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CHAPTER SIXTEEN

In the morning, Sawyer and I set the trap of the foraging bag for the faelight spies.

“Not there,” Sawyer protested. “You wouldn’t just leave your bag on the floor, Meadow.”

“Quite right. It’s either on the bed, hanging in the wardrobe, or on the settee there.”

“The settee. It’s far enough from the walls they usually sneak in through that I can watch what they try to steal and nab ’em before they get away with it.” Sawyer wedged himself back in between the throw pillows on the bed until only the gleam of his amber eyes could be seen. “Leave it unzipped. And those runes aren’t going to mess with anything, are they?”

“We’re good.” The tampering rune I’d sewn into the bag could understand intent—I was deliberately leaving it open and unattended. It was the same as a mother handing her purse to her child to fish out a peppermint—the permission to root around was given. “Be safe, little cat.”

“Meadow?”

With one hand on the doorknob and the other gripping the fox-fur coat, I paused and looked over my shoulder. “Yeah? ”

“Come back in one piece.”

“Love you too, kitty.”

In the hallway, I found Shane standing just outside my room.

“Thistle thorns,” I exclaimed, shutting the door tight behind me before he could catch a glimpse inside. At least the Befuddlement Spell had been in full effect before I’d opened the door. “I doubt I need an escort to go feed my sourdough starter.”

The faelight Brother said nothing, merely fell into step behind me. He kept a measured distance of three paces behind me, his gait so eerily smooth it set my teeth on edge. Had he volunteered to be consumed by Ossian’s magic, and if so, what did he expect to earn from his service? Or had he just been the best candidate—a mindless, obedient brute?

But more importantly, did I have true reason to fear him? All those extra fae-like markings on his skin . . . had Ossian given him those so he’d be powerful enough to subdue me in Elfame? Was it hubris that made Ossian believe Shane would be enough, or did he truly know ? It was maddening to contemplate.

In the kitchen feeding the sourdough starter, whom I named Bruno, I decided to shove those thoughts from my mind. Doubt was poison, and I needed every scrap of confidence for what lay ahead.

“You’re not wearing your satchel,” Ossian noticed immediately as I stepped into the courtyard. He held the reins of two horses, the bay gelding he preferred and a dapple gray for me.

“Your powers of observation are astounding.” Any jab I could make and mask as a teasing or flirty snark, I would take. It was one of the few things that made this nightmare bearable. I gave the Stag Man a saucy wink and took hold of the gray’s reins.

“Also, if I wanted a watchdog, I’d get a mastiff,” I said, tossing a glance at the faelight Brother.

The fae king jerked the reins, yanking me into his proximity. His arm snaked around my waist as his jewel-bright eyes gleamed. At his throat, the big blue jewel swirled and two of the gemstones winked with power. “Ignore Shane. You have no idea how intoxicating I find your obedience, Meadow.” He ducked his head, claiming my mouth in a fierce kiss.

I tensed as the stolen bond between us radiated pleasure. Stolen pleasure, and only that thought gave me the strength to push—gently, no matter how much I wanted to shove —away from him.

“I need to stay focused, Ossian.” Disentangling myself, I led the gray away a few steps so I could haul myself up into the saddle unmolested. “You’re not the one subduing an Unseelie half-heart, you know.”

I glanced up at the sky; the puffy white clouds of the morning promised to eventually smother the blue expanse, perhaps even give us a cold rainy afternoon. “Something I’d like to do not in the dark.”

“Agreed.” With a whistle, he ordered the Brotherhood escort to move out, and our horses thundered over the bridge.

It was an unrelenting ride to western Redbud and a dismal one at that. There was something sad about wide-open spaces that had lost the vibrancy of their grasses or the fullness of their creeks. Of the skeletal trees and the pines that seemed to hunch against the weather instead of standing proud. The turkey vultures circling in the sky or picking at something in a field definitely did not improve the mood.

When we passed by Cedar Haven, a flood of relief eased the tension that had been building inside of me. We wouldn’t be navigating the forested river lands to access Alder Ranch from the south. We were taking the longer—and easier—way around. Which meant the elm tree and its wild magic would remain hidden. Safe.

Above, the sky had turned into an oppressive wall of iron-colored clouds. It might as well have been night for all the light the sun could provide, trapped as it was behind the impenetrable barrier of gray. So much for not tackling the demonic half-heart in the dark.

“It’s nothing but the winter storm season come early,” Ossian told me dryly, shifting his gaze from my face to the expanse above. “Ride astride with me if you’re worried, love. Your nerves will only transfer to your horse and we can’t have you breaking your neck when it bolts.”

“You could just command my horse to stay calm.”

He shook his head, copper curls swishing low across his forehead. “To order that would make it unaffected by anything, even at the expense of its own life. It needs its instincts.”

I shivered, wondering when he drained the life essences away from the forest animals he had imprisoned in the dungeon if he preferred them subdued or fighting against the inevitable.

A warm hand slid over mine, starting me from my thoughts. There was a pull on the bond, an encouragement to just relax, and I found the Stag Man lifting my hand to his lips for a kiss. “You’re safe with me, Meadow,” he assured me.

I’m anything but! Flashing a nervous smile, I extracted my hand and adjusted my grip on the reins. “Not when I face the heart. That’s just me against it.”

“I’ll be there in case you lose control.”

My attention shifted upwards, the glamour wavering as I focused on his antlers. His waist and legs, which were covered in buckskin, shimmered as I penetrated his glamour and revealed deer legs covered in thick copper hair. Cloven hooves the size of dinner plates.

