Page 2 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

“ Acushla ,” Shannon said quickly, laying a hand on his arm.

I was unfamiliar with the term, but the tone of her voice said it was one of endearment.

“There is more to this witch than you give her credit for. Twice now she has asked for peace and proven that desire with action. I don’t think she’ll ask a third time. And I don’t think she should, either.”

She leaned in close, her lips brushing against the shell of his ear with words meant solely for him.

The sensual intimacy was undercut by her fingernails, each topped with a glittering diamond and beautifully manicured to resemble crescent moons, pinching down into the slashed sleeve of his doublet.

Her blue eyes, half-lidded with those long black lashes, were glacier hard.

Whatever she whispered to him stiffened his posture. He swallowed, and the magic swirling around his hands like a cloud of angry copper hornets vanished.

“Very well,” he murmured to her. Then he turned his head until they were nearly touching nose to nose. “And is it true what the Tainted One says? That you saved her? You had promised me your forays had ended, acushla. ”

Shannon’s sapphire gaze gave a guilty flick towards Shari. “Apologies, my lord.”

Callan grunted softly: a reprimand. Shannon stepped away, bowing her head, and the high lord announced in a louder voice, “We have guests, it seems.”

The tension drained out of me like snowmelt from a mountain after a sunny spring day. My knees would’ve buckled had Sawyer’s burst of fortifying magic through our bond not stabilized me.

The masked partygoers weren’t convinced of the validity of the high lord’s claim.

Callan snapped his fingers at the musicians, and one flute released a strangled flurry of notes before resuming the song my friends and I had interrupted.

No one moved… until the high lord of the Court of Beasts whirled around, the silver heron feathers dangling from the pointy crown on his head slashing across his cheeks.

Fae courtiers leapt into a dance then, their steps precise but tense, and the winter solstice masquerade resumed.

“Fionn, take your contingent back to the portal,” Callan ordered. “Ler, accompany my lady and her witch to the inner grove. The guests will stay here. With me.”

The Crafting Circle ladies and I shared a look. We were being separated to ensure we all stayed on our best behavior—if I hurt Shannon, their lives were forfeit. That was the price.

Flora immediately elbowed Daphne in her calf muscle. “Take the sword!”

It was a shrewd, brilliant idea. I quickly surrendered the iron rapier into the elegant older woman’s care, then scooped Sawyer into my arms. Daphne slipped Faebane carefully into her belt, bracing her hand on the hilt so the blade ran parallel with her body and wouldn’t inadvertently stab anyone.

The couples dancing nearby suddenly found the far end of the patio far more interesting and twirled away. Even the fae milling about the buffet table vanished, except one.

The broad-shouldered male in a maroon overcoat hummed a little tune to himself—oblivious—as he selected morsels from the various platters and bowls.

More than half of them never made it to the little plate he held in one hand; each little nibble was offered to a white furry creature hunched on his shoulder with a murmured, “Would Fiachna like a little snack, hmm?”

Wait, was that an opossum ?

Danger yanked me away from the strange observation—Callan had stepped forward to protest Faebane’s transference. Flora slammed her hands on her hips and glowered up at him. “Like we’ll just let you kill us if things go sour? I don’t think so.”

The high lord’s lips pursed, releasing a whistle that sliced through the night air more sharply than the portal guards’ radiant spearheads.

The forest came alive.

Out of the starlit gloom of the surrounding wood, humanoid trees approached the patio and stepped up between the pillars.

These adults were more androgynous than their juvenile and sapling counterparts—old enough that they didn’t need to rely on deception to secure prey—and far more treelike in appearance.

Wide canopies for hair, faces like wooden masks that burned with green coals for eyes, long trunk-like legs instead of skirts of tentacle roots.

Their stump-like feet still retained the dexterity of their youth, the shorter roots splaying and digging into the ground to anchor them with every step.

There were dozens of them, each armed with a wooden sword as thick as my thigh.

“Green Mother protect us,” I gasped. “Mallaithe.”

The fae hunting tree nearest us opened the maw of its wooden mask with a snap like that of an axe splitting a log and released an indignant groan.

Callan snorted. “As if this court would employ such monsters. These are lesídhe, shepherds of the forest.”

Well that was certainly something for my journal. My new journal, since Alec had burned my last one. The prick. I hoped my grizzly bear deprived him of his other hand.

“They’ll be your escorts while you are in my court,” the high lord said.

