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CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A ragged cheer erupted from the Brotherhood when Ossian and I emerged from the glen. Looking up from where I secured my leather guards over my cuffs, I realized the cheers were more out of relief that the hateful aura of the half-heart had vanished than my victory at mastering another element, but it still brought a small smile to my lips.

“Your future queen is formidable indeed,” Ossian told them, helping me into the saddle. “We’ll feast in your honor tonight, Meadow, but leave the fairy wine to the rest of us. A week remains and the hardest elements left for you—”

The Stag Man nearly bit off his own tongue as his head snapped to the east. His jewel-bright eyes glowed green, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed something none of us could detect.

“My lord?” Alec prompted. He cast an anxious look at the sky—its color and temperament had not improved, and the sun was setting in the west.

“Can you not sense that?” Ossian breathed, entranced.

Something about the wonder in the fae king’s voice had the Brothers closing their eyes. The bluish-green markings on their skin seemed to come alive, writhing. Seeking .

“I do,” Alec said suddenly, eyes snapping wide. “It’s incredible.”

“The Unseelie’s aura must’ve been masking it this entire time.” Ossian threw my reins toward Alec. “Take her back to the castle immediately. I’ll be along . . . after. Shane, on me.”

The magic hunter skewered me with a look of hate and jealousy at the opportunity he was missing and gave my dappled gray a vicious tug on the bit. “Let’s go.”

“Go yourself,” I snapped. I had the stirrups shucked and was slipping from the saddle faster than Alec could lunge forward and grab me with his only hand. I gave him a sneer and raced after Ossian.

Please don’t be what I think it is. Please don’t be what I think it is.

Gone was my earlier desire to return home—more specifically, to my room in the east wing with my cat in my lap. Cuddle time would have to wait.

The Stag Man moved with powerful even strides, forcing me to take two for every one of his. He registered my presence with only a glance, too preoccupied to reprimand me for disobeying his orders. I wasn’t the only one. Alec followed after us, almost stepping on my heels in their excitement.

Past the glen, through the trees, down a steep leaf-and-rock-strewn slope that terminated in lines of barbed wire and a NO TRESPASSING sign.

Oh no . I’d been here before. There was only one thing deep in these forgotten woods that could be calling to the fae king.

“Here,” Ossian said curtly. Without warning, he snatched my hand and slung me onto his back. There was no time to do anything else but link my legs around his waist and loop my arms across his neck.

The fae king shot off into the trees, the wind whipping tears from my eyes. Ducking my head, I pressed my face against his back and shut my eyes away from the blur of ground beneath our feet. There was no reason to watch; I already knew where we were going.

What had taken me and my friends hours to traverse, the fae king covered in a fraction of the time. The hills, the lowlands, the path beside the rushing river. Deadwood and leaves crunched under his strong hooves; his antlers tore through the branches and arcing briars that would’ve snagged our clothes and slowed us down.

With my ear against the thin linen of his shirt, I could feel his heartbeat begin to race. Not from exertion, but from excitement. Wonder, even.

The Stag Man slowed, his hands releasing their grip on my thighs. I slid off his back, staggering as the feeling returned to my numb legs. Absently, he reached out a hand to steady me, but the whole of his attention was on the magnificent tree before us.

The elm sparkled in the dying light of the day. It was as lively and green as it was the day I had shocked it back to life. Perhaps it was the change in seasons, or perhaps it was just the way of wild magic, but a faint silver light radiated from every leaf and fissure of bark. It was possible that light had always been there, just outshone by the sun. In the depths of night, however, I bet this tree was a gentle beacon to all who were afraid of the dark.

“Incredible,” Ossian whispered.

Even he had to crane his head as far back as it would go to take in the entire height of the tree. In true elm fashion, its canopy stretched far and wide with branches as thick around as ships’ masts. And with all the other nearby trees dormant for the winter, it had no competition for sunlight.

Mouth agape in awe, he stretched out his hand.

“Don’t touch it!”

The Stag Man whirled around, jewel-green eyes flaring .

“It’s wild magic,” I protested weakly. “You don’t know what it’ll do.”

With a laugh, Ossian pressed his hand against the trunk and began to consume.

Beneath the cuffs of my white fox-fur coat, my hands tightened into fists. He had no right to this tree, though I’m not sure I did either. Even now, I wasn’t sure if I was its creator or just its catalyst. Perhaps all I’d done was mend an injury to its taproot, a taproot that had delved deep into the primal magic of the earth. Its power could be endless . . ..

I should be glad he was taking from the tree; at least now he’d have no need for the Fair Folk and supes that called Redbud home. But the elm tree still needed to be protected from anyone who would exploit it, this fae included.

