Page 11 of A Beastly Court

I’d only eaten half of my scrambled eggs when the bear came awake, possibly roused by the scent of the food. He managed only one growl before Ossian waved his hand and a copper-colored sphere enveloped the beast so the only one he would deafen with his bellowing was himself.

I shifted uncomfortably in my cushioned seat, my appetite dwindling. “I still don’t understand why he has to be here. You know, in the great hall?”

Ossian set his beer down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Do you know of another room big enough to hold him?”

No, but then I hadn’t explored the entirety of the castle either. There was only one door I hadn’t opened yet, a big black door at the end of a narrow stone hall that only Ossian had the key to. I knew it led to a lower floor, and just as instinct told me never to remove that Celtic shield from my neck nor leave my foraging bag unattended, it told me that the subterranean level was not just a simple basement housing the furnace and boxes of yuletide decorations. Nor did it only house Ossian’s silversmith workshop.

Sometimes, late at night, I thought I could hear voices emanating from behind that door, and silver definitely couldn’t talk. And Ossian had sworn to me there were no dungeons on the premises, for what if one of Wystan’s accomplices got loose and tried to kidnap me? No, those criminals were kept confined in an old barn, now fortified, outside of town for the Brotherhood to interrogate as they saw fit.

Part of me itched to filch a bottle of Riesling from Mrs. Bilberry’s pantry and ask Emmett Trinket for an antique lockpick set and go exploring what lay beyond that black door, but the other and bigger part of me knew I didn’t have the time. My curiosity wouldn’t help me break the curse Grandmother had put on my magic.

“Why not chain him outside in the courtyard then?” I asked. “His fur’s thick enough to endure the weather.”

Ossian gave me a bemused look and leaned forward to cover my hand with his. “He nearly killed you and you’re thinking about how his fur will protect him from the elements? You’re too kind, love.” He shifted back in his seat and proceeded to rip apart his second game hen with efficient, practiced movements that seemed almost callous. “And stake him outside the wards of the castle? So he can chew off part of himself and escape? I don’t think so.”

“Then why keep him at all?”

“Because he’s our enemy.” His eyebrows lifted in genuine surprise. “He stays here until our work is done. Then, when he knows he has truly failed, I will kill him.”

I flinched at the cruelty of his words, and behind the copper barrier, the grizzly bear roared.

The fae king wasn’t even the least perturbed. He jerked his chin at my half-eaten breakfast. “Finish up, love. And drink your tonic. Need you fresh for the day.”

“That’s not going to happen,” I grumbled, stabbing at my bacon. “There’s mice in my walls or something. They’ve been keeping me up for days now.”

“Days?”

I choked on my bacon, startled by his anger, and groped for the tonic to force the bite down. Wincing, I forced myself to drain the foul concoction and just get it over with. The fizzy red liquid that was supposed to taste like fruit punch but was always too sour in my opinion.

“So you’ve been coming to our training sessions already prepared to fail from lack of sleep?”

“It’s not like that! I put everything into unlocking this stupid curse Grandmother put on my magic. How dare—”

“Meadow, we have limited time,” he said, the melody of his voice replaced by granite. “We cannot have you sleep-deprived or malnourished or unhappy. It’s why, despite the waste of time, I’ve allowed you in the kitchen to bake your little breads and sweets and to have regular visits with your friends. You earn those distractions, though, by putting one-hundred-percent of your focus into your training. There are consequences to breaking a fae bargain! And it’s not just your life that’s at stake if you fail, but mine too.”

His anger was gone, replaced by helpless desperation. It wasn’t his literal life on the line, of course, but his heart as my fated mate. He’d told me the heartache would be excruciating, that he would wish he was dead. How could he continue living without me in his life? Was I so selfish to think only of myself?

“Ossian, I—”

“Alec will take care of your vermin problem when he returns,” he said firmly.

“No!” I didn’t want that man anywhere near the east wing, let alone my bedroom. And Ossian still hadn’t questioned him about that fiasco with the bear. “What’s a man going to do anyway? If they’re mice, send a cat after them.”

“A cat?” The veins in his forearms stood out in sharp relief under his skin like mole tunnels across a grassy yard as his hands balled into fists against the table. “I have only a handful of rules in my court, Meadow, and the top one is absolutely. No. Cats.”

Like the off-limits black door at the end of the hall, this rule had never been explained to me. It’d just been something I’d been expected to accept.

“You’re the king, tell them to stop,” I said.

He gave me a sour look. “Mice have pitiful memories and I’m not around to constantly remind them. I am defending a court from monsters, after all, as well as trying to find a summoning ground.”

“Then another predator,” I said. “Flora, maybe. Honey badgers eat anything.”

Ossian didn’t seem to like that idea very much and countered with, “I’ll bring you an owl tonight.”

I would’ve preferred an animal I knew over one I didn’t, but at least he wasn’t so determined to volunteer Alec as pest control anymore. “Thank you.”

He nodded, the matter settled. Then, as he did every morning after I’d drunk my tonic and breakfast was coming to an end, he produced a crystal from one of the pouches on his belt and slid it over to me.