Page 60 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The birds were the first to herald our arrival.
Silver herons rose from the creeks and skimmed low over the trees.
The dying light of the day lanced off their wings in brilliant flashes like signal flares.
Their barking caws alerted the corvids and songbirds, who then told the squirrels and foxes, who warned the bears, forest lions, and stags.
Their roars and bugles notified the nearby towns, whose villagers looked up towards the sky in a mixture of awe and alarm.
Then the bells were struck. It was these deep, resonant tolls that rolled across the wooded valleys and hills and traveled all the way to the castle seat.
“Bonny,” the Green Mother prompted.
The bullfinch had been sleeping on her mistress’s shoulder and roused at the sound of her name.
She flew to the high fae’s hand, which had formed a C with her thumb as a perch.
Carefully, the high fae extended her hand out the window, shielding her feathery friend with magic until the time was just right.
Rhydian banked, slowing, and the Green Mother opened her hand. The bullfinch flapped away, twittering.
Shortly thereafter, Rhydian began his descent.
When the red dragon circled lower and lower over the portal’s meadow, lesídhe guardians rushed out of the trees with their swords.
They joined the ten portal guards—two were missing—and took up a defensive crescent-like position in front of the glittering archway.
A phalanx of high fae soldiers astride red stags thundered out of the forest next, Callan at their head.
The high lord was an impressive sight in platinum chain mail with a matching longsword, the silver heron feathers of his crown fluttering in the tresses of his unbound auburn hair.
He looked every inch the valiant knight come to slay the princess-stealing dragon, minus the white horse.
Riding on his right was a familiar purple-eyed fae—Fionn.
The fae soldiers cursed as their stags reared and stumbled in fright upon sight of the massive dragon. Before they could bolt, their lord’s iron will overrode their instinct to flee for the cover of the deepest thickets.
Less than a second later, a figure in silver and ice blue rushed into the meadow, flanked on either side by a fairy hound. Shannon rode her stag bareback without reins, her hands filled with her hunting bow and an arrow with a head as wide and long as my hand.
“Peace to you, great draig!” Callan’s voice was as loud as thunder, as bold as an ancient oak in a storm. It was the voice of the high lord of the Court of Beasts, one that could force any creature to submit. A dragon’s will was very strong, though.
“Peace, high lord,” Rhydian rumbled, almost begrudgingly.
He landed more gently than I thought him capable, a slight tremor shivering through the benches as the carriage set down against the grass. There was an awful shriek as the dragon removed his claws, and the weak evening light flooded the cabin in ten new porthole windows.
“Allow me,” the Green Mother said, and exited the carriage first.
Gasps of surprise and alarm greeted her appearance, then Callan’s voice boomed across the meadow, “You come here uninvited and unannounced, Green Lady. Explain yourself immediately.”
“And you will speak to my friend with more respect,” the dragon growled at him.
Callan did not apologize, nor did he buckle in fright. He only inclined his head in acknowledgment before drilling the high lady with a warning stare, demanding an explanation.
“Unannounced, Beastmaster?” she asked, almost coyly. “Surely my?—”
“My lord!” A high fae came hurtling from the forest with a hand caging something against his chest. He threw himself from his stag’s back before it had come to a complete stop and lifted a bullfinch to the attention of his lord. “A messenger from the Green Court! She says?—”
“That the high lady will be visiting.” Callan directed the fae’s attention to the radiant fae female standing not half a dozen yards away.
The fae messenger gulped, promptly turned a stunning shade of fuchsia, bowed, and retreated to the rear of the phalanx. With a chirp to the high lord, the bullfinch lifted from his hand and fluttered to her mistress.
“Well done, Bonny,” the Green Mother cooed as the bullfinch perched on her shoulder. She regarded Callan. “I suppose I am announced now.”
His tense demeanor did not change. “And the nature of your abrupt visit?”
“I’m merely an escort.”
After she gestured to the carriage, the rest of us filed out.
While the fae soldiers had shown exceptional bravery in front of the dragon, almost all of them shrank back with a jingle of chain mail at the sight of the winged faelene trotting her way through the dewy grass.
The tip of her long tail bounced in time to her stride. Dangerously cute.
“Misty Fields!” Shannon barreled her way to the front. Her fairy hounds loped after her, barking at Thistle. The faelene arched her back with a snarl, and the two dogs yelped and retreated behind their mistress.
