Page 88 of The Filigree Key

He bared his teeth at me with an exasperated sigh.

“I thought we were trying to limit the animosity between us?” You know, before you stab me in the back?

With an exasperated huff, the fae king resumed his stride to the double doors. “As she says,” he barked at the Brotherhood, and the doors slammed shut behind him.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

When I’d been a carefree young adult in Hawthorne Manor, I’d slept like the dead. Since coming to Redbud, I’d slept lightly, rousing at a strong gust of wind through the southern maple or the old floorboards popping and groaning. Last night, however, I’d barely slept at all.

Nothing like a faelight Brother sitting in the chair opposite the bed staring at you to make it difficult to drift off, even with your cat snuggled under your chin. Nothing like the Stag Man returning after midnight more male than stag and spooning you with his heavy arm imprisoning you against his side to make the process more impossible than before.

His breath stirred the hair by my ear in a steady rhythm as I watched the sky in the eastern windows lighten from navy to the pale blue smudge that heralds a new day. I would be mastering air today, but not before I’d settled the score with Ossian.

Gently so as not to rouse the sleeping fae king, I slipped out from under his arm and got dressed. And with no Shane in sight, it was quickly done.

He’d led me to believe he’d captured Wystan yesterday, but it had been Sawyer all along. He’d gained access to the elm tree under false pretenses, and since I’d been forbidden from returning to it—two Brothers were stationed there, ready to hail him with whatever magical means they employed if I came anywhere near it—I could not rectify that wrong. I could, however, hunt down that hobgoblin myself.

It was probably the last act of defiance I could get in before he restricted me to the castle grounds like Sawyer. It would also prove to the townsfolk that it was Meadow Hawthorne, and not Cernunnos, who kept her word and delivered them from the very creature that had plagued their days and tormented their dreams at night. And it would be another thorn in the Brotherhood’s side, which was just fine with me.

I hoped it all would count enough when it was time for Redbud to rise and defend itself.

Sawyer padded on silent feet beside me as I left the room. I watched the Stag Man through the ever-shrinking crack as I shut the door—he never once stirred.

Liar.

He had to be aware that I’d “snuck” out of bed. Ossian was just feigning sleep in the hopes of catching me later doing something naughty and giving him every excuse to execute the bear.

Fat. Chance.

Bending down, I scooped Sawyer into my arms as I slipped past the Brothers on duty—still no Shane—and made my way to the stables. We might not be able to communicate telepathically or verbally anymore, but he still had ears and the ability to read my lips. And he could still pinch my skin with his claws once for yes and twice for no.

“Did you see a snail on the bear’s collar yesterday?”

Sawyer gave a frustrated wiggle and angled himself so he could bite my arm.

“Thistle thorns, not so hard! I’m taking that as you want me to rephrase the question?”

One pinch.

I chewed the corner of my bottom lip. “Did you sense a snail?”

Sawyer batted repeatedly on his ears. He’d heard it.

My heart leapt. “Was it chewing?”

One pinch.

Thank the Green Mother for that. “Good. If you see anyone start to get suspicious about his collar, you cause a distraction, got it?”

One pinch.

“Okay, I’m going to leave—”

Two pinch. Two pinch. TWO PINCH.

“Gah!” I thrust the cat away from me, holding him under his armpits. Ears flattened against his skull, Sawyer told me with a vicious hiss exactly what he thought about that.

“I’m going to get that hobgoblin once and for all,” I hissed back at him. “And you’re going to make yourself scarce while I do it. And tell the hobs and any of the other castle staff on our side what I’m up to so they can spread the word.”