Page 114 of The Filigree Key

I yanked the hickory nuts out of my sleeve pocket, hurled them at the dough by Ossian’s feet, and shouted,

“Silk of the spider, fiber of hemp and flax,

make these Mabian bindings hold strong and fast!”

The nuts immediately activated, shells bursting apart to release a frightening network of glowing green threads.

“Sawyer! Arthur!”

I’d lost track of the little cat, but my familiar had been tenacious in his struggle to reach Arthur. He was halfway through the faelight army, claws digging into the neck of a black bear as he fought to stay aloft.

There was no sign of the wight.

“Fragor maximus!” the cat cried.

A concussive blast rippled through the frenzy in the great hall. It was the same spell he’d used on my family when they’d raided the farmhouse, only this time, it had extra oomph.

Arthur dropped to one knee, plunging the sword into the floor and holding on as the shock wave sent every other animal flying through the air. I merely batted the blast to the side as I ran down the table, flinging a look over my shoulder to find the Stag Man, the chair, and a rapidly deflating Bruno sprawled on the ground. The Mabian bindings continued to weave, their initial burst of speed having slowed dramatically.

“Sawyer,” I barked, sending a magical vine after him. The cat still squeaked in surprise as it coiled around his belly and yanked him into my arms.

Scattered across the great hall, the faelight beasts began to rise. They’d only been stunned, and their order to destroy the Bear Prince remained.

Shouting Arthur’s name, I flung out of hand filled with green fire. A fiery wall cleaved the great hall in half, and this time the flames truly burned.

“What are they doing?” Sawyer whispered.

My feet slowed to a stop of their own accord as I watched, horrified, as the faelight beasts charged the fire. Ossian’s hold over them had overridden their instincts, and even as their fur and feathers and scales and shells burned, they still threw themselves at the bear shifter. A relentless tide that would overwhelm him eventually.

“Insufferable witch!” the Stag Man roared, jolting us from the horrific scene. One sweep of his hand knocked the heavy trestle table out of his way, and he lowered his antlers like a bull about to impale me on his horns. He was still speckled in dough, but not one green thread bound him immovable.

Oh my Green Mother, how had the Mabian bindings failed? Had I not layered the spells on the hickory nuts right?

“Meadow!” Arthur’s hail was the only warning I received before he launched Faebane like a javelin.

What the—? Why was he throwing away his only weapon?

Magic caught the sword. Air first to slow its course, then earth in my preferred shape of a vine to draw it into my hand. Ossian regarded me with newfound wariness, copper magic building in his hands.

“Go, sweetheart.”

Somehow the cacophony had stilled for that single moment, Arthur’s calm words echoing across the great hall. I met his hazel eyes for only a second before they flashed amber.

“No,” I cried. “Don’t—”

The grizzly bear leapt free of the surging faelight army, cleared the flames, and slammed into the fae king. Ossian released a bestial roar and slashed with his antlers, and that was the last thing I saw.

With Faebane and my cat clutched in my arms, I whispered the Rabbit Step Spell and raced out of the castle.

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

The snow that had started earlier this evening had lessened and the sky had broken through the clouds to release a little moonlight. But the storm was far from over—so much more was coming.

My feet knew the way to the portal. They raced over street and woodland and field, slowing only when I recognized a familiar white streak racing through a shorn soybean field. Two familiar white streaks, the wight weaving between the horse’s legs and lending speed and endurance.

Flora released one paw from where she held Daphne’s mane in a death grip and flung it into the air. “Meadow!”

The Arabian mare slowed from her gallop to an easy canter, her breath blasting in frosty jets from her nostrils. I slowed the Rabbit Step Spell to match, and Gwyn transformed from formless vapor into the shape of the Irish setter. She spun a circle around me, sending the snowflakes into a spiral. “You kept your word, Violet’s Daughter. Much gratitude.”