“Shannon!” Callan had been so distracted by the dragon and the other sovereign that he hadn’t noticed his wife’s presence until now.
He flung himself from his stag in an obvious maneuver to prevent her from coming any closer.
“What are you doing here? You’ve been restricted to the castle for your part in the mortals’ escape. ”
Like the water from her home court, Shannon easily evaded his grasp. “I am your wife,” she fired back. “You restrict me nothing.”
His anger quickly turned to panic. “Get back! That’s a faelene. And how do you know that witch is not infected?”
Again she eluded him. “That faelene is obviously with Misty Fields, and she and I are friends,” she replied. “She won’t let anything happen to me. And if she were sick, wouldn’t the fae be sicker? The Green Lady is beautiful and hale, is she not? Just look at the grass at her feet.”
Newly sprouted wildflowers peeked out from between Briony’s toes.
“All is well, Beastmaster,” the Green Mother assured him. “In all things. The Blight remains contained.”
Then she leaned over and kissed my cheek.
The gesture was not lost on the fae, any of them.
Callan stilled, eyes wide, and murmured speculation rushed through his soldiers.
She was claiming me as her own, declaring me an esteemed member of her court.
Of her family. And enveloping me with her protection.
If Callan wanted retribution for my escape and the (probable) endangerment of Elfame, he’d have to take it up with the Green Court.
“Allow me to formally introduce you to Violet’s daughter. My niece.”
Shannon was the first to recover from that shocking statement.
She shoved her arrow back into the quiver at her hip and strung her bow across her shoulders.
She curtsied a greeting to the sovereign then grabbed my hands in hers.
Still angled herself so she was as far away as possible from Thistle.
“Were you successful, friend? Fionn only returned an hour ago, saying you had entered the Twilight Court but knew nothing else.”
The fae in question had resumed his post with his portal guards and now gave me a slight bow of his head. “The Manann mares made it clear that her cause was blessed by Eru. I was not to interfere anymore. With my deepest apologies, my lord, my lady.”
Callan, despite his poise, seemed like he’d bitten into something sour, and Shannon only lifted her nose a smidge higher in the air in a very distinct I told you so manner.
“I was successful, my lady,” I answered, “but I discovered more than I intended.”
Shannon flicked her gaze to the junior scholar. Kian stood with a straight back, though his confidence wavered under the high lady’s gaze. He gave her a deep, perfectly executed bow, then tapped his overcoat pocket. They would have much to discuss later.
“Not just that,” I said, releasing one of her hands to fish around in my pocket. I withdrew the wood-and-silver amulet with the horned lion insignia.
“Is that a scout’s amulet?” Callan thundered. “How do you have that?”
My grip tightened on Shannon’s hand. “You have a traitor in your court.”
“A traitor?” she echoed, surprised. Disbelieving. “Who?”
I scanned the portal guards. There were still only eleven of them. “Where is your brother, Ler?”
Shannon whipped around, searching each of the guard’s faces before sending a wild look at her husband. He gave her a small shake of his head—he did not know his brother-in-law’s whereabouts.
“Fionn?” she demanded of the captain.
“I do not know, my lady. Though, what this mortal accused me of at the Court of Shoals is starting to make sense now. She thought I was there to support another contingent of Erusians from the Court of Beasts, and my lord only sent one after them. Me.”
She threw her husband an accusing look. “Clever, acushla, to send an Erusian instead of a soldier to a foreign court. Their noble causes grant them immunity and you can’t be accused of hostility.”
He accepted her compliment with a polite nod of his head.
“Ler tracked us from this court,” I said, “which should have been made impossible by my shrouding powder and your gag order. He and some other Blades then destroyed The Happy Hound in the Seam?—”
“The Hound’s gone?” a soldier cried out. “Lions claw me to pieces, where am I gonna get ogre beer now?”
“—terrorized your court’s citizens, kidnapped my friends, and forced me to ransom them. Then he wanted my blood for Eru and the Samildánach for himself.”
“The curse,” Shannon whispered.
“I defeated him,” I finished softly.
Shannon grew cold, her hand sliding to her quiver. Her brother was more of an ass than Marten was, but he was still her brother nonetheless. “You killed my brother?”