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CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“A petulant subversion at best,” Shari corrected.

“But that’s still treason,” Daphne said.

“That’s a nail in the Brotherhood’s coffin,” I said. “Might be the only one they need.”

With a deft hand, I transferred the tonic counter-potion into three spare vials and secured them away in my foraging bag. Then I added bittersweet berries and a bolus of green magic to the hickory nuts. To the untrained eye, it looked like I was in the process of caramelizing nuts for Yule.

“And the edict is the reason for the prisoner swap Stripes witnessed,” Shari noted. “Oh, and we’re calling Meadow’s other furry friend Snack instead of Furry Lover, Flora.”

“Pity.”

I flicked the honey badger in the arm.

“Lock away your high-value prisoners where the lackeys can’t get them,” the mare summarized. “Asset hoarding. Smart.”

“Alec is probably going to be forced to give the key to the Antlered Arsehole. I liked that one best,” Shari told the honey badger .

“He needs a magic reserve if he can’t find Wystan,” I muttered.

“But what started the fight?” Daphne asked. “They’ve never been so rash before.”

“Bensen ran his mouth, that’s what,” Flora answered sourly. “I can see why Cody doesn’t like him. Too big for his britches sometimes, that one. Then it was fight time. The Brotherhood was already pissed, so they used the ‘disturbing the peace’ excuse to do some snatching—basically all Fair Folk present and any prominent townsfolk. Our rebellious mutterings have not been going unnoticed and so they took those who have the most influence, like Ms. Harris.”

The honey badger broke off to finish the sandwich. Mine and Sawyer’s stomachs rumbled in protest. With a nudge to his flanks, I sent him off to procure us the wheel of Brie cheese while I worked on the next potion.

Dried calendula petals and a whole vial of wild black-eyed Susan seeds started it off. I had Cousin Rose to thank for this piece of magic, or rather, her ineptitude when it came to anything involving a cauldron. She hadn’t inherited Aunt Peony’s talent, and this blue glitter—there really was no other name for it—of a failed healing salve could dissolve metal. Add a small pinch to a padlock and no more tumblers. Sprinkle liberally over a soldered-shut grate and watch your toes when it falls off.

Sawyer didn’t encounter too much resistance from the honey badger, stealing the Brie cheese with nary a swipe of claws in his direction. Flora, however, did devour the pear, almost out of spite.

After a satisfied burp, Flora reclined and ran a hand over her distended belly. “So I followed them.”

“You did?” Daphne blustered. The poor mare had been on pins and needles waiting for this part of the story. “But you can’t touch your magic. How could you risk—”

“I’m a honey badger. I have a surplus of fart-around-and-find-out energy. And I know this town. It wasn’t hard to find someplace to hide if I needed to. And I didn’t, because no one has had the gall to even consider following the Brotherhood back to their lair until me.”

“Until you got your memories back, you mean,” Shari corrected.

“Shush. Anyway, their lair is this old hanging shed in the middle of the woods south of the square. Off the beaten path, because, you know, who wants the stink of processing meat to ruin the small-town ambience? Or deal with the vermin it might attract.

“It’s cedar with plenty of gaps between the slats for ventilation, so I got a good look around from the outside. Everybody’s shackled to the hanging hooks, and they keep more than one Brother there on guard. One asleep, one watching. I didn’t see a tunnel entrance, but that doesn’t mean it’s not there.

“Spent the night out there spying then worked my way back here all inconspicuous-like and ran into Mr. Limps”—she pointed to Sawyer—“on the way. You finish up that concoction, cider witch, and I’ll turn right back around. That Domineering Dimwit has terrorized my rabbit and fairy long enough.”

“I still like Antlered Arsehole best,” Shari mused, sewing away.

“It’s too risky in the daylight.” I shook out the ache in my arm from all the stirring. The potion had abandoned its grainy, poultice-like nature for a paste akin to choux pastry. We were halfway there. “You should go at sunset when the light starts to play tricks on the eye.”

“Good, because I need a nap,” Sawyer murmured, already half asleep with the half-eaten round of cheese pillowing his chin.

“No nap for you yet, Stripes,” Flora said, heaving herself upright and stuffing her hand under the cot.

She produced a scroll of parchment that she unrolled against the packed-earth floor. A jar of crochet hooks, the hard cider bottle, a snacky sack of hazelnuts, and the orange-size pincushion weighed down the corners. Angling to the side to get a better view, I realized it was a map of Redbud. The castle, every business on the town square, Alder Ranch, Sweet Cider Farm, even the greater landscape attributes were accounted for.

The honey badger extracted a thin stick from the fire, spat on the tip to put the fire out, and sharpened it into a point against the bricks. Then she got to marking. “The shed’s over here, and this is where I found Stripes. Where’s the grate?”

As the tomcat and honey badger debated exactly where the tunnel exit was based off of Sawyer’s description, I took a closer look at some markings that didn’t seem to have any rhyme or reason. Crosshatches and infinity symbols. There was a list of names off to the side under another larger infinity symbol—Cody, Emmett, Codrin Alder, and others.

“The crosshatches are places we’ve gone to spread the rebellion,” Daphne explained when she caught me scrunching up my face. “The infinity symbol marks those places that eagerly embraced our message. ‘Forever Redbud’ supporters, as Flora calls them.”

