Page 43 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

The Field of Black Stars was appropriately named.

A stone’s throw away from us, the bird’s-foot trefoil meadow was nothing but glittering black ash.

At the end of that expanse on a seaside cliff was a castle wreathed in rippling shadow.

Beyond, the sea shimmered a dazzling blue and seemed far too colorful for this dreadful landscape.

And if the morbidity before us wasn’t enough, a cloaked figure waited for us with a naked sword in his fist. The blade was faintly luminescent in a very familiar way. Its metal was the same as the spearheads used by the portal guards.

The carriage lurched to a stop, the Manann mares snorting and tossing their manes. The rest of the herd clustered close by, neighing and scraping the sky with their silver hooves.

“Stay in the carriage,” I ordered Kian. The junior scholar was no fighter and would only get in the way. I knew it, he knew it, and he readily hunkered down on his bench, arms wrapped around Fiachna.

A burst of magic shoved open the door and I lurched out onto the turf, Sawyer and Flora hot on my heels. If Ler was back with more demands, I was going to?—

“Here for a rematch, long legs?” the garden gnome hollered.

She’d hauled herself up onto Sawyer’s back like she had when my cider press had been hexed and they’d gone off hunting after Brandi’s toad familiar, Cletus.

To his credit, my tabby tomcat didn’t protest this time.

“This time it’ll be a fair fight since I’m not caught unawares, you coward. ”

“Give us our friends back,” Daphne demanded. White hair streamed out behind her head like a battle banner as she crossed the meadow with sure, stomping steps. The Manann mares not harnessed to the carriage immediately flocked around her.

The cloaked figure pulled back his hood, revealing a dark face and violet eyes. Fionn.

“What is this?” I challenged. “Ler wasn’t Blade enough so he sent you to terrorize us some more?”

The captain didn’t reply right away, his gaze flicking from us to the Manann mares surrounding us in a protective herd. Like Kian had, he wore an expression of boyish wonder at the sight of the sacred horses.

“Ler?” Fionn finally echoed in his deep, steady voice. “My lord sent only me.”

Callan hadn’t sent Ler and the others? Then how did Ler know where we were going?

“Like an idiot,” Flora jeered. “I’m going to tell every water fae we come across that the high lord sent covert agents across the border without permission. Have fun with the ensuing battle.”

The captain carefully pushed the tip of his naked blade into the flowers and pulled at the strings of his shirt with both hands.

On his chest was the sheaves-and-crown of a true Erusian.

“I am Mac Eru, a devout son to our goddess. Boundaries have no meaning to me. There will be no incident, no battle.”

“You sure about that?” the gnome pressed, spoiling for a fight.

He ignored her, violet eyes drilling into my ivy-green ones. “Turn away from this course, witch,” he commanded.

My hands flew to my hips. “Does your lord have the linguist and a way to summon the Samildánach?”

“I do not know.”

“Then no thank you.”

Fionn calmly retrieved his sword. “It is not just my lord’s anger you risk. It is all of Elfame’s. As Mac Eru, I cannot let you endanger the sanctity of this land. I will take you back to the Court of Beasts by force if necessary.”

The luminescent blade swept up into a hanging high guard. Threads of green magic flowed up the Erusian’s legs, drawn from the land. His motives were pure.

But so were mine.

The Manann mares surged forward, trumpeting their outrage.

Unlike the Blades we’d encountered, this Erusian immediately broke off his attack.

Sword lowered, he stood stock-still as the horses swarmed to create a blockade between us.

Fionn remained frozen as they pranced and pawed, only shutting his eyes when they blasted hot breath into his face.

Enbarra and Liath were the most vocal with a series of ear-splitting whinnies and muttering nickers.

“But,” he protested once.

Enbarra snapped her teeth at him. She would hear nothing else, and five other mares joined her to herd Fionn away.

“ Sguir dheth ,” he cried.

The Manann mares halted, ears twitching, tails swishing.

With a short huff, Fionn clasped both hands over the hilt of his lowered blade and bowed. He sheathed it with a sharp snick and looked between their muscled shoulders and long necks to meet my eyes. A sharp nod, then the Erusian vanished in a flash of green light.

