Page 28 of A Beastly Court

“Something wrong with your magic?” I countered, not confrontationally. “I need mine to lift the curse, remember? And I’ve already charged one crystal for you today.”

Anger flickered across his eyes at my defiance, but the emotion cleared so quickly I wasn’t even sure I’d seen it. “I’m asking you, love,” he answered patiently, though his voice was strained, “to do so because your magic will guide me to whatever spot is most attuned to you. To ‘hedge our bets,’ as you mortals are so fond of saying, in case you’re not successful in unlocking the entirety of your curse in time. We will be forced to try, whether you’re ready or not.”

I bristled at the insinuation and snatched up the silver orb. Lifting it to eye level, I peered through the myriad holes at the dormant crystal inside. On a thought, I lowered my hand to my lap to touch Sawyer’s face. What if…

Magic jumped to my call. I wasn’t slogging through the weariness I should be feeling—Sawyer was bleeding it all away. Pursing my lips to hide my smile, I sent my power into the crystal easily. Despite being a dark purple, the crystal flashed golden-green for an instant before dimming to a faint, but persistent, violet glow.

“Thank you.” Ossian plucked the orb from my hand and secured it away in his pouch. He hadn’t noticed the relative ease at which I had charged the amethyst and I didn’t know whether or not to be insulted.

“Are you done eating?” he asked. “I have to lock you away in that courtyard like a princess in a tower now.” He laughed softly at his own joke, but I didn’t.

“So where are you exploring today?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could. Wolfing down the last of my breakfast kept my fingers from trembling with a mixture of excited and nervous anticipation. First, because of those two discoveries I’d made about Sawyer. Second, depending on where he was roaming, that was going to put a kibosh on my fieldtrip.

“These southern fields here have my particular attention at the moment. But I’ll also let the orb guide me.” I wasn’t yet finished when he stood and held out his hand, demanding I join him. It was a little too much “I’m the king and you have to do what I say” than I would have liked, but it gave me the excuse I needed to take the half-eaten game hen with me.

Then it was off to lock me in the courtyard for the day.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

After the copper glow disappeared from the courtyard keyhole and I no longer heard retreating footsteps, I yanked open my foraging bag and demanded, “How screwed are we?” There would be time to celebrate my little discoveries later.

Sawyer wiggled free and seized the remains of the game hen from my hand, pinning it down on the stone bench with his front paws and tearing off a huge mouthful. It was only with his back arched in the full light of the autumn morning that I realized how skinny he was. He hadn’t mentioned the trials he and Ame had faced getting to the castle, much less infiltrating it, but clearly he’d endured one or more empty-belly nights.

After a few bites so large they could’ve choked out a ravenous wolverine, let alone a scrawny young tomcat, I yanked away the game hen.

The tomcat turned momentarily feral, swiping with his claws after the food. “Hey!”

“You’ll get it back it a second,” I told him, dangling it high in the air and out of reach. “I don’t want your belly to pop! Now, how screwed are we?”

Sawyer busied himself licking the grease from his whiskers as he though. “He said ‘the southern fields.’ What did that look like on the map? South is relative, you know. I’ll take that hen back while you draw.”

My eyes narrowed at his cheekiness, but I gave him the hen so I could dig around in my foraging bag. Sawyer pinned it once more to the bench like it could still fly off and made happy little rawr-rawr-rawr sounds as he gnawed away.

Sitting down beside him, I pulled the paper-birch-bound notebook from my bag and settled it on my knees. While instinct had told me never to let this bag out of my sight, I’d never been overly curious as to what was inside it, unless in times of great need. I realized now that that was odd and wondered if Grandmother’s curse persuaded me never to delve deeper, or maybe she had hexed my bag? I’d just have to make it a point to root around in it more often and hope that would wear down whatever jinx plagued it.

The maelstrom locking away my memories from before Ossian darkened as I opened the notebook with new curiosity. This was my handwriting inside—not surprising—but I didn’t remember making these observations.

Apparently I’d started a turf war with Midwestern pixies?

And healed my core with a hallucinogenic moonflower-milk bath?

There were dozens of more entries, each more fascinating or startling than the last.

My fingers shook as I rapidly flipped page after page, my eyes no longer distinguishing letter from sketch. Grandmother’s curse had taken so much from me. She had taken so much. First she’d suppressed my growth as a green witch, then she’d cursed me to never do magic ever again. But I’d changed in Redbud, become my own person, and while the curse might’ve worked on the old Meadow Hawthorne, it hadn’t worked on me. Not completely. I was unlocking more of my restraints every day, remembering. Becoming. Especially now that Sawyer was here.

Let your success be the laughter in the faces of those who thought you’d fail, I told myself, snatching up a charcoal willow wand from the bag and smoothing down a fresh page in the notebook. I quickly sketched a less-detailed version of Ossian’s map and showed it to Sawyer, who had finally come up for air.

“These are the southern fields,” I said, pointing.

The tomcat gave a sharp nod. “We should be clear. We’re going right here.” He touched a spot on the map about four or five miles east of the castle and left behind a greasy smudge. “Oops. Sorry.”

“Are you sure? Ossian’s map didn’t show anything out there except a strip of forest and an old cornfield.”

“I’m sure.”

I bit down on my lower lip as I thought. “That’s a long way. And Wystan’s attacks have all been reported in this area.” I traced a crescent of land between the castle and where Sawyer claimed the farmhouse was.

Sawyer blinked large amber eyes up at me. “I can only show you the way, Meadow. You have to choose whether or not to follow it. To trust me. And I trust Ame. She says you need to get the ember to the farmhouse, that time is running out.”