Page 27 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

“Perish the thought,” the garden gnome snorted. Flora’s magic had gone a little wild overnight, encasing her in all those bean sprout tendrils too. Tearing the fleshy lace from her body by the fistful, she asked business-like, “What do you want to do, cider witch?”

“Can you track Stripes?” Daphne asked gently. “Maybe we should split up?—”

“Absolutely not.” I turned to Kian, and something on my face made him take a hasty step back and bounce off the cavern wall. “What, exactly, is a faelene?”

He cleared his dry throat—he’d slept with his head craned back, mouth open, snoring lightly. “Well,” the junior scholar began, rubbing the back of his neck, “they are…” He said something in Faerish and looked to the garden gnome for assistance.

“Bogeyman,” Flora translated.

“That’s right.” Kian nodded, relieved. “They look like Stripes, but black. Or orange. Some have wings that sprout from their body on command. Some shed their shape and become beasts made of scraps of shadow, six times their original size. Some can disconnect their jaws like a snake and swallow fae whole. The Cat Sídhe is the most famous of them, said to be a soul-stealer. The white cat Pangur Bán is their deity, the Hunter. Some say he is beloved of Eru Herself.”

“Are they aggressive?” I asked. I already knew they could inflict a lot of damage, but maybe that was only when they were provoked?

“Oh, very much so, yes.” Kian nodded emphatically.

“If you offend one—which is so easily done it would be comical if the results weren’t so deadly—you probably won’t survive its attack.

They’re impossibly fast, intelligent, and vicious.

The wounds they inflict never heal right and leave the most frightful scars—not even a fae healer can smooth them away. ”

“Stripes is still alive,” I said, confirming that fact through our bond for probably the millionth time since he’d been kidnapped. It was easier this time, my heart a little lighter after cooking. “If faelene are so nasty, why isn’t he dead? Why did it take him in the first place?”

Kian gave a helpless shrug and postulated, “They do what they want?”

How very much like a cat.

If a faelene and a feline had anything in common, maybe Sawyer could reason with it. Or, worst case scenario, stun it with his fragor magnus spell like he had that luachra and make a break for it.

As much as I hated to admit it, going after Sawyer while he was in the clutches of such a nasty creature would put everyone at risk. If I went alone, there was a chance I wouldn’t find the mirror and make it back to Redbud in time.

Thistle thorns.

“We stick to the plan.” I swung the pack onto my shoulders and adjusted the straps with a crisp yank. “Let’s go.”

The baby dragonet squeaked in protest as Daphne carefully placed it on the ground towards the rear of the cave. “Stay safe, baby,” she murmured. With a little grumble, it ambled off into the darkness, pausing once to glance back at the druidess.

“But Stripes,” Shari said, stunned. With her love of Ame, she could not fathom me willingly giving him up.

There was nothing willing about it, but I wasn’t going to endanger them against a faelene when Sawyer had magic at his disposal. And magic he could borrow from me without my permission it seemed. Maybe transferring that sparkle vision to him had opened up a new pathway between us?

“We still have time for our paths to converge,” I said. “I can sort of communicate with him at this distance, so I’ll be able to guide him back to us.” I absolutely refused to amend that statement with a maybe or a probably .

The decision had the same effect on me as one of Ossian’s kisses—my stomach churned like it was a grave full of worms. Swallowing back a sour taste in my mouth, I tried not to snap at Kian. “The luachra returned sometime in the night but have moved on. How do we get out of this forest?”

“We’ll cut north,” he answered quickly, “as best we can, but navigating the Fire Grove is not a precise science with how the leaves distort the sunlight. If we don’t make any mistakes, we can reach the other side by nightfall?—”

Not good enough. “And if it were a precise science?”

The junior scholar looked up at the trees as if the answer could be found in their red leaves. He ran a hand through his black hair, the golden tips twinkling, then sighed. “Maybe half a day? But it’s never been done, not even by the high fae. This forest?—”

He broke off as I shucked my boots, then my socks, stuffing them into the boots and tucking the bundle under my arm. I gripped the warm, firm earth with my toes.