“Wish I knew that trick,” Flora muttered.

She and me both.

Enbarra whinnied her triumph and trotted back to us. She nibbled on Daphne’s shoulder and enjoyed the elderly woman’s stroking fingers on her chin.

“Fionn has respected their wishes and has left in peace,” Daphne told us excitedly. “Enbarra is very pleased that there remain some Erusians who still respect the ancient voices of the world.”

Flora grumbled something about not being able to break somebody’s nose and slid from Sawyer’s back.

I empathized—a least a fight would’ve been worth the time we’d just wasted.

The garden gnome stomped back to the carriage and climbed the step to peer inside the open door.

“Get off the floor, Book Boy. You’re coming with us. ”

The Manann mares had taken us as close to the Field of Black Stars as they dared and left us to travel the rest of the way on foot. Unharnessed, the working horses joined their herd mates and milled about the pumpkin-shaped carriage and cropped flowers as they waited nervously for the return trip.

Kian had wanted to wait with them, but Flora had twisted his ear and made him come.

We stood only a few yards away from where the beautiful meadow abruptly became obsidian gravel and the junior scholar had not stopped sniveling once.

Though, that could’ve been Fiachna. According to theory, only the Twilight Court was still infected and the Field of Black Stars was safe to traverse, but no fae had risked it to find out for sure.

“I’ll have to be quick,” I murmured.

Neither Kian, Flora, nor Fiachna had been able to locate the tracker while I’d slept.

I didn’t have the time to search for it, either, not with the sun already declaring it was afternoon above us.

I had only a few precious hours of sunlight left, so I had to make good on getting enough treasure and hope I had enough energy left after this ordeal to fight for my friends’ lives.

For what seemed like the tenth time, I made sure I had Ler’s treasure sack in my pocket.

I couldn’t wait to fill it up to bursting and then clobber him over the head with it.

On my back was my empty pack to carry the Samildánach and, if I could somehow spare the time to find it, whatever mortal artifact Kian was convinced had stagnated the Blight’s spread.

I’d softened to his request since the beginning of this venture, and if I was treasure-picking for Ler to ransom my friends, I could look around for his artifact too.

“Find anything else in your books?” I asked the junior scholar, stalling.

He shook his head. “I-I wish I had, Misty. Truly.”

It was tough to swallow, but I managed with a big swig of water. I could bring no fae food or water with me, lest it spoil and possibly infect me. “’Kay.”

“Now remember what I told you in the carriage,” the junior scholar said, “this place is a magical dead zone, so you won’t be able to use magic here.

It’s why no fae have resettled this area—the Twilight Court is cut off from Elfame’s heart.

The Blight consumed everything , even the magic in the soil, like locusts or direwolves.

According to my research, the Blight is restricted to the castle.

Since you’re not fae, it shouldn’t recognize you as, um, food.

But you don’t want to risk giving it foothold either. Don’t touch anything Blighty.”

I nodded, letting out a deep breath. “Right.”

“The mirror should be in Beryl’s sea chest in her room on the fourth floor in the southeast tower.”

Another whoosh of breath. “Correct.”

With a tight smile, the junior scholar reached forward and gave my shoulder an awkward pat. “Be, um, as safe as you can?”

“We’ll be right here, dear,” Daphne said. The elegant matron had attracted a cloud of little butterflies with lavender-blue wings, which she gently shooed aside so she could give me a good-luck hug.

Flora thrust both fists in the air. “You got this, cider witch!”

“The castle’s not too far. I’ll be able to help,” Sawyer said a little sulkily. We’d already said our good-byes with lots of aggressive snuggles, and now the cat just pouted in the trefoil.

I’d made him promise on his soul not to follow me. He would stay with the others where it was safe and use our bond to relay communications. If the Wandering Mirror had indeed wandered off from where Kian’s scroll said it should be, I’d need instruction.

Swallowing some more water, I tried not to think about everyone depending on me. I shook out my shoulders and stepped forward, eager to just get this over with already.

A shadow passed over the flowers on my second step, and I looked frantically to the sky. What menace plagued us now? Some freak of nature escaped from the purgatory of the Twilight Court?