Every gemstone on his necklace, and there were dozens of them, was recharged. The golden aura of his skin brightened, but the elm tree never dimmed. It didn’t seem strained in the least, not even when the excess power shone from Ossian’s eyes.

The fae king tore away from the tree with a gasp, admiring the glow of his skin and the thickness of his muscles.

“My lord!” Alec exclaimed, pointing.

My heart froze, then shattered.

The copper deer hair that had hugged the Stag Man’s waist had receded. Bronze skin now showcased a navel and tight abdominal muscles. For the first time since I’d met him, he was more male than stag.

The magic of the elm tree was reversing his curse.

“Wh-what is it?” I forced out, maintaining the illusion that I couldn’t see past his glamour.

“Another victory for the day, love.” The Stag Man bent and lifted me into the air, twirling me in a circle. His smile was blindingly bright. Ecstatic. Greedy. When he set me down, he cupped my face in his hands and delivered one of his bruising kisses to my lips. “Gods, you taste like it.”

Abruptly he threaded his fingers into my hair, clenched, and jerked my head back so I could stare at nothing but him. His voice became hard, his eyes like chips of flint. “What do you know of this tree, Meadow?”

“I don’t remember anything!” A lie, but as the one who had stolen and sealed away my memories, Ossian could hardly call me a liar. “I’ve never—”

His mouth was on mine again, his magic ripping down the bond.

My oak tree was ready for him. Unlike the wight, which was a pure spirit and outside the constraints of most magic, Ossian couldn’t barrage his way into my memories again without my permission. But to deny him access would admit that I had changed. Awakened.

A moment before his essence hit the solid protection of the oak tree, I dropped its defenses. In the same breath, I also squirreled away every memory of the elm. He found nothing, and after a few seconds, he withdrew.

Then I punched him in the face. With a magic-laced fist.

“What have I told you about doing that?” I screeched at him.

He spat something white and red into his hand. “You . . . you knocked out my tooth!”

Neither Misty Fields nor Meadow Hawthorne had any remorse. Both of them felt nothing but despair and anger and the outrage experienced when fate just wouldn’t give you a break. Yes, the fire element of the filigree key had been charged, but at what cost? Now every Brother would be fueling up from the elm tree, not to mention the Stag Man himself, which would only make them that much harder to defeat. Maybe impossible.

Shuddering, I summoned my magic .

Ossian instinctually lowered into a fighting crouch. “What are you doing?”

I only pointed a glowing finger towards the ground. Liquid green fire sluiced to the forest floor and raced around the elm tree. This wasn’t a spell in the grimoire, nor any my mother or grandmother had taught me. This came from instinct, from intent.

“Cleansing fire, purity of flame,” I intoned, “protect this tree from all ill gain.”

The moment the circle of fire completed itself, the flames shot up ten feet into the air with a roar. Immediately, Ossian, Alec, and Shane were ejected beyond the perimeter.

The Brothers landed hard on the frozen ground but the Stag Man caught himself, cloven hooves gouging ruts into the soil. He slapped a hand where his shirt smoldered at his shoulder. When he was sure he wasn’t on fire anywhere else, Ossian turned a murderous glare at me.

“What have you done?” he bellowed.

Still on the opposite side of the fire, I lifted my chin and walked, unharmed, through the flames. If anything, they acted like those at my home hearths, licking at my fingertips like friendly dogs.

“If anyone should take magic from that tree, it will be me,” I declared. “Your lackeys will not drain an asset dry that I might need to charge the key. And don’t argue with me, Ossian. You know your Brotherhood’s greedier than pigs at the slop trough.”

“My lord,” Alec whined. “If we don’t replenish, we lose—”

“Silence!” Ossian sucked in a calming breath. “You will make an exception for me, love.”

“Perhaps the fire should be the judge of that. Why do you need it, Ossian?” My hand perched on my hip as I looked up at the irate fae male with feigned confusion. “Your power is already the greatest among us. ”

“Because I want every advantage fighting Callan!”

“If your intent is to reclaim your birthright and bring peace to the Court of Beasts, then you should have no trouble with the fire.” Stepping to the side, I gestured for the fae king to test his mettle against the wall of green flame.

It was still ten feet high and at least a foot thick, though it consumed none of the leaves and deadwood on the ground. It emitted no heat either, so lower-hanging branches suffered no damage.

He snarled once at me, leaned forward as if bracing into a headwind, and stomped forward. I knew he was leading the charge with his antlers as if the wickedly sharp tines would cut the barrier to ribbons. Perhaps they could—he was one of the strongest fae of Elfame, cursed or not.

The fires shot him back a dozen feet, right on his ass.

“ Meadow ,” he roared.

“Quick as a rabbit, one, two, three,” I whispered, my magic springing gleefully to life once more, “speed my steps to keep me free.”

And I disappeared.