“It’s nice, right?” Flora gushed. “It’s an alfisol soil, typical of old deciduous forests. Nothing like those wretched red clay beds back home.”

“And here I was thinking you’d be more obsessed with these fascinating trees,” Daphne mused. “Perhaps stealing a seed or two to bring back home to your garden?”

I tuned them out and grounded myself with a single breath.

With one blink, my eyesight shifted. Elfame in all its vibrant glory unfolded before my senses, and I saw again the threads that bound me to my loved ones and smelled their strange scents.

pushed the boundaries of my vision farther and farther, dimly aware of shuffling feet as my friends backed away from me.

Distantly, I wondered if my appearance had changed like it did whenever I summoned my battle magic now.

Whenever I seized hold of Violet’s vengeance, for that’s where its root really was.

I didn’t think so, because it wasn’t vengeance driving me now—it was devotion.

Despite the change in my intent, the strain of pushing this new sight to its limits had me panting.

At last the entire width of the Fire Grove spread before me from an aerial point of view.

It was a like a scar across the land, dividing the prairie in the south from the hills and copses of trees in the north.

A few bright clusters—the hunting lodges—appeared at the eastern and western tips.

There was a pinch where the scar narrowed, like the Cupid’s bow of sensuous mouth’s upper lip. I angled for it and began walking.

There was a surprised murmur behind me, then rapid footfalls as my friends hurried to catch up.

My pace was relentless but not punishing.

Cody’s back and knees never called for a break and Emmett never wheezed a plea for me to slow down.

Daphne’s long strong legs were well suited for forest walking and the constant, persistent motion kept Shari focused.

Kian naturally had a fae’s endurance, and Flora rode on his shoulder opposite Fiachna to give Daphne a rest. Not that she’d given Kian a choice in the matter.

With her magic and Kian’s enhanced senses, they kept watch for the group and allowed me to concentrate wholly on guiding us out of the Fire Grove with my sparkle vision.

Each step created another connection to the immortal land, offered understanding of the ecosystem around us. Revealed secrets that only those who stopped to listen and watch ever discovered.

The larrea trees with their tacky, creosote-like bark were not suited for squirrels and other tree-dwelling mammals, but there were plenty of birds who eagerly sought its stick.

Its coating kept their toes and nails, even their beaks, immune to the caustic white sap found in the tree’s fig-like fruits.

They could prize open the rinds for the fruit inside, like marrow from bone, without injury.

Dozens of different species flitted above, chirping their curiosity when they weren’t nibbling on the figs.

White seeds and bits of orange pulp fell to the barren floor in a soft, persistent melody of dull thuds like fat raindrops on soaked soil.

Their chatter and carefree browsing revealed no predators lurked nearby.

The air was warmer here, trapped and insulated by the copious flame-colored leaves; I could only imagine into which crevices the beads of sweat would run had we traveled here in the height of summer.

Crimson-winged cicadas sang their song and sucked on sap—it was their feedings that left the larrea trees weeping pitch that enabled the birds to eat the figs and repopulate the forest. Sulfur-colored hawk-moths twirled in the strongest shafts of red sunlight, soaking in the warmth that would fuel them for the rest of the day.

Their flutterings pollinated the white flowers that closed like fists and matured into fruit.

For all its hellish light, the Fire Grove was a simple, gentle system. No wonder luachra and beithir flocked to this haven; the warmth and solitude were the perfect environment for the young luachra to grow without predation and for the beithir to transform without disruption.

It was wondrous.

Something like contentment budded like a dahlia in the heart of me and began to unfurl its petals. The insatiable curiosity I’d suppressed since fleeing the manor urged me to find the nearest bottle of Riesling, give its cork a pop, and start exploring. Reveling.

This. This is what my younger self had craved.

I’d mistaken it as membership to the robed elders of the Circle of Nine.

That had been the epitome of my ambition, my yearning, because I hadn’t known any better.

Hadn’t had a magical core that wasn’t curbed and trained into being something other than true itself.

