my luck that he doesn't have a clue who I am, nor does he remember whatever grudge he held against me.

Terrible luck, that is.