Page 55 of A Beastly Court

“Well, we missed breakfast, and I can’t think on an empty stomach, especially intrinsic thoughts. I say we sneak out for a bite then go to the courtyard. If I’m going to contemplate my heart, whatever that means, then I’m going be a good little witch and do it in the fresh air under that willow tree with my friend.”

“So long as your friend can hide in the foraging bag, he’s all for it,” the cat said, hopping down and heading straight for the aforementioned (and now clean) bag. “Also, your friend would like some chicken for breakfast, if it’s not too much trouble.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

The bedroom door creaked all too loudly in my opinion as I forced it open a crack to peer down the east wing hallway.

Deserted, as always, nothing but cold gray stone and dormant sconces and the occasional drab pastoral painting.

“Anything?” Sawyer whispered up through the hole in the foraging bag. “I’ve got better hearing than you do. Lemme have a listen.”

“Shhh, stay in there,” I whispered back, straining my ears for any audible hint that the east wing wasn’t as empty as it looked. “It’s been hours,” I murmured. “He’s in his smithy or out hunting or something. I think we’re good. Ossian never goes to the kitchen, anyway, and Mrs. Bilberry will keep quiet if I ask her to. At least for a little while.”

Slipping into the hall, I closed the door behind me, cursing it for its squeak. I’d ask Mrs. Bilberry for some oil to lubricate the hinges after getting something to eat. Then I snuck down the east wing on soft leather boots, two fingers of my right hand stuffed into the hole in the bag and drawing comfort from contact with the striped tomcat.

Melding into the shadow of the archway, I paused to listen for any sounds echoing down the other halls and into the center foyer. To my left, the portcullis and gate to the main courtyard were closed, but that wasn’t unusual. Only a breeze swirling through the empty halls and the bone-chilling cold of the castle greeted me.

I wasn’t convinced. It wasn’t just Ossian and me who had access to magic—the entire Brotherhood did. Any one of them could be cloaking themselves right now, and I had no desire to run into anyone except the friendly old badger of a housekeeper and cook. Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I debated whether or not to use the Scouting Spell and search for anyone nearby with magical sonar. But that was an active ping, revealing my location in the process if they were fast enough to catch the ping and return it. And they were.

Old-fashioned stealth it is, I decided.

No one discovered me sneaking down into the kitchen, not even the kind old badger. As the castle was built into the side of a hill, the lower level that housed the sprawling kitchen was insulated by ground and thus not as cold as the rest of the castle. My breath didn’t frost here.

The blue flames in the stone oven were sleeping, just licking over the coals, and wouldn’t rouse unless Mrs. Bilberry asked them to. They were spelled to obey her command to cook, otherwise they just slept. Without the badger to rouse the fire, there was no point in trying to cook or bake anything, so I rooted around for leftovers. Sawyer pushed his head free of the bag to help direct my search with the aid of his nose, especially since the kitchen had no refrigerator. The castle had a root cellar, but that was under lock and key. You ate at the prescribed times, or you didn’t eat at all.

And yet, the scent of freshly baked something infused the air, and there were juice stains on the prep table and vegetable scraps piled in the tub sink.

“Something smells so good,” Sawyer whined pitifully, whiskers twitching. “But where is it?”

“Mrs. Bilberry must’ve made something for the staff,” I muttered, rifling through the shelves of dry goods. “I think we might be in for tinned beans and yesterday’s bread.”

“Look for some tuna. I’ll go find a can opener.”

“No you will not. What if somebody sees you?”

“But—”

“Milady,” exclaimed an elderly voice by the stairwell.

I smooshed down on Sawyer’s head, stuffing him back into the foraging bag as I whipped around to find the badger dressed in her ruffled apron and holding an empty silver tray.

“Mrs. Bilberry,” I said, not knowing what else to say.

“Milady,” she began again, “what are you doing down here?”

The kitchen wasn’t necessarily off-limits, but it was her sanctuary, much like the east wing was mine. I respected that and never came down without asking her permission first, especially if I wanted to bake something.

“Uh, looking for a snack?” I answered.

The badger tsked and shook her head at me, padding the rest of the way down the stairs and into the kitchen proper. “I just brought it up to the atrium, milady. You know, where your friends are waiting for you?”

“What?” My friends were here? I wasn’t scheduled to see them today.

“They’ve been there half the morning, and I wasn’t about to see our guests go hungry! And, if I should be so bold to say, get those long legs of yours moving. It’s impolite to keep them waiting this long.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bilberry!” I said, hurrying past.

Her momentary agitation at me vanished and she just waved a black paw in farewell. “Enjoy yourself, milady.”