Page 83 of The Filigree Key

“Here!” the little cat cried.

A considerable boost of magic flooded into the working of my spell from my familiar. My feet flew over the forested hills, then the street, the fields, through town, over the bridge, and finally into the great hall.

The double doors had already been thrown wide, and Ossian stood with Faebane unsheathed and poised just above the trough of flesh between the grizzly bear’s shoulder blades. The Stag Man’s chest heaved; sweat dappled his brow. He gave me a wild look of disbelief that I had caught up so quickly to him.

Not quickly enough.

Eight Brothers restrained the bear with their magic, flattening him against the ground even as he fought to rise. The bear growled, clawing at the floor beneath him and sending sparks skipping across the stones. There was no sign of Auggie, no smear of shell upon the floor or oozing out of the Stag Man’s grip.

“Not another step,” Ossian bellowed. “Or his beating heart will saw itself apart upon my blade!”

“Stop, Ossian,” I pleaded. “Why are you doing this? You already have the tree and you’re getting the key, the portal—”

“Because I want everything!” He swept his hand towards his stag legs. “Because I have been tortured long enough and I will have satisfaction. And you, Violet’s Daughter, will give it to me.”

With a guttural cry, he rammed the tip of his rapier into the Bear Prince.

“Arthur!”

The grizzly roared, flinging his head back and heaving upright. The Brothers tightened their bindings, the ivy-like vines blazing bluish-green from the tension. Ossian abandoned the blade, leaving it quivering in the bear’s flesh, and marched over to us.

I dropped the tomcat. Sawyer took up his spot between my ankles, back arched, fur fluffed, and spitting. Magic pricked at my fingertips, ready to bloom into whatever it needed to be to knock my enemy on his ass.

“That blade will sink in another inch, followed by another, and another every time you displease me, Meadow,” the Stag Man warned, “and I won’t need to be present to do it.”

Copper magic wreathed Faebane’s hilt like a smoke ring, waiting to seize the handle and plunge down.

Ossian snatched my cheeks in a vise-like pinch. “He will be guarded day and night and so will you. You will not go near him. And you will obey me, understand?”

I kept my ivy-green eyes locked on his so he would understand exactly what I would do to him if that rapier harmed another cell in my lumbersnack’s body.

“You will finish charging the key, we will be wed, and your magic signature will hide mine from Callan’s spell,” he hissed. His fingernails dug into my skin as a sneer ruined the set of his lovely mouth. “And, as you have insisted, I will not be gentle.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

After I charged the water diamond of the filigree key, I spent the next miserable hours of the afternoon forced to sit across the Stag Man’s lap as he sprawled on his throne. And endured the stroking of his hand up and down my thigh. Now that all our pretenses had dropped, he didn’t bother with his glamour.

Or clothes.

The stag hair of his legs pricked me in the backs of mine, and I could smell the musk emanating from his skin. Pointy ears poked out of his copper curls and even pointier antlers—two tines chipped—protruded another two feet into the air. Everything about him was bigger from his sheer size to the threat he posed.

And he didn’t want me to forget it, either. He wouldn’t tolerate me holding on to the stag bust of the headrest to maintain my balance—I had to use his shoulder. With my sleeve pulled down to cover my iron cuff to protect his skin, of course.

To further my humiliation, he forced me to sit facing the grizzly so the bear could have an unencumbered view of his enemy caressing and nuzzling his true mate. After only a few minutes, the bear had stopped growling and dropped his head onto his paws to look out the windows instead. Faebane twitched with the movement, eliciting a pained grunt. I watched until the rapier stopped trembling, then did the same, jaw clenched and back ramrod straight.

Ossian simply chuckled and played with the stolen fated mate bond, tangling my emotions. My head and heart told me I was Arthur’s, that only he could fix that hollow hole in my heart, but my body . . . I focused on my bond with Sawyer instead.

It felt like a second heart, except instead of beating, it radiated. It was a cozy, contented sensation, like the feel of slipping into a bed with sheets still warm from the dryer. I could sense his emotions, hear his thoughts when he projected them, and, more than anything else, experience the confident peace of having my best and truest friend standing with me through thick and thin.

The tabby tomcat, now protected under the fae bargain, was by no means allowed to roam free. He was confined to a converted bird cage whose wires had been coated in silver leaf and imbued with so many wards it was visibly vibrating with magic.

“This sucks,” my familiar said without preamble. He sat at attention, tail swept around his body and hiding his (now normal-sized) paws. “It’s so cramped in here I can’t even lay down.”

While the wards didn’t hurt him, they were supremely uncomfortable to get near from their sheer quantity. It nauseated the stomach and inflicted a terrible case of the heebie-jeebies, or so he told me.

“At least you don’t have Alec fondling your lingerie,” I groused, though this really wasn’t a competition.

The Brotherhood was emptying out my room in the east wing and moving it all into Ossian’s bedchamber. They paraded every item I owned through the great hall from my silk underwear to the dresses Shari had sewn for me. Alec and Carissa seemed to be taking particular delight in manhandling my possessions.