Page 61 of Twisting Twilight (Homesteader Hearth Witch #9)

“He is dead, Lady Shannon,” the high lady of the Green Court declared, “for attacking my niece while her back was turned, and after she had released her claim on his life debt. For those infractions, I ordered him met with draig fire.”

Rhydian huffed then, releasing twin tendrils of smoke that entwined each other like amorous snakes.

“Oh, gods,” Shannon whispered, drawing away so she could cover her mouth with trembling fingers. Surely she was envisioning her brother’s fate, his screams, his scorched body. Did a body even remain, or was it merely ash upon the wind? “But why? How?—”

“I think we should ask your lady attendant, Agnes.”

The beautiful blonde-haired attendant was a rat.

The high lady dropped her hands abruptly, defensively. As much as I admired her devotion to her friend, it was misplaced. “Agnes? My ladies would never betray me.”

“Ask her.” I lifted the rectangle of wood and silver. “Ask her how some of these amulets were imbued with water magic. And why Ler would have one of his own to track us by. She does have a lover in barracks, doesn’t she?”

First her brother, now her friend. Shannon’s face clouded over, but reason could not be denied. “Bring her to me,” she told no one in particular.

As three fae wheeled their stags around to carry out their lady’s command, Callan sheathed his sword and approached his wife.

She shivered as his hands melded over her shoulders.

He drew her against him and held her gently like a bird.

A bird with the freedom to break free at any moment, or turn and seek affection.

Shannon remained in a meditative trance, immune to even the whines of her fairy hounds, until the soldiers returned.

Agnes screamed at the sight of the red dragon.

She tried to fling herself off the stag, but the soldier abandoned the reins and imprisoned her with his arms. After he dismounted, dragging her down with him, it took two soldiers to overcome her kicking feet and haul her forward.

Behind, Laoise and Orla—both paler than milk—forced themselves to keep up.

Giving Thistle a wide berth, the soldiers shoved Agnes in front of her mistress and quickly returned to their fellows.

There was safety in numbers against the faelene, in theory.

Callan released his wife and stepped back a pace, waiting nearby.

“Mistress,” Agnes blubbered, casting horrified glances between the faelene and her mistress’s stormy face. “What?—”

“Was it Ler or you who tagged the scout amulets with water magic?” she demanded. “And how did he know of Misty’s quest? You three were ordered to be silent about my plan.” Shannon regarded her other ladies then, proud Laoise and sultry Orla.

“I spoke to no one, Mistress,” Laoise vowed. “I will swear to the truth of it, however you see fit.”

Orla nodded, black ringlets bouncing. “I, too, will swear to my silence.”

Agnes still said nothing against the charges against her, whimpering as she looked from one friend’s face to another, pleading.

Laoise struck, grabbing a fistful of silky blonde hair and twisting. Agnes shrieked. “Your lady demands an answer, worm!”

“Say something,” Orla beseeched. “Tell us the truth. We’re your friends?—”

“No, you aren’t!” Agnes clawed at Laoise’s hand, her fingernails drawing blood. Laoise snarled and let go, and Agnes stumbled back a few steps. Her cheeks were blotchy and red from her tears.

“So you did do it,” Orla whispered. “Why?”

“You two bully me, you belittle me, you despise me for hailing from a small court?—”

“We’re all from lesser courts,” Laoise said. “Even our mistress.”

“When have I ever made you feel like you were less?” Shannon demanded in a quiet voice.

“You don’t defend me from their venom!”

“I shouldn’t have to,” the high lady snapped. “We are high fae. We are strong. The frail are threshed away. And you… I relished your gentleness, your innocence. You were the perfect foil to Laoise and Orla. But perhaps I mistook these qualities for what they really are—weakness.”

“It is not weak to want more for your life!”

“Want? I gave you everything! Friendship, a beautiful home?—”

“Like I’m one of your precious dogs?”

The fairy hounds growled.

“I was beholden to you, Shannon, for every scrap.”

“Scraps?” Laoise snarled. “Our mistress is the most generous female I’ve ever met. She risked everything to save us from the Blight and held nothing back for herself. Not even her own mate. Then she gave freely to any who asked. And never scraps.”

“Is that what you thought all along?” Orla asked, bewildered. “That our friendship was bought? That it could be taken away on a whim?”

Shannon’s hands had balled into fists, but at least she wasn’t readying an arrow in her bow. “You speak of material things when I focus on your heart. And you betrayed mine! For what?”

“For assurance,” Agnes screamed. “Do you know what we learn in the Court of the Vernal Pool? That despite Elfame being the immortal lands, everything is fleeting. Courts rise and fall, the favor of the lords and ladies waxes and wanes, that you must take what abundance you can get whenever you can.

“I told Ler where the witch was going, and everyone knows about the legendary treasure that was lost when the Court of Shoals fell. He would do the rest, I would take my leave of this court, and then we would run away together. Free and beholden to no one.”

“Until the money ran out,” Laoise said flatly. “Then he’d leave you, simple as that.”

“He wouldn’t!”

“My brother was brilliant and beautiful,” Shannon said quietly, “but he only cared about what people could do for him. The moment they no longer served a purpose, they were discarded.”

Agnes stilled. “What do you mean ‘was?’”

“My brother is dead.” The announcement was flat, void of emotion.

“By his own foolish actions, not yours. Cling to whatever solace that provides you, for it will be some time before you experience comfort again.” She lifted a hand.

“To the lion’s den. They will discover the extent of your sins before extracting their payment in blood. ”

The blonde fae screeched as two fae soldiers approached. “Mistress, please?—”

Shannon slapped Agnes’s grasping hands away from her. “I am not your mistress anymore. I doubt I’m even your friend.”

Then, as Sawyer had once done to Thistle, the high lady of the Court of Beasts turned her back on her former friend.