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CHAPTER FIFTEEN

In the atrium, I withdrew my hand from the cloch and allowed the green glow to dissipate from my hand. Overhead, the glass dome no longer shone silver with the gray light of mid-morning, but sparkled with starlight of twilight.

A whole day gone in what seemed only an hour.

“What happened?” Ossian demanded, turning me to face him. “You had it contained, and then . . ..” Apparently even he didn’t understand what he’d seen. “What happened?” he asked again.

“I was practicing,” I answered. “That was the point, right? Subdue it to draw upon its power? I figured it was like fishing—just toss the fish back and catch it again until you get your technique down.”

“Fishing.” The Stag Man’s jewel-bright eyes flickered over my face as if another explanation would reveal itself there. I kept my expression bland. He released me with a mild, “Hmph. Well, how do you feel? Confident? Or do you need to practice more?”

There was no doubt that the Unseelie half-heart wouldn’t be as understanding or as sentient as the wight was, so there would be no reasoning with it. It would be a rabid beast, but the wily wight had taught me to expect the unexpected now. I’d definitely mastered keeping the cloch matrix intact against attack, so I was probably as prepared as I was going to get.

“Our timeline is short,” Ossian reminded me before I could answer, “but do not overestimate your readiness. You will have only one shot at a source of fire.” He gave me an up-down look, his mouth pursing. “You’re drenched in sweat.”

It was true. The magic strain hadn’t been difficult, but the mental one? I didn’t know if it was specific to my encounter with the wight—I was going to call her Gwyn, I decided—or if the Unseelie half-heart would be the same. Ossian was right about the deadline, but haste also made waste.

“Tomorrow,” I said. “Not tonight.”

“We wouldn’t go at night. Demons are always strongest at night. You’ll start tomorrow when the sun is at its zenith.” The Stag Man nodded, seeming genuinely pleased. “Excellent. I’ll have Mrs. Bilberry bring you a tray. Eat. Sleep.”

As much as I wanted to see Arthur, I needed to follow the Stag Man’s advice so I could be prepared for tomorrow. “I’ll see her myself for a tray. Need to feed the sourdough.”

He kissed my brow and turned to leave. “And leave that bag in your room tomorrow,” he flung over his shoulder. “It’ll only get caught on the branches.”

“Uh-huh. So will those broad shoulders of yours.”

Turning on my heel, I left the atrium behind at a quick trot. The way to the east wing took me by the great hall, and no matter how desperately I wanted to look in its direction, as if doing so would alert the bear something wondrous was about to happen soon, I kept my gaze straight ahead. I don’t even think I blinked until I was finally inside my bedroom with the door locked and warded behind me.

Sawyer wiggled out of the foraging bag. Without saying anything, he padded on silent paws to each of the four walls and craned his ears to listen. He repeated the procedure in the bathroom, then once again in the bedroom. Suddenly he crouched, wiggled his rump, then slammed against the bed post.

A rat bolted from its hiding place. A blur of stripes followed. A second later, the blue faelight in the rat’s eyes winked out, and Sawyer removed his teeth from its neck. “He’s upgraded his spies.”

The tabby cat spat the rat hair from his mouth, using his paw to scrape the rest of it off his coarse tongue. “And he becomes more obsessed with that bag every day. What does he think he’s gonna find in there?”

“Well, there’s one way to find out,” I drawled, giving him an expectant look.

“No!” Sawyer slapped his paw against the ground. “If you’re suggesting what I think you are, that means we’re splitting up again, and while you go tangle with the demonic half-heart no less. Have you lost your mind?”

“You know, I just thought he was sending his spies in here to keep an eye on me, maybe see if my memory returned. But what if it’s to snoop through my stuff? It’s not just the bag he’s obsessed with, it’s these too.” I held out the pendants that hung around my neck. “A powerful magic cache and the Celtic shield. The latter which lessens the effects of his rubies, no matter how many he makes me wear.”

Crouching down brought me closer to eye level with the tabby cat. “Sawyer—”

“Nuh-uh.” He looked resolutely away. “You beguiled me with scruff scratches and Arthur before. I’m not agreeing to another side quest.”

“It technically wouldn’t be a quest. You wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

He gave me a baleful side-eye. “Nuh. Uh .”

“Kitty— ”

“Don’t you try to sweet talk me!”

“Sawyer.” I scooped him up and cradled him in the crook of my arm like a doll. His tawny-colored belly turned straw-colored in the candlelight. “Stop pouting. Wouldn’t it be nice to know what he’s after? Because he wouldn’t be after it if it couldn’t be used against him. And we do need every advantage we can get.”

The tomcat squirmed, but only half-heartedly. “If he really was that concerned you had some hidden weapon on you, why hasn’t he just taken it? He somehow took your knife.”

I still couldn’t remember how my iron knife had gone missing, but it must’ve been lost or removed sometime during the move between the farmhouse and the castle. Had he taken the knife but disregarded the bag at the time? Or was it purely happenstance?

Then it dawned on me. “Because he can’t .”

It was something Ame had said the morning after Ossian had collared me with the ruby necklace. I’d woken and complained about sleeping in yesterday’s clothes and all my other trappings and why Ossian had only seen fit to hang up the white fox-fur coat but not remove any other of my possessions.

“Be glad he can’t,” the cat had snapped.

“I don’t know why,” I told Sawyer excitedly, “but he can’t take anything off me that’s not his to begin with. Maybe it’s a fae thing. Maybe it’s a him thing. Which makes it that much more important that we find out what it is he’s after.”

“You mean I find out what it is,” Sawyer said sullenly. He sucked in a wearisome breath. “Fiiine. But this is the last time.”

I set the cat down. “Hmm, we both know that’s probably not true.”

“Hey!” He swiped for my ankles. “We’re stronger together.”

“And we’re more vulnerable, too. What if something happens to me and Alec or Shane or another Brother who’s not under the same restrictions he is gets ahold of this while you’re in it?”

Sawyer squirmed under my imploring look.

“Please?” I asked.

The tabby tomcat blew out a huff, hopped onto the bed, and nestled himself between the pillows, blending in. “You load that tray up before you bring it back here. I haven’t eaten all day. And I want extra for when you’re gone tomorrow.”

The mattress depressed under my knee as I leaned in to give the little cat a kiss on the forehead. “You really are the best cat.”

“Yeah? Prove you mean it by bringing me back a whole chicken for myself .” His ears perked. “What is it that Flora likes to say? Oh, yes. Chop-chop.”