Page 101 of The Filigree Key

And Daphne . . .. The white Arabian mare had no appetite for the bowl of oatmeal and apple slices set before her. Only her ears twitched, noting the various flute-like trills and warbles of the pixies. She stood as if in a trance, flanks quivering.

She’d smelled Lewellyn.

But since I was on a stool in the middle of the great hall wearing my wedding dress and trying not to move as Shari made her adjustments, I couldn’t easily converse with her and assuage her fears. She wasn’t even supposed to remember him, after all. Sawyer sat by her untouched bowl, purring and trying to entice her to eat even as he gobbled down enough scrambled eggs to make his belly pop. He feared for Lewellyn too.

“Well?” the Stag Man demanded.

Alec was the only Brother in attendance, standing at attention with his back to the bay windows. The Brotherhood had suffered more than the two losses Lewellyn had inflicted upon them, and the rest were out hunting and seeking revenge. Shane was away “recharging,” whatever that meant, and I shuddered to speculate.

At Ossian’s prompt Alec squared his shoulders and answered, “We discovered a ring of toadstools by the northern border, my lord.”

“Ame,” the fae king snarled.

“A half circle, really,” Alec continued as if he hadn’t heard, “but when activated, it—”

“And your Brothers, who are supposed to be riding patrol every day,” Ossian interrupted, “how did they miss it?”

“You have us guarding the portal, the tree, the bear, the girl, and the castle, not to mention patrolling the town. We’re spread thin and losing more Faerish scripts by the day. And you killed the man who was scheduled to scout. Graham. Remember him? Oh, and during the raid the witches in the farmhouse escaped, by the way.”

If I’d been sipping on my morning latte, I would’ve spewed it halfway across the great hall at the sound of the magic hunter’s snark. Then with excitement.

My family was free!

Well, most of them. As far as I knew, my grandmother was still confined in her luxurious cell in the dungeon, but hopefully Lewellyn would be able to take care of that.

But where were the Hawthorne witches? Had they escaped before Ossian had strengthened the shield, or had they lingered in hopes of helping me? I could certainly use the Circle of Nine’s help when I returned from Elfame.

The Stag Man, who had been pacing in front of his dais, stomped to a halt and threw me a glare. I must’ve gasped at Alec’s news, but his ire did not remain fixed on me for long. Between one blink and the next, the fae king shot across the great hall and slammed Alec into the windows. The glass cracked from the impact and continued to fracture as the Stag Man shoved his second-in-command harder into the window. By his neck, as history dictated and fate delivered.

“Oh,” Cody groaned, tossing his fork down and throwing up his paws. “And I was enjoying that view. Nothing like staring out a pane of shattered glass to give you a headache first thing in the morning.”

Flora snickered.

“Perhaps I was wrong to put so much faith in you and your little band of brothers,” Ossian hissed at his second-in-command. “If you cannot perform the simplest of tasks, perhaps you are not ready for the responsibility I intended to leave you.”

The Stag Man flung his fingers wide, letting gravity reclaim the magic hunter. Shards of glass from the broken window followed him to the floor.

“Oh great, and now we’ve got a draft,” Cody muttered.

Alec braced himself on his hand and knees, coughing as he fought to regain his breath.

The Stag Man turned away to return to his throne. “Lucky for you, new events have dictated I give you one last chance. Those insurgents aren’t going anywhere, not with that fortified shield.” Ossian climbed the steps of the dais and sat down on the plump green cushion of his throne. “Hunt them down.”

“Redbud’s over twelve square miles,” he protested. “This is not a fish-in-a-barrel situation. Why must my Brothers die needlessly? Summon the mallaithe. Release the sluagh!”

“The mallaithe are not old enough to face Coalition enforcers; they haven’t mutated yet. And—” Out of impulse alone, Ossian cast me a foul look.

“He can’t,” I gloated.

The fae king lunged.

Shari screamed, tossing her pins in the air like silver bits of confetti before scuttling under the trestle table. The fae king stood inches away from me, still towering despite the extra foot I gained from the step stool.

“Don’t test me, Meadow Ní Violet.” He raised his hand as if to strike me, but his fingers just bunched into a fist.

The grizzly bear howled in pain as Faebane sank another inch into his flesh.

“Arthur!”