“Thistle,” the tabby tomcat cried.

“Fiachna, hide!” Kian said, yanking open his coat.

The faelene swooped a tight circle, then her wings vanished with a little pop! She dropped the remaining three feet to the meadow, landing on all fours. Ignoring the rest of us, she stalked up to Sawyer until she was almost nose to nose with him.

“You’re wrong,” she told him bluntly. “I made my choice too, and I know where I belong.”

My cat, who had tensed upon the faelene’s arrival, relaxed into a seated position. A big dopey grin spread across his whiskered face. Relief and happiness flooded through our bond, and suddenly I didn’t feel as nervous.

The faelene turned fluidly around and trotted over to me. She really did have the cutest trot you ever did see, but the warning bells of her previous behavior sang, Dangerously cute! Watch out!

She stopped at my toes and said, “Your actions have changed my mind.”

Well if that wasn’t the epitome of generic not-apologies. Something told me the faelene would rather choke on her own tongue than utter the phrase, “I’m sorry.”

“I would like some cuddles before you go,” she added.

“Oh.” I hadn’t expected that, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to comply lest she think she could bully her way into getting anything she wanted. But there was something in her gaze that made me bend down and pick her up. Mindful of her belly, of course.

She wiggled into her preferred position—draped over my shoulder—and turned her face towards mine to whisper, “Listen well, Sawyer’s witch.”

My hand stumbled over its caress along her spine.

“Do you know why a faelene’s claws and teeth leave irreversible scars on our enemies? Why the Blight doesn’t affect us like everything else? It is because embedded in us is living faebane.”

I masked my gasp by clearing my throat and turned half away from the others so they couldn’t read my expression. “ What ?”

“Because it is living metal of the immortal lands, it does not outright kill. But yours does.” Thistle wiggled again, seemingly to find a more comfortable position, but I felt her paw tap the hilt of Faebane under my oilskin cloak.

“You have had a weapon to defend yourself against the Blight this whole time.”

“How?” I murmured.

“You don’t know how to use a sword?” she scoffed. “You slash, obviously.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, it would be better if it were an enchanted sword.” She leaned in closer until her whiskers tickled my ear. “And the fae male is wrong about your magic.”

My fingers kneaded her scruff a little more vigorously to hide my excitement. “What do you mean? How do you know?”

“We faelene are sensitive to magic, living or inert. It’s how we’re so good at evading the fae. That, and we can shield ourselves from notice.”

So that’s how this little stalker had evaded detection by my sparkle vision!

“And yours, witch of the mortal lands, is nothing like theirs.”

“But I fused with my core. We’re one and the same.”

“And yet still different. Just because you fused with your core doesn’t mean it diffused into your body, the way magic is with the fae.

You still have a core, which allows the potential for more .

A fae could not bond with a beast no matter how hard he tried.

A fae cannot have more than one affinity.

And fae did not evolve in a land of dead faebane. ”

These secrets were monumental. “How do you know all this?”

“I’m a faelene,” she replied matter-of-factly.

Ugh, I should’ve known. This Thistle just had to be a distant relative of Ame.

“Thank you, Thistle.” I rubbed the side of her cheek where she liked scratches best.

She purred only for a moment. “Say nothing about these things I’ve shared with you,” she warned, claws pricking the oilskin cloak.

“I won’t,” I promised as I set her down.

“And don’t thank me. Gratitude has nothing to do with this. I do what I want because I want to. And I do this to make our Sawyer happy.”

Our Sawyer?

A question for another time.

With her tail held confidently erect, she trotted back to the tomcat to sit beside him.

She didn’t greet him with a bunt like other affectionate cats would, but she sat very close.

Then she snarled, “Don’t ever show me your back like that again, or Pangur help me, I’ll—” She snapped her teeth at him.

His ears lowered and he leaned away, too cowed to do more than that.

“You have more explaining to do, kitty,” I told Sawyer.

“Later.” He gulped. “Be safe, Meadow.”

With a deep breath, I stepped out onto the ruined soil and entered the domain of the Twilight Court.