Page 86 of The Filigree Key

Roland was right. The Stag Man would free me of our marriage via Shane’s spear. I should’ve known—his hatred for Violet and what his brother had done to him was too deep. I would never be free of him unless I fought for it.

“Thank you,” I said, forcing polite sincerity into my tone and eyes in the face of his lie.

“If you can behave until then,” he warned.

“We’re done with the move, my lord,” Alec announced then, clearing his throat.

Ossian beckoned him to continue. The Brotherhood brought forth the citizens who had been arrested at Patty’s Pub. An elderly egret pecked at the hand that pushed her forward, the black-footed ferret slunk along with a scowl, and the hog tripped over his trotters trying to avoid Alec’s riding crop. Axel and Bensen cast me a beseeching look, but Ms. Harris had nothing for me but prim contempt. The hussy on her beau du jour’s lap like a wanton strumpet.

“You’re free to go,” Ossian told them. His tone told them in no uncertain terms that they would hear no apology from him nor would he tolerate anything but their swift removal from his presence.

The Stag Man turned a mild expression at me when a little gasp of disbelief slipped past my lips. “What? Afraid I wouldn’t keep my word? These peasants are nothing and you were right about the town.”

“Thank you,” I murmured again.

He gave me a piercing side-eyed look but didn’t comment. No doubt he thought my gratitude was a scheme, just like his lies about divorce were. With the tumultuous emotions of the day, it made sense. In truth, I was finding a measure of relief of just being able to be me again, and that meant minding my p’s and q’s. When applicable, of course. I was still madder at him than a farmer with dull shears on sheep-shearing day.

“Alec, your assistance,” the fae king ordered, indicating the Brother should approach the throne. Then he turned to me. “Give him your bag.”

My foraging bag.

I had it wedged in my lap this whole time, so much a part of me I barely remembered it was there sometimes. Ossian had not.

My hand tightened on the strap.

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” He chuckled, stroking my cheek with the backs of his knuckles. I jerked away. Ossian seized my cheeks, yanking my face closer to his. “Give him your bag willingly, or I might become displeased. You are to behave, Meadow, remember? Or no divorce.”

In the distance framed by his antlers, I saw the copper smoke ring surrounding Faebane’s hilt condense against the handle.

Gritting my teeth, I made to remove the strap. Ossian released me, sensation flooding back into my face, and I handed the bag off to Alec. The Brother yanked it away and spared no time dumping its contents all over the trestle table. With no reverence for my possessions, he rooted and sorted and tossed everything into one pile or another.

“Where is it?” he shouted when everything was organized.

“Where’s what?” Ossian asked irritably.

“The black tourmaline!”

I threw the Brother a smug look. “After it plastered your sorry hide against the wall, it cracked. Why, did you want to go a second round? Are you so insecure, Alec, that you have to test your skills against a piece of rock?”

The magic hunter’s icy blue eyes grew cold, the Faerish script dancing along his skin as he channeled his power.

“Enough,” the Stag Man told us both, giving me a vicious pinch for good measure. “What is there, Alec?”

“A fair share of potion supplies, my lord,” he growled.

“Well you obviously can’t keep those,” the fae king said, back to rubbing his hand along my thigh. “Redistribute,” he told Alec.

From the crook in the grizzly bear’s arm, Sawyer raised his head. His amber eyes widened, and I gave him a look to zip it. Not that he could say anything, but he couldn’t let on that there was something suspicious about those potion ingredients. Namely that I’d stolen them from Ossian’s own stores. And that Brandi had helped me. I shuddered to think what more he’d do to her.

Alec brought up a handful of witchy bits and bobs to show the fae king. Ossian glided his other hand where it lazed against the small of my back up to my ribs in a clear warning that he would break them if I interfered.

“Here, my lord,” Alec said, throwing a sneer my way.

In his hands were my birch-bound journal and a few uncharged crystals and—

“That’s it?” Ossian sputtered. He straightened to peer over my head at the collection of crocheted gifts I’d amassed from Shari and the heap of vials with all my raw ingredients. Then he gave me an incredulous look.

“Yes?” I prompted calmly.