“So few,” I murmured.

She nuzzled my shoulder. “Don’t give up. The Caer powder affects everyone differently—some are shaking off the illusion faster than others. And none of these places have ratted us out. Give it a little time. We’ll circle back to them. Speaking of.”

She craned her long neck to the window. The cold light highlighted her mane with silver and turned her hair to pearl. The Arabian eyed the position of the sun.

“It’s already past midday, if you can believe it,” she announced to the hut. “Now that I know you’re alright, Flora, if still ridiculously reckless, I need to go. With so much of the game having run off, the coyotes have been sniffing around the animal shelter more after my nanny goats. One of the kids got taken.” She blustered a sigh. “I miss Lewellyn. Good luck with the dress, Shari. Be safe, you three.”

Ducking her head, Daphne pushed through the heavy curtain flap and stopped short, her rear haunches and tail blocking the exit.

“Blight me, Daph.” Flora smacked the charcoal stick against the mare’s hamstring. “You’re letting in the cold!”

“. . . am I doing here?” Daphne was saying loudly. “Can’t a mare have afternoon tea with her friend? As a member of the Brotherhood , I would think you’d know something about camaraderie.”

“Thistle thorns,” I hissed, lurching upright even as I continued to stir. “It’s not done yet.”

“Gerty,” Flora hissed the robin’s name like it was a curse. “Quick! Hide everything! If they find this map, we’re done for.”

Why hadn’t the faithful little bird warned us?

“And release that robin at once,” the mare trumpeted. “You are not the game warden— I am. You overstep!”

“I oversee this castle when Cernunnos is away. It is you who overstep, horse.”

We all froze at the sound of that familiar voice. It belonged to the most vicious man we’d ever met. Alec.

“He’ll turn this place upside down out of spite if I don’t get out there,” I whispered.

There was nothing for it; I had to stop working on this potion or Alec would throw his magical weight—and Ossian’s name—around to do whatever he pleased. At least the first half of the layering spell I needed for the Mabian bindings was done. I abandoned the stirring stick and plucked up the snail and its jar of supplement sludge—three-quarters gone—and secured them away in my foraging bag.

“What do I do?” Sawyer snatched up the mountain ash stick with his teeth and gripped the handle of the metal cup between his paws. He nodded back and forth, continuing to mix. “Eesh! Is ’ike pe-nuh buh’her.” It certainly had the color of peanut butter too.

“Is the witch in there?” Alec demanded.

“Keep stalling, Daph,” Flora whispered, heaving herself off the cot. “Keep stitching, Shari. Nothing’s amiss.”

“ Everything ’s amiss!” But the porcupine sucked in a steadying breath and continued to sew, muttering to herself.

Daphne stamped a hoof and told the magic hunter, “Maybe she is, maybe she isn’t.”

“Meadow Hawthorne!” Alec shouted. “Come out here.”

“I’m not decent,” I shouted back. “Trying on my dress!”

“Meah-oh!” Sawyer yowled at me as he continued to stir.

The brave little cat never ceased to amaze me. Quickly, I unloaded the vial of yarrow tincture and a single white stinkhorn mushroom from the foraging bag. “When that turns brown like the floor, add six drops of tincture. Then pulverize the mushroom. Slicing it won’t work. It has to be mush before you add it in.”

“We’ll do it together,” Flora said. “Start pulverizing, Stripes.” Her map and makeshift paperweights stored away, she took over the stirring, her thicker muscles and brute strength making her better suited to the task.

“ Move , mare,” the magic hunter snarled. “To deny me is to deny Cernunnos himself. ”

“That’s a bit of a stretch,” the honey badger muttered under her breath.

“You have to finish the potion,” I told Sawyer. “It needs an incantation to set it and only you have magic. When it starts bubbling after the mushroom mush, say: ‘Heal the hurts of skin and bone. Make flesh new and strong as stone.’”

“Heal the hurts of skin and bone. Make flesh new and strong as stone,” he repeated, giving a stout nod when he’d finished. “Why does this sound like a healing spell? I thought this was supposed to open the grate?”

“It’s a botched healing spell that dissolves metal. Just sprinkle it over anything metal and it’ll eat away at it like acid.”

“Enough!” Alec roared.

Daphne screamed.

Whirling away from the fire, I caught sight of bluish-green ivy coiling tight around the white mare’s belly, flanks, and hocks before lifting her bodily off the ground and yanking her out of the doorway.

The red curtain fell flat, shuttering us within the hut in darkness save for the weak glow from the two windows and the muted radiance of the firepit.

Then the stick hut exploded with light as snarling green flames erupted from my hands.

Shari screeched, abandoning the dress to clutch an armful of yarn skeins to her chest and impale more on her quills, but my flames didn’t consume anything nor replace the air with infernal heat.

Not yet .

The curtain sizzled as I swept it aside and stormed outside. Daphne screamed again, black hooves scraping madly against the sky and touching nothing. Her mane and tail danced in an unseen current as Alec’s stolen magic kept her aloft .

The sneer on the magic hunter’s face faltered when he saw the expression on mine.

It vanished completely as the emerald flames flashed and engulfed my entire body.

Behind my eyes came the tell-tale prickle of heat that I was channeling the full power of my magic core, the whole of my eyes glowing the same green as my flames.

“Put my friend down ,” I seethed.