Escorts with massive swords that they could use to defend against Faebane. Or use as clubs to squash my friends into jelly. As far as I knew, Daphne wasn’t a master swordsman. Though, with the life she had lived, I wouldn’t put it past her.

“Shepherds?” Cody smacked his lips in disgust. “You mean to herd us around here like sheep?”

“Only if you forget your manners and insist on acting like the mortal beasts you are,” came the cool reply.

The old carpenter released an indignant croak and shoved his shirt sleeves up past his boney elbows. Standing with his hands linked behind his back and his face utterly exposed for attack, the high lord of the Court of Beasts didn’t even blink as Cody stomped forward.

I was about to bark his name in reprimand when I remembered it was unwise to tell the fae your identity. What emerged from my throat was something akin to a rooster’s crow.

But the old carpenter had only taken one step before wiser heads prevailed and his portly best friend grabbed the back of his suspenders.

The soles of his boots squealed against the stone floor as Cody tried to take another step, but he was firmly in Emmett’s grip and the antiques dealer was as stout and immovable as a fire hydrant.

“Dogs only bother sheep when they don’t behave,” Emmett said in that calm grandfatherly tone of his. “So let’s behave by the buffet table, shall we?”

He didn’t give Cody an option, he just hauled him off after him.

At the buffet table, the lone fae male with the opossum (I was definitely sure now) gave a startled gasp and stumbled away as if he was only just now realizing there were humans in his midst. He retreated to a cluster of fae in maroon robes who were obviously embarrassed to know him, whereupon he was immediately cuffed across the head by his elder.

While tall, the elder still had to arch up on tiptoe to deliver the blow on his subordinate’s head.

Then the owl perched on the elder’s shoulder promptly slashed at the opossum, who shrank against the male’s neck with a hiss.

The ravens on his colleagues’ shoulders cackled, finding glee that it was not them on the receiving end of the reprimand.

Unperturbed, Cody and Emmett began helping themselves to the food. Cody had to give everything a hearty, judgmental sniff before dropping it onto his plate and rubbing his fingers free of crumbs or grease. Emmett used the provided tongs.

“Go with them,” I urged my friends in a whisper. “Stay away from the wine. And don’t use your real names.”

“Beaver, Coon,” Flora rattled off quickly, pointing to each member of our little party, “Mare, Quills, Stripes, and Misty.”

“And yourself?” Daphne asked.

“Lady Badass, of course.”

“Honey Badger,” Shari corrected. “Or maybe just Honey or Badger. Something tells me we’ll screaming a lot here and brevity would be best.” She shivered.

“Ah, yes, it’s perfect.” Flora rubbed her hands together. “Honey will trick people into thinking I’m a sweetheart, and then I’ll go for their ankles.” Eyes aglow, she snapped her teeth at us.

“I think we want to be as inconspicuous as possible, Honey ,” Daphne impressed. “And that means no biting ankles or picking fights.”

Shari pressed a hand against her growling stomach. “Honey would be nice. Any food, really.”

Daphne walked her ward over to the old men and plucked the flute of wine from Cody’s hand before setting it firmly back on the table and giving him a light swat on the arm.

“Come, witch,” Ler said, ramming the butt of his spear against the ground. “You insult my sister by making her wait.”

Shannon was indeed waiting on me, her hands clasped lightly in front of her, but she didn’t look impatient. She looked… expectant. Three females had joined her and not one of them seemed tense. No, that was all Ler and his inflated ego.

When I didn’t obey his command, the male had the audacity to impress his aura upon me.

He wasn’t sneaky like Ossian, using seduction as his preferred method of persuasion.

My oak tree immediately revolted against the foreign influence, and I gave Ler such a look of disgust that the male actually started in alarm.

Ignoring him, I bent down and grabbed Flora’s shoulder. “You know the customs of Elfame better than anyone?—”

“But I’m not from this court!”

My eyebrows winged up in surprise. “How varied can the customs of fae courts be?”

“You have no idea.”

I groaned inwardly. “Then do your best. Our friends are your responsibility now. Behave , Honey.”

“I will if he does,” the garden gnome said, jerking her chin at the high lord before marching off to join our friends.

“And he only will if we do,” Sawyer told me through the bond, hunkering down in my arms.

“Alrighty then,” I murmured, heading over to the high lady and her attendants. “Let’s play nice.”