My oak tree was blossoming in this place.

It was like the peace and happiness I had gleaned from cooking but magnified.

The oak stretched its branches and roots in every direction, wiggling into the dirt and reaching into the sky.

What mysteries it could discover. What power it could gain. What it could do. What I could be?—

I tamped down on the thought and seized that dahlia.

I had no right feel any peace or excitement or homecoming or whatever joy this was.

Not with Sawyer taken. Not with Ossian terrorizing Redbud and my brother trapped in an Unseelie prison.

Not when Arthur fought without the surety that I would return. Not… yet.

My hands were poised to rip that dahlia’s head off its stalk, but instead I smooshed its petals back into a haphazard bud. Stored those feelings away to be unlocked at another time.

The guilt lessened, and I soldiered on.

The sparkle vision steered us clear of potential beithir dens, though it sensed no creatures inside. Either they were truly empty or dragons could hide their magical signatures without parasite jewelry.

I didn’t dwell on that thought. Instead, I concentrated pushing as many images of where we were and where we were headed down the bond.

It had brightened at some point late this morning—Sawyer regaining consciousness from sleep.

Snatches of excitement and impatience came in bursts every now and then, though I had no inkling of what they meant.

But he was still alive. My heart ached but did not break.

It lightened even more at that first breath of cool, grass-scented air as we stepped clear of the Fire Grove. Kian actually whooped and sprinted ahead, head craned towards the blue sky. Flora’s shouted in surprise, her rodeo training kicking in and her tiny fingers grabbing hold of his coat collar.

“It’s only early afternoon,” the fae crowed. “Incredible!”

“Ack, keep your voice down,” Cody hollered. “Dragons, remember?”

I blinked away the sparkle vision and turned to my friends. “How are you doing? Do you need to rest?”

Emmett wiped away the damp from his glasses. “Could use another bite to eat, but otherwise, I’m doing just fine.” He seemed surprised at his assessment and turned to Daphne and Shari. “How ’bout you, ladies?”

From what I remembered by the thumping of Daphne’s walking staff, it hadn’t borne much of her weight. And I hadn’t heard a single fwip-shhh of yarn through a crochet hook.

“A little thirsty, but this canteen will take care of that.” Daphne winked at me and tilted her head back for a swig.

“I’m… good,” Shari answered, sounding surprised.

The quiet crafter has always been a bit pale and soft, her body accustomed to the rocking chairs under the covered veranda or indoor couches were she could craft her anxiety away.

Now there was a vibrant flush to her cheeks, she was standing up straight, and her intelligent eyes had a sparkle in them as if someone had mentioned Charlie’s name.

And this, all without her medication. She even gave us one of her rare close-lipped smiles. It faded quickly. “Stripes?” she asked.

“I… I think he’s trying to find his way back to us.” Tension pooled between my brows as they scrunched up in concentration. “ Hostage keeps coming to mind, but he’s not being mistreated.”

“Faelene are fickle and volatile creatures, but very curious,” Kian said, jogging up. “It seems his chances at staying alive are good, but?—”

Flora twisted his ear before he could say but don’t get your hopes up.

“To the ferry crossing?” I prompted tersely, focusing on the one thing I could control. My magic seemed to tickle me, and I amended my thought with a wry, inward smile. One of the few things I could control.

Kian quickly gestured to the left. “This way. Over this next hill we should see the River Neave. We’ll follow it upstream, keeping to this side until the crossing. Once we do, we will have left the Court of Beasts, and those amulets will no longer work. Unless you can fuel them.”

With a resigned sigh, I uncoiled the tow rope from where it hung across my chest. “Take this.” I handed him the rope and tied the other end around my waist. Manipulate the primal elements separately?

Seemingly no problem now, in small increments.

Combining them to manipulate sight and create an illusion?

Let’s just say I’d been lucky with Ossian’s plum. “I need to practice.”

And yet, with the dahlia bud still in my heart, petals bruised, I knew this magic was going to be easier than it ever had before.