Page 111 of The Filigree Key

“With my fire magic, of course.”

Carissa moaned suddenly, arms banding around her stomach. Another magic hunter belched loudly, immediately doubling over in her seat.

“What a bunch of wussies,” Flora snorted.

“It’s not that bad,” Ossian snarled at his magic hunters. “Straighten up.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth than an explosion on the bridge rattled the windowpanes and shook the very foundation of the castle.

There’s your sign, Lewellyn.

The Stag Man stared at the cloud of fire and black smoke billowing into the sky in true bewilderment for only a moment before he erupted from his seat. Before he could utter a single word, let alone berate the Brotherhood for what had to be their fault, a magic hunter farted with such force he actually jerked sideways in his seat. Then he fixed us with a horrified look before clutching at his trousers. A fifth actually fell out of her chair and curled up into the fetal position on the floor.

“What has gotten into you all?” Ossian demanded, his attention torn between the scene on the bridge and this catastrophe before him.

As if to answer him, there was a loud click in the far corner. The sound of a hollow shell clattering against stone.

A garden snail with a shell the size of a walnut burped, twitched its tentacles, and slunk away, leaving a trail of slime in its wake.

“What the . . .?”

There was a second click, followed by a third, then a symphony as the chain shackling the bear slithered off the floor. The grizzly rose onto its rear paws, an amber light kindling and catching fire in his eyes.

Before the Stag Man could react, the Bear Prince shifted.

“Boy?” Cody whispered.

Hair and beard shaggy and overgrown, and himself entirely naked, Arthur Greenwood yanked the now oversized collar off his neck and warped it in half with a mere clench of his hands. The heretic’s fork, completely devoid of those glowing runes, was nothing more than simple antler. Brittle, it shattered as the collar clattered to the stone floor beside Arthur’s bare feet.

“You’re not free yet,” Ossian snarled.

Just as the copper smoke ring condensed around the hilt, Arthur threw a hand behind his back and grabbed the rapier. Jaw clenched and blood oozing out between the seams in his fingers, the bear shifter struggled to keep the blade from stabbing into his heart. From the way he shook, it wasn’t a battle he was going to win.

With an agonized grunt, he gave it one brutal yank.

It wasn’t enough.

Blood spurted from Arthur’s mouth as Faebane tore through his body, impaling itself in the seam between two stones in the floor and sheathing itself up to its hilt. The silver cross guard and handle and every crystal embedded in its silver scales were red. Its spell complete, the copper cloud dissipated from the hilt in a twinkling of sparks.

The bear shifter swayed, eyes rolling back in his head, and collapsed onto his hands and knees.

A wordless scream ripped through my body and a wail rose from the oak tree. Pain exploded through my knees as I dropped to the floor, but I barely felt it. My heart had shattered.

Raw, unfettered magic burst from the oak tree. My fingernails turned black and lengthened into points. Heat and power pricked at the back of my eyes, the sclera flooding with a green as dark as the heart of an ancient forest. Battle magic, reinforced by the Tree of Life, was ready to be unleashed.

My promise to Marten, to my family, was forgotten. As was the vow to myself that I would never become the thing I hated. The Stag Man had taken so many lives without remorse, and it was my turn now.

Forget the Mabian bindings. Forget Elfame. I would not leave this hall until I had the Stag Man’s bloody head and antlers tacked up on the wall above his throne like a trophy.

Then, Arthur coughed.

H-he was still alive?

A new agony flared in my chest—hope rekindling, and my heart beating once more. My battle magic faltered.

Sucking in a ragged breath, Arthur spat a mouthful of blood out onto the floor and heaved himself upright. With a groan, he looked down at the blood smearing his chest and wiped it away.

There was no hole where the rapier and its cross guard had ripped through him. Just pink scar tissue.