Page 45 of A Beastly Court

“You’d never lose to that beast,” Alec protested forcefully, though there was still a tremor to his voice. “You are Cernunnos, the true—”

“Do not flatter me.” The fae king straightened with a look of disgust. “I have to feed at least once a day to amass the magic needed to keep him contained and in his bear form. The longer he stays shifted, the more the bear consumes the man. And that man is very dangerous, something you’ve quite forgotten. You’ve let your inflated self-importance and confidence in my power blind you. I’m disappointed in you, Alec.”

The man, who I had always found so intimidating and loathsome, sniveled at Ossian’s feet, grasping for his trouser leg, his bare foot, anything he could get his hand on. “My lord, no. No.”

Ossian kicked his hand away. “If she ever discovers who that bear truly is, it will the undoing of us all. And I am going home, Alec. I will not fail in this. The Court of Beasts—Elfame—is mine, and she is the key to delivering it. She is everything, do you understand that? You get nothing if she fails, so you will behave. Am I quite clear?”

Alec nodded furiously. “I do, my lord. I do. Thank you, my lord. Thank—”

“Shut up.” Ossian hoisted Alec to his feet, the man crying out in pain as his leg buckled under him. A moment later, copper sparks leapt from the fae king’s fingers and Alec’s whimpering ceased. His leg straightened under him, again able to withstand his weight, and he blinked away the tears he hadn’t shed. Swallowing, the man nodded his gratitude.

Ossian wiped his hands free of the dust he’d touched on Alec’s clothes and began to pace. “I need more feeders, Alec. That rabble you and Wystan brought in isn’t going to cut it, and I can’t feed off the matriarch daily, not anymore. The hedge witch, too, I can’t weaken her.”

My fingers where they clamped over my mouth to muffle my breathing dug into my cheeks in alarm. Oh my Green Mother, Wystan was Ossian’s supplier. His literal magic hunter.

“And the witches at the farmhouse are weak from being away from their home hearth too long,” Alec thought aloud. “That incident today was just their last-ditch effort to get the hearth to obey them—it didn’t work.”

Farmhouse? Home hearth?

He can’t be talking about the Hawthornes… can he? My family had come here, away from their home hearth… to a farmhouse I had apparently stayed at for quite some time… to collect the grimoire. But they’d all gone back to Hawthorne Manor, hadn’t they? It was December now, so they were baking cookies and hanging the greenery and preparing for our annual Yuletide Gala. W-weren’t they?

The maelstrom blocking the rest of my memories swirled as I fought to remember. Oh my Green Mother, say it’s not them. It can’t be them! But I’d never heard anyone else but Grandmother be referred to as matriarch, either.

Though surely I would have seen something strange there this aftern—

The writing! Primal W— That’s all the invisible hand had written in the ashes. No “Danger, Meadow Hawthorne, danger,” or any such thing. But how could I have been in the same farmhouse as them and never seen them?

Alec finished rubbing on his chin’s two-day stubble as he came to a conclusion. “We’ll have to take from the court.”

Ossian tsked. “They’ll be missed.”

“I wouldn’t miss that honey badger,” his second snorted.

The fae king actually laughed, a harsh bark of a noise. “No, certainly not that one. But Meadow would, and that would only compromise the illusion. Gods, it’s becoming more fragile by the day as she becomes stronger. The tonic and the Caer powder, not to mention the rubies, they’re all losing their effectiveness. I think she’s becoming resistant.”

Ossian’s shoulders squared, and he ceased his pacing. “What news of Drake? Reinforcements would be untimely and put an even larger strain on my magic.”

Revulsion coursed through me. Drake was one of Alec’s Brothers, a big burly blond-haired brute… who I hadn’t seen around the castle in a while. Thistle thorns, where was he? I searched my memory for a snatch of conversation, an overheard snippet of gossip, and found nothing. I’d made it a point to avoid the Brotherhood as much as possible, and now I was kicking myself for not being nosy.

Alec shook his head, smirking. “He’s bored with his babysitting assignment. Leaderless, they’re all cowering like rabbits in their warren when a fox is near. Ripe for the draining, if he can get one of them alone.”

“You know I cannot give my permission,” Ossian said sharply. Then his tone softened. “Though, when has that stopped mortals from doing whatever they want? And technically your Brothers report to you, not me.”

Alec’s smirk transformed into a sickle-like grin.

“And the Brothers you sent after that wolf shifter?”

Wolf shifter? Could it be the one from Sawyer and my memories, the one with the golden-white fur? Our… friend?

The grin vanished from his second’s face. “They haven’t caught him yet. But it’s only a matter of time.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Alec,” the fae king snapped. After a breath, he waved his hand, returning to his primary concern. “Take who you must from the court, but not anyone she has regular interactions with. The raccoon and the beaver, perhaps, and that raccoon’s elusive brownie, if you can snatch him. They are not Fair Folk, but their life essences should be sufficient enough. For the next few days, anyway. Perhaps one or two of the hobs as well, but not the one who brings in the apple butter. She’s too fond of that one.”

“The hobs, my lord?”

“The woodchucks, Alec.”

Kind old Emmett and cantankerous but heart-of-gold Cody? Dale, Roland, Ricky, Joe, Walt, or any of the twelve? To become feeders in a dungeon that wasn’t supposed to exist? I don’t think so.