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CHAPTER TEN

The fae king’s jewel-green eyes sizzled with barely restrained power. The gemstones around his neck twinkled madly, and, just for second, he reached up to touch the big blue jewel at the necklace’s center. It didn’t twinkle like the rest, but the power inside swirled like the wight within its cloch.

That fleeting touch reassured him it was unbroken and still attached. Then his hand dropped to the pouch on his belt that held the Caer powder.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded, his voice low and soft. Deadly.

Easy, Meadow. Take a breath.

Still panting from the exhilaration of the fight, I swept my hand back towards the bear. “Sparring.”

His hand didn’t move from his pouch. “But you’re terrified of the bear.”

“And I told you this morning I had to master my fear. So here I am.”

Ossian glanced from the blood crusting my cheek to the rents in my dress where the grizzly’s claws had scraped down my thigh. There were no bruises or lacerations, not even scars. His gaze flicked to the bear where he huddled in his corner. The beast stopped licking his wounds and growled at the fae king. When Ossian didn’t strike, the bear cautiously resumed his ministrations.

A new tension rippled through the fae king’s shoulders. “You were depleted this morning after charging the key. How were you able to summon battle magic?”

I shrugged. “Guess I recharged.”

His eyebrows winged up into his mop of copper curls. “And all it took was a snack?” he sputtered.

I guessed from his bewildered tone that high fae didn’t replenish themselves that quickly. Meadow Hawthorne wanted to rub it in his face, but Misty Fields cautioned against it. “Apparently I could’ve used more of a boost.” I gave a self-deprecating half-grin. “Lost my grip on that battle magic when he knocked me to the ground. Maybe I should’ve had a snack and a nap. I’ll do better next time.”

“Meadow, there won’t be a next time.”

“But—”

“You are too valuable to risk injury against that bear!” He retrieved my leather wrist guards and tossed them at me, then drilled me with a knowing look. “ Or sneaking out the castle without telling anyone.”

Thistle thorns! What had his spies told him? Had they seen me at Shari’s hut? Or just my return? By the Green Mother, had they seen my friends leave with that potion?

I wet my lips and dropped my eyes to his bare feet. The glamour wavered for only a second, revealing his cloven hooves. They were only half as large as the grizzly’s paws, yet just as deadly.

As Misty Fields scrambled for a demure and apologetic response, Meadow Hawthorne took over. “Green witches need to ground themselves,” I said boldly. “And I was drained from this morning, so what did you expect me to do?”

The Stag Man heaved a condescending sigh like he was being forced to, yet again, explain something extraordinarily simple to an idiot. “Wystan—”

Ugh, not this old lie again.

“I don’t fear that hobgoblin, least of all within the castle estate. And I can’t charge the key and train against the bear unless I ground myself.”

“ Meadow ,” he thundered.

My heart was a war drum in my chest. If he denied me this, I’d never have an excuse to get close to Arthur again. What if I needed to update him on the Redbud Rebellion? What if I wanted him simply know I hadn’t forgotten about him? These thoughts and more rushed through my head, demanding I do something , no matter how crazy.

The Stag Man tossed his head, and the glamour flickered to reveal his massive antlers raking the air. “How many times must I tell you—”

Ossian never finished his sentence.

My glowing hand shot out, seized his shirt collar, and yanked him down to eye level. “Shut up , you blustering peacock. How can I kill the bear as my wedding gift to you if I don’t train myself to win against it?”

The Stag Man’s mouth dropped open. His shock only lasted a moment before he jerked upright and out of my grip. “You—”

“It’s customary for a bride and groom to exchange wedding gifts, at least in my culture.” My boldness vanished, my tone suddenly unsure. Misty Fields wrapped her arms around her chest as she turned away, hugging herself against his disappointment. “A-and I thought, for a fae king who has everything, what could I possibly give him? So, I thought of the bear, a-and—”

“Meadow.” Broad hands cupped my cheeks and guided me to look up into the handsome face of my enemy. His jewel-bright eyes flickered over my face, searching for any hint of deceit, but Misty Fields knew what was at stake. She convinced him with an innocent expression of hope. “Love, it is perfect. ”

He ducked his head, capturing my mouth in a possessive kiss. I twisted away before his tongue could delve into my mouth, offering my neck instead. His animalistic nature found the vulnerable area too irresistible to ignore. Ossian’s teeth clamped down.

I masked my pained whimper with a pleasured moan and threaded my fingers into his copper hair. A sigh escaped me as I pictured ripping each beautiful curl out by its roots.

“I thought you didn’t want me to arouse you in front of the bear,” he murmured against my throat.

“That’s before I found out he tried to keep us apart.” I pinched a curl between thumb and forefinger, imagining it to be a daisy’s petal. He loves me, he loves me not. “And joining with my magic has unleashed something in me. Something a little more . . . feral.”

It was true, and I wasn’t sure if I liked it. I wasn’t sure if the person I was turning into—the one who envisioned ripping her enemy’s hair out of his head—was the real me, or just one of necessity. Like a coat I could shed when it was no longer needed. I hoped so.

“I noticed something was a little different about you since the portal. I like it.” His tongue swept across the hollow of my collarbone, and I hoped he got a mouthful of rancid dried bear saliva.

Ossian’s hands roved down my ribs to my hips, and just when he drew me tight against him, a little bell rang from the side door.

Thank the Green Mother for that badger!

The Stag Man growled at the interruption but dutifully released me. His image was almost as important to him as returning to Elfame; he preferred to present a fae male in complete control of himself when he faced his subjects. He was not a carnal beast, nor slave to his passions, at least when he was in public.

Shane moved to one corner of the fireplace and resumed his statuesque presence with his hands clasped behind his back as we seated ourselves. A moment later, Mrs. Bilberry and her parade of woodchucks entered the great hall with our supper. It was only when Ossian was preoccupied with filling his plate did I risk a glance at the bear. From the way his hazel eyes dropped quickly to the floor, I knew he’d watched me allow the fae male to kiss and touch me in a way that used to be his right alone. My stomach twisted, and I dug my fingers into the foraging bag on my lap to seek comfort from my cat.

Who I had forgotten was away on his own mission. My shoulders slumped.

“Does anything strike milady’s fancy?” Mrs. Bilberry asked nervously, and I realized half of the woodchuck parade had passed without me indicating what I’d like for dinner.

“The lamb and the apple turnover,” I blurted.

A succulent lamb burger nested on a mound of mashed potatoes, the whole smothered in a golden onion gravy. Peas and buttered carrots crowded close to the mashed potatoes like chicks to a mother hen. The apple turnover with its sugared crust got its own plate next to the glass of chilled Riesling.

Nothing that I could easily slip into my foraging bag to feed my hungry wee cat when he returned, but I could always raid the kitchen tonight when I went to feed my sourdough starter.

The meat fell apart easily under my fork, but I never got to taste Mrs. Bilberry’s latest masterpiece.

The double doors of the great hall burst open, and Alec barged into the room. Despite the cold, sweat beaded along his forehead. He looked haggard, his black clothes stained and in disarray. The knot that kept the sleeve of his missing forearm from flapping about had come undone, and the Brother looked like he was flailing about as he hurried to his king’s side. More than once, he glanced over his shoulder as if he was being followed.

The blue flames jumped in the fireplace—the only outward evidence of a slip in Ossian’s control. “Yes?” the Stag Man asked icily.

Dimly, we all heard a metallic clang.

My fork clattered against the plate. “Was that the portcullis?”

“We have a problem, my lord,” Alec replied.