Page 14 of The Filigree Key

Taken aback, the fae king couldn’t react quickly enough. I plucked the key from his startled fingers. The moment I touched its silver filigree, the diamond blazed green. It pulled at me like the fae portal had, but this drain on my magic wouldn’t claim my life. I knew what it wanted, and I could give it.

I didn’t draw from the earth—there was none to be had with the cold stone underfoot. I didn’t even draw from the willow, though my hand had never left its bark. The tree was still connected to me through my magic, but like a friend with a supportive hand on my shoulder.

It was my own magic I offered the key, my life as a green hearth witch, my heritage as Violet Ní Dara’s heir. I had brought untold hardship upon Redbud, first from my own assumptions about the cursed grimoire and second by a destiny I had never known was to be mine, and I would not kill a third of its arable land. I would not leave this town destitute. I would repay it for the shelter and kindness and friendship it had so selflessly given me. Protect it.

The process was easy—I was a green witch who easily understood the true strength of the earth—but the strain was intense. I felt like a spring discovered by a creature dying of thirst who would not stop guzzling. Either the creature would burst of a swollen stomach or I would run out of water. Maybe this fae magic was more uncontrollable than I’d thought.

Internally, the magic oak tree’s roots glowed bright green, just like they had in Violet’s vision. It was like watching neurons fire, bursts of light along glowing threads, all racing from the tips of the roots to the trunk of the tree and back again. Externally, the willow tree warmed against my hand, offering its life essence. It gave it so freely, perhaps understanding exactly why I was doing this. To save its future home.

I didn’t need its help.

What I did need, however, was its support when I sagged against its trunk. Cupped in my hand, the filigree key shone brightly with one colored diamond. I barked a laugh in relief, then lifted my gaze as the beam of sunlight illuminating the other three diamonds turned to shadow.

The fae king loomed over me, and for a moment, I didn’t have the strength to choose between reality and glamour. His chipped antlers seemed to pierce the puffy white clouds overhead, and his face . . ..

There was fear there. Anger, too, and shock, but so much fear. He hadn’t expected me to do that, to be powerful enough in my own right to charge the key and not drain myself dry. Already my magical core was replenishing itself, spurred by the contact with the willow.

In a flash, he wiped his expression clean until only angry concern remained. Thistle thorns, he was so good at masking or obscuring his emotions and expressions that I wondered if anyone had ever truly known him at all. The sun caught and blazed in the gold mist of his glamour as he doubled-down on its influence, and I squinted to relieve the irritation in my eyes.

Weak, I had no defense against the stolen bond, either, immediately succumbing to its demand for obedience. Swindled into thinking that I would give, and receive, pleasure and love if I just submitted.

As much as it killed me, I offered the charged filigree key to my enemy.

“I think I’m done for the day,” I wheezed.

Ossian swiped the key from my hand, stuffed it into his pouch, then seized me by the shoulders. He gave me a shake that rattled the teeth in my head. “You stupid witch! You might’ve bonded your magic, but you are not fae! You cannot draw on your own source or you’ll burn out. That’s why we practiced with the tree! It could be days before you’ve recovered.”

Afraid of losing your ticket back home?

“But, yay, Redbud gets to eat another year?” My weak attempt at a joke didn’t land in the least. The fae king really didn’t care about anything else but his own insatiable obsession to return to Elfame and rip the court from his brother’s grip.

He growled his frustration, yanking me into an embrace that I knew now to be cold and unfeeling. It was just what was expected of him. “Don’t ever do that again, Meadow. You will take from the source I order you to, do you understand me? You are as much the key as this piece of silver in my pocket, understand? If you break, so does everything else.”

“Then stop being so rough on me,” I mumbled against his chest.

Squirming, I managed a little space between us and realized that I wasn’t as weak as I was a moment ago. Either the willow tree had donated some of its life essence without me noticing, or I was just that quick at recovering now. That was something to examine later, that’s for sure.

Then, dutiful to my charade, Misty Fields reached up and cupped his cheek. “Well, I’m off.”

He startled, his head rearing up like an alarmed stag’s. “What?”

“Well I don’t have another key-charging session in me, and Mrs. Bilberry doesn’t know what kind of wedding cake we want, nor what to serve at the feast, and I’m kind of starving, so, um, bye until dinnertime?”

“Meadow!”

But I was already moving toward the courtyard door (the fae idiot had left it open, which only aided the speed of my egress) and there was no way I was going to stay here a moment longer with Ossian and just . . . visit. Not when I was so vulnerable to that stolen fated mate bond.

“Mrs. Bilberry is an excellent cook,” he called after me, still flabbergasted. “She can handle it without y—”

“Yes, yes. But she must be instructed first,” I threw over my shoulder. “Honestly, Ossian, after charging that key, what did you expect us to do with the rest of the day? Cuddle?”

He used that fae speed to catch up to me, twirl me around, and shove my back against the nearest pillar of the colonnade. His hands pinned my wrists above my head, and his jewel-green eyes gleamed with a predatory light. “Yes. After a fashion.”

The look I gave him could only be described one of two ways—unimpressed or at the end of my patience. “Not until the wedding. You know that. Now let me go. Honestly, you’re worse than a rutting stag.”

“You have no idea.”

His crooked smile glinted like a freshly sharpened sickle, and I turned my head away so I wouldn’t have to endure his lips on my mouth. He had a truly lovely mouth, his lips full and soft and ever so warm, but it chilled me that a monster like him might make me forget Arthur, even for a second, with his kiss.