Page 91 of The Filigree Key

The Stag Man had taken up wearing clothes again, or at least buckskin trousers, and Sawyer’s claws pinched the thick hide. The tabby tomcat’s amber eyes were like twin full moons, his body rigid as a corpse’s, and he flinched every time the fae king’s large hand swept from his head down his back in long lazy strokes.

What Brothers weren’t guarding the portal, the elm tree, or the bridge were stationed on either side of the dais, fanned out like the wings of a blackbird in flight. Alec was conspicuously absent, and I wondered if my giving him the slip the morning had finally convinced Ossian he was more of a liability than an asset.

The dapple gray, sensing my tension, stopped short. I slid from his back and kept my heartbeat steady even as I wanted to panic. At least Faebane hadn’t plunged any deeper into the grizzly’s back.

The Stag Man had not replaced his glamour, hooves and antlers and stag legs on full display. The golden aura emanating from his skin was in full effect, however, which explained why the townsfolk only murmured at his appearance, none finding it truly alarming. He was alluring, mysterious, and powerful, and that trifecta erased many a misgiving.

“Congratulations, love,” the Stag Man said congenially. The pleasantness didn’t reach his eyes—they were cold and piercing as icicles.

“Thank you.” My reply was clipped, stiff. Ossian couldn’t hurt Sawyer directly, but he’d already proven himself a master of nuance and loopholes. My pulse thrummed. I wanted my cat in my arms, to check him over for injury.

Swallowing thickly, I gave Ossian a small shake of my head.

The twitch of his upper lip spoke just as clearly as if he’d said the words aloud: Imagine my surprise waking to find my mate missing from my bed. Had to find this little one to explain your whereabouts.

“Jehosaphat!” Cody cried. “Is that a cat?”

“Indeed, beaver,” came the fae king’s cool reply. “Wystan’s spy, nearly as dangerous as that hobgoblin. But Lady Meadow has brought them both before me, so fear not.”

“I’m not afraid,” the beaver retorted. “Not with milady around. She delivers when she promises to keep us safe.”

“Cody,” I hissed.

Emmett snatched his best friend’s arm and tried to pull him back into the safety of the crowd.

“Leave off! I’ll speak my piece.” The beaver stomped forward. “Anyone else find it strange that it was only after you, Cernunnos, came to power that these attacks started happening?”

“Are you accusing me of being in league with the hobgoblin, beaver?”

The answer was, of course, yes, but the accusation suddenly sounded very foolish. A shepherd did not go into the lion’s den and accuse the lion of eating his sheep without a spear in his hand. And Cody had no spear—no true evidence.

The great hall went silent, every breath held. Whatever safety and bravado the townsfolk had assumed from the size of the crowd suddenly looked insufficient against the calm, controlled fae king and the Brothers who flanked this throne.

“Well, someone is,” Cody answered petulantly.

“Lady Meadow has done this town a wonderful service,” the fae king told the crowd, “but it is not without consequence. Wystan might be apprehended, but as this beaver has pointed out, he could not have orchestrated all these attacks by himself.”

Ossian shook his head. “By apprehending him, all she has done is created a power vacuum that one of his associates will fill. Why do you think it has taken me weeks to put these attacks to an end? Because I wanted the whole organization, not just its leader. I wanted Redbud to be truly safe, not just safe for a night.”

My hands balled into fists at my sides. Of course this silver-tongued King of Beasts, master of illusions and lies, would simultaneously deflect any guilt away from him and twist my victory. There were no associates other than his own Brotherhood.

“And now, I fear retaliation,” he said, adding the perfect amount of sadness to his voice. “Especially upon her friends.” He lifted his hand and snapped his fingers.

The crowd cried out as the Brothers surged forward. Two yanked Wystan down from the saplings and two wrested Cody and Emmett from the crowd.

“Watch the tail,” the beaver snapped.

“And mind my satchel,” the raccoon scolded. “This leather was tooled by my grandfather!”

The side door to the great hall opened then, another contingent of Brothers herding forward Flora, Daphne, and Shari.

Thistle thorns. Guess the Stag Man had had a busy day too.

None of them bore any sign of injury or harassment other than the incredulity of being plucked from their daily routines. Hope kindled in my friends’ expressions, but the Brothers prevented them from rushing to me. Except Flora. She squirmed free and raced over, wailing in a garbled voice, “They destroyed half my plant nursery!”

“Which wouldn’t have been necessary if you’d just come along peacefully,” a Brother barked.

Something was off in her expression—it was her wide eyes and waggling eyebrows. Compelled to kneel, I lowered to the floor and opened my arms to consol the honey badger. She reared up on her hind legs to accept my embrace, then spat down the front of my dress.