Cursed to become a beast himself, came Roland’s voice.

Could a cursed high fae of Elfame be a match for an Unseelie half-heart? “You’d be able to contain it?” I asked.

Ossian’s jewel-green eyes narrowed at the skepticism in my voice. “I would destroy it. That is my power. If you shatter the heart without extracting its essence, you’ll give me no choice.”

His answer smacked of petulance—he was boasting. If he was so powerful he wouldn’t have had to steal Grandmother’s magic or mine to erect the shield around Redbud, nor would he have to drain supes and Fair Folk to supplement his reserves.

“What are you looking at?” he said suddenly, sweeping a hand over his hair. Searched for the antlers he knew should be glamoured.

“Just thinking how perfectly the crown of the Court of Beasts will look when it’s on your head.” I fiddled with my own braid of long brown hair, hoping if he noticed the nervous beating of my heart that he’d misinterpret it as excitement. “Do I get at least a tiara as your mate?”

The Stag Man grunted, lowering his gaze to my chest. “I’ll let you wear one only if you match your jewelry to it. Presentation matters in a fae court.”

The amazonite pendant and the Celtic shield reflected dully in the bleak afternoon light. I stuffed them beneath the collar of the white fox-fur coat. “Better?”

He snorted lightly. “Only just.” He clicked his tongue to his horse again, picking up the pace. “We’re here.”

The metal archway declared ALDER RANCH in bold lettering, but weathering and pitting robbed the sign of any grandeur. The gates were open, gouging the dirt as they hung from their hinges. Where the land sloped upwards into hillier terrain, border collies kept black cattle well away from the open gates. And the glen where the moonflowers contained the half-heart tree.

Our horses decided that the border collies and cattle had the right idea and refused to enter the glen no matter how hard they were whipped. I was the first to dismount, flinging my reins at Alec so he’d be forced to catch them and stop lashing his horse. A brief touch to the frightened beast’s flank sealed the wounds, including the ones left by his spurs.

“Stay here,” Ossian ordered the Brothers, taking my hand and leading me forward. “Can you sense it?”

That feeling of dread and an aura of hate? That brooding malice that was so potent that no other plant grew in the glen except the moonflowers? “Is it too late to have a bonfire in the courtyard? At least when I’m done mastering the essence of fire we could roast marshmallows.”

The Stag Man chuckled once, sobering when the trees abruptly stopped at the edge of the glen. I shuddered at the sight I’d hoped never to lay eyes on again.

Moonflower vines followed the design of a dara knot upon the glen floor, the wizened black tree that was the half-heart’s prison confined at its center. The land was firm underfoot, the air sweeter than when Flora and I had first planted the moonflowers. Crystals peeked out from the healthy foliage like frogs between lily pads.

“Impressive,” the Stag Man mused, abandoning me to inspect the dara knot from all sides. “This might even provide you some protection.” He gave me a lazy flick of his hand. “Over here, love.”

Swallowing, I circled the moonflowers until the red glow of the demonic half-heart shone from the knot in the tree. It pulsed just as it had before, rhythmic and unhurried. Biding its time to infect the land once more when the moonflowers failed.

Or when I released it.

I stuffed my hands into my armpits to warm them while I waited for the Stag Man’s instruction.

“What do you know of the essence of fire?” he asked.

“You said it was destruction.”

He nodded. “It is. It cannot be reasoned with because it has no mind. Its only desire is to consume and ravage. This half- heart is a rabid beast that you must subdue and kill before you are bitten. And I mean that literally. Kill the Unseelie heart to access the fire within.”

“Kill?” My hands dropped to my sides. “You said nothing about killing it. I thought the only thing that could kill a demon was its own kind.”

The Stag Man smirked. “Of course that’s what they’d want you to believe.” He held up a hand as I began to protest. “You will subdue it like you did the wight, except go one step further. You can kill, can’t you? You are a Hawthorne, a master of Life and Death aspects of Nature magic.”

Killing the half-heart would certainly benefit Redbud in the long run, not to mention free the Alder family of a generational curse. I just . . . wasn’t prepared to take a life—no matter how unsavory that life already was—to save my brother.

“It’s nothing more than an unthinking beast,” Ossian supplied, noting my hesitation. “Half of one, actually, and a lesser half at that.”

I had no choice, and there was only one thing left to do to prepare. I removed the tooled leather guards that covered my iron cuffs and tossed them at Ossian. The Stag Man caught them, affronted that I would treat him like a common valet, but I just shrugged. “I would’ve put them in my satchel.”

His upper lip twitched for only a moment before he stuffed the guards into one of his pouches. Metal grated and dark green sparks flew as I raked my cuffs against each other. Ossian took a step back, gesturing I should advance beyond the moonflowers in front of him. “We’ll hold the key together.”

Leaning forward, he held out the filigree key to me. The green diamond twinkled merrily, and the diamond that would hold the essence of fire blushed in anticipation.

I noted that the powerful fae king was going to stay on the opposite side of the moonflowers instead of joining me inside the dara knot. The all-powerful coward. Unable to help myself, I smacked my lips, seized my end of the key, and stepped inside the moonflowers.

A baleful heat slammed into me. I grunted against the assault, battle magic flaring and shoving the half-heart’s aura back. Unlike the wight, whose presence and influence was trapped inside the cloch, the half-heart’s aura extended past its prison. It rammed against my defenses like an incensed bull. Dark green battle magic wrapped around its horns and wrenched it to the side, exposing the half-heart.

Here goes nothing.

I slammed my hand against the pulsing red heart and felt my world turn to flame.