Page 38 of A Beastly Court

Over my shoulder, I watched the moonflower grove and its mirror slowly get swallowed up by the trees, then turned a frown down to the cat hunched in the foraging bag on the mare’s withers.

“You said this was a diamond ring,” I said, bringing my hand with the ring in question in front of his nose. “These are rubies.” Rubies that had lost their glow now that we were no longer near the mirror.

The little cat reassessed the ring and shook his head. “No, they’re not. They’re diamonds. They only look like rubies. Something changed them.”

My pulse fluttered as a lump lodged in my throat. Something? Or someone?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

As I hunched low over her neck, Daphne and I peered around the edge of the brick archway. It was part of the castle estate’s outer wall where the wards began, and the stone crows that perched at regularly spaced intervals along its top would screech the alarm if anyone unwelcome attempted to let themselves in. But apparently, not cats.

The stone crow, easily the size of an eagle, remained silent as we passed under the archway, but the honey badger on the other side did not.

“Coming home this close to sunset, are you out of your mind?” Flora shrilled. “The castle’s in an uproar and if I can smell your return, then you can bet a dozen other beasts—”

I practically threw myself from Daphne’s back, staggered on jelly-like legs for a moment, then smooshed my hand over the raging honey badger’s mouth. “If they haven’t smelled us yet, they’ll definitely hear you caterwauling and come over to investigate!”

Flora shook me off. “You don’t have time to shush me!” She rammed me in the back of the legs in a poor attempt to herd me forward. It only ended up buckling my knees, and I collapsed on the lawn. She snatched up the corner of my woolen gown and gave it a vicious yank. “You need to get back to the courtyard quick,” she said behind a mouthful of fabric. “Chop, chop!”

Daphne’s white ears pricked as we all became aware of faraway shouting and the sound of thundering feet. “What is going on here? It sounds like we’re under attack!”

Flora spat out my dress as I hauled myself upright. “I’ll explain on the way. Hurry!”

“My white coat will only draw attention,” Daphne said. She turned in the opposite direction. “I’ll provide what distraction I can. Go, dear!”

Hunched over and flicking the rest of my precious masking sand to hide my trail, I scrambled after Flora. The estate gardener, she knew all the best hiding places and led me without hesitation through this section of the grounds. We were plastered up against a boxwood topiary shaped like a rearing unicorn when she began, “Your fae just returned a few minutes before Alec and the rest of his idiots’ horses came back riderless and half-crazed. The whole castle’s in an uproar—they think it’s a hobgoblin attack.”

We darted to the topiary shaped like a winged panther. “He couldn’t make heads or tails of what the horses were saying, some rubbish about a swarm of silver hornets, and he’s in a beastly state.”

She fell silent as we dashed to the cedar colonnade then to the yew bushes opposite the fountain garden that abutted the rose courtyard. The honey badger lifted her nose to scent the wind before hustling to the fountain. I crouched behind the cold stone basin as we scanned the castle walls for any guards. While Ossian wasn’t in the habit of employing them, there was a first time for everything.

And there, just a short sprint away though the hydrangea hedges was the wall and the rope of woven willow branches, just where I’d left it.

“He sent them back out and was bolstering the wards, but he’ll be coming to find you any second now,” Flora finished in a whisper. “He bellowed something about this being a distraction to kidnap you or whatever.”

At her hiss, we scurried the rest of the way to the wall. I shoved the empty masking sand vial into my pocket, silently kicking myself for not refilling it from the stores in the farmhouse’s hearth room. I’d seen the myriad jars and bottles on the shelves as I’d come in from collecting firewood, but I’d been so focused on the embers that I hadn’t taken the time to explore.

Presently, I wrapped the willow rope around my arm and gripped it tight. Flora glanced this way and that to make sure the coast was clear. “Go, cider witch! I hear someone by the cedars.”

The honey badger dashed off to intercept whoever it was as I sent a magical request to the rope. The willow hauled me straight up, and I grunted as I landed ungracefully on the top of the wall. The young tree seemed to apologize for the graceless man-handling, and then we both shivered as a fist pounded against the door.

“Meadow!” came the fae king’s hail.

Thistle thorns! If he caught me up here, there was no telling what he would do.

I jumped, clinging to the willow’s trunk like a squirrel and sliding down to the ground. The lock was scraping open just as I whipped the white fur coat off the stacked potted plants and swirled it over my shoulders. A burst of green magic sent the terra-cotta pots to the ground, surprisingly not breaking them. I had only a second to wrap my arms around the willow tree like I was communing with nature when the door to the courtyard burst open.

“Meadow.” It was half shout, half snarl, and one-hundred-percent vicious.

And just like that, I broke.

It was too overwhelming—the sneaking off to the farmhouse, the victory I found there, then losing the embers, that strange writing in the ashes, the Brotherhood almost finding us, the sacrifice of the pixies, the strange mirror in the woods, the sneaking back into the castle, pinning Sawyer in the foraging bag between me and the willow so the fae king wouldn’t smell him, and whatever that had been in Ossian’s voice.

Tears flooded my eyes and sluiced down my cheeks as ugly, chest-wracking sobs tore through me.

“Love,” the fae king cried, startled. “Oh Meadow, I wasn’t— I didn’t meant to snap—”

I shuddered as his arms circled around me, trapping me in my embrace against the tree. His chest pressed against my back, the rhythm of his panting breath matching the tempo of my sobs, and his check rested against the top of my head.