Page 27 of The Filigree Key

Alec’s face went from a pasty white to a ruddy red, his blue eyes blazing.

“Oh spare me.” I gave his glare a dismissive wave of my hand then picked up the Riesling. Even with the pause granted by my need for a sip, the Stag Man didn’t speak. He just watched me.

“Am I wrong?” I continued. “The men charged with their protection aren’t delivering the safety they promised. Now they see a bright magical blast last night that they know nothing about? Remember, only this court knows we’re bound for Elfame. Of course they’re acting out. It’s our duty to comfort them, don’t you agree, Ossian?”

As Alec and I waited for his response, I fiddled with the rubies at my throat. The quail-egg-sized ruby of my engagement ring caught the candlelight and scattered red flecks across the Stag Man’s face and chest.

Ossian noted the seemingly subconscious gesture and untangled his hand from mine so he could stand. As he stalked over to the stag throne, he threw over his shoulder, “Let them in, Alec.”

While his back was turned, Alec threw me another murderous glare before marching off. He sent a similar glare at Shane, who didn’t even blink. Moments later, a querulous cacophony echoed in the foyer, then down the hallway. The double doors of the great hall burst open for the second time tonight, clanging loudly as they knocked into the walls.

Alec reappeared, trying to control the tide of angry townsfolk without the aid of his magic and failing. He abandoned the endeavor and practically retreated to the foot of dais with his proverbial tail between his legs. Supposedly to defend his king, but undoubtedly to draw on the safety granted by Ossian’s proximity. He was forced to the side, however, for Shane already occupied the favored spot.

An army of beasts marched into the great hall—deer and cattle, horses and pigs, goats and llamas, hedgehogs and squirrels, egrets and herons, songbirds and jays, and so many rabbits. No apex predators, nothing that could challenge the Stag Man with tooth or claw. Save the bear and the honey badger, of course, but Flora, nor any of my other friends, were nowhere to be seen.

Lying low from a hard day’s work of inciting rebellion, I supposed.

The beasts at the forefront of the assembly balked upon sighting the hulking grizzly bear in the corner, but those behind them pushed forward until what seemed like the entire town was packed into the cavernous room. The bear remained prone, unmoving, though he watched the crowd with bright eyes. Perhaps searched for an ally.

Movement to my right jerked my attention away from the crowd—the side door was opening. Mrs. Bilberry, the woodchucks, and all the rest of the castle staff clustered together in the doorway to watch.

The army of beasts parted with much stomping of hooves and fluttering of wings to reveal an angry beaver and anxious-looking raccoon clinging to his arm. The carpenter had been deprived of his hammer and hand saw upon entry, but that didn’t stop him from using his empty toolbelt like a whip. Cody Beecham slapped it against the stone floor with a crack that split the air like a gunshot.

“Beaver,” Ossian thundered from his throne upon the dais. “What is the meaning of this insurrection?”

“I-insurrection?” Emmett sputtered. He tugged harder on the beaver’s arm to no avail. “Th-this is just a mass gathering of concerned citizens, Cernunnos, that’s all.” The raccoon plucked a flask from his satchel and thrust it at the beaver. “Calm yourself.”

“Cernunnos,” Cody hollered, thrusting his tool belt at the Stag Man, “Redbud’s in a state of panic and we’ve seen neither hide nor hair of you. The roguery and magical hinkery has gotten out of control! What are you going to do about it?”

“Cody Beecham.” At the power vibrating in my voice, every eye turned towards me still seated at the dining table. Green magic danced in my eyes and swirled about my fingertips.

Cody flinched, and Emmett shrank in on himself as if he was trying to dissolve into the floor. The rest of the townsfolk split their attention between the obvious power play and the food on the table. I knew the look of hunger—had experienced it myself upon fleeing to Redbud on the thinnest of shoestring budgets. They weren’t starving yet, but it was beginning.

I added that to my mental tally of crimes Ossian had committed against Redbud and finished my reprimand. “You will speak to the King of Beasts with a little more decorum, please.”

The raccoon elbowed the beaver in the ribs when he didn’t immediately acknowledge my request.

“Of course, milady. Sorry, milady.” The beaver nodded once in deference and turned back to the dais. He didn’t apologize to the fae king, though, just squared his rounded shoulders and continued his list of grievances. “Wystan and his thugs have been snatching people off the streets in broad daylight! Some of us have been forced to abandon our homes so we can band together to fend off the abductions. And now he’s got more magic on his side?”

Ossian didn’t say anything, his jewel-green eyes glittering as he drummed the fingers of one hand against the armrest.

“More magic? What do you mean, Cody?” I prompted.

“That bright light, of course! Sent a shock wave through the whole town—we all felt it, didn’t we? Woke up with some nausea and a serious case of the heebie-jeebies, didn’t we?” The beaver jabbed a black nail at the Stag Man. “Got an explanation for that? Or a game plan to counteract whatever fresh devilry he’s up to?”

“If I did,” Ossian replied stonily, “I would not need to share it with the likes of you.”

Had I not been told otherwise, I would’ve blamed the Stag Man’s insufferable superiority complex as the reason for his exile from Elfame. On the plus side, I didn’t have to work as hard to turn public opinion against him. He was doing an exemplary job all by himself.

“The shock wave was from a portal, Cody,” I quickly explained. The herbivore looked ready to charge up that dais and take a bite out of the fae king’s leg. “I summoned and anchored a portal to Elfame last night, and let’s just say fae magic and green magic don’t quite get along.”

It was a white lie, of course, but one that prevented the irate beaver from having yet another barb to hurl at the fae king and risk landing him in that insidious dungeon.

“The immortal lands,” a voice whispered from the side door. Which member of the castle staff had murmured the words, I couldn’t be sure, but they caught like wildfire throughout the assembly.

“Elfame, the land of the Fair Folk?” Emmett asked. Of course he would’ve heard the term with his brownie Monkfoot running around. “But why—”

“So you’re going to up and leave us while that hobgoblin you promised to apprehend continues to terrorize us?” Cody shouted. “What king does that?”