Page 20 of The Filigree Key

“Charlie was there,” Shari said, brightening. She quickly deflated, a tremor making her quills rattle. “Then he showed up.”

“That was a rollercoaster of an afternoon,” Daphne agreed. “You were upset, Meadow, but also happily engaged—I think—and I didn’t know what to feel.”

“All of these conflicting emotions is exactly why I want you to focus on the hut,” I said. “Or rather, what’s inside it.”

“A hoarder’s paradise?” Flora asked.

The porcupine hissed at the honey badger, quills flaring.

“Shari’s crafting supplies, those shelves full of snacks,” I listed, “that bottle of booze, us. In the life you don’t remember, you had—”

“Thursday Craft Night!” Shari blurted. Her smile was so wide, her chubby cheeks turned her dark eyes to slits. “We played games! Had cocktails, gossiped, worked on projects. Flora! You welded lawn ornaments.”

The honey badger preened. “I knew I was a badass.”

“And, Daphne, you made dreamcatchers to help me sleep better.”

“Of course I would, dear,” the mare said. “You’re important to me.”

“And soap out of goat milk!”

“Also sounds like something I would do if I had hands.”

Shari turned to me. “You . . . you made me Better Than Sex cake for my birthday!”

“Question,” Flora said, “did the cake live up to the hype?”

“I was told you ate two slices,” Sawyer piped up from my lap.

“Proof enough for me!”

In that moment, despite the somber atmosphere and the risk of discovery, the four of us dissolved into laughter. Purring, Sawyer leaned against my stomach and looked up at me. While I still held on to my friends’ paw and hoof, my laughter faded.

“What is it?” I whispered down to him.

He stood, bracing his front paws on my chest so he could look me in the eye. “You’d do anything for your friends, wouldn’t you? The Brotherhood could be coming down on us any second, and you’re taking the time to laugh with them.”

“Of course. And they need it.” Leaning forward, I nudged him with my nose. “Life has enough drudgery and fear in it already. It needs moments of laughter and joy to make it worth living.” Then I gave his ear a pretend chomp, giggling again. Oh my Green Mother, when was the last time I’d truly laughed?

“I have no memory of this,” Daphne whinnied, finally calm enough for words, “but I absolutely adore this notion of Crafts and Cocktail Night! If it is anything like this right now, then I’m all for it.”

“Me too,” Flora agreed. “Sounds like the perfect place for big appetites, bigger dreams, and plotting the demise of the ruling regime.”

Then the honey badger yelped, and Shari gave me a smug look. “I pinched her for you.”

“Alright, everybody,” I said, sobering. “Hold on to this feeling. Feel the touch of your friends holding your hands. And—”

My magic bloomed, a golden-green light lifting from the oak tree’s leaves. It emanated from my heart this time, rushing across my chest and down my arms and circling again and again where I held Shari’s paw and Daphne’s hoof. A third tendril wound around Sawyer in my lap, an unseen power smoothing down his fur like a petting hand. My friends watched in awe as my magic touched their hearts and sprang towards Flora. She jerked, surprised, then grinned.

I felt the moment the circle was complete and how it grew as it took my friends’ happiness and excitement and determination and compounded it again and again until the magic connecting us raced and spun like the winds of a dervish.

It took only a thought, and the magic of the oak tree that had filled me to the brim thundered into them. Whereas Ossian had kept me sedated with illusions, his glamour, Caer power, and toirchim tonic, there were fewer, and weaker, hooks in my friends. With our combined focus, and my new raw power, it only took a second to free them.

Shari screamed, shucking our hands and hugging her prickly arms around herself.

“Shari!” I exclaimed, wanting to console the porcupine but unable to figure out where to touch her without impaling myself.

Sawyer immediately jumped from my lap into hers, and her paws instinctively combed through his fur, imagining it was Ame’s. The porcupine calmed, blubbering, “It’s a lot . . . at one time.”