Page 41 of The Filigree Key

For once, I didn’t protest. I felt hollow, not victorious, and I was grateful for the comfort he provided. Surely I had to be anthropomorphizing the little fire, but at the same time, it didn’t feel that way. Fire was just as alive as the earth was, but it didn’t go through restorative cycles like the rest of nature did. When it was extinguished, it was gone for good. Like a life.

And that life was written in the scalding on my hands.

“I want to go home,” I whispered.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

A ragged cheer erupted from the Brotherhood when Ossian and I emerged from the glen. Looking up from where I secured my leather guards over my cuffs, I realized the cheers were more out of relief that the hateful aura of the half-heart had vanished than my victory at mastering another element, but it still brought a small smile to my lips.

“Your future queen is formidable indeed,” Ossian told them, helping me into the saddle. “We’ll feast in your honor tonight, Meadow, but leave the fairy wine to the rest of us. A week remains and the hardest elements left for you—”

The Stag Man nearly bit off his own tongue as his head snapped to the east. His jewel-bright eyes glowed green, his nostrils flaring as he sniffed something none of us could detect.

“My lord?” Alec prompted. He cast an anxious look at the sky—its color and temperament had not improved, and the sun was setting in the west.

“Can you not sense that?” Ossian breathed, entranced.

Something about the wonder in the fae king’s voice had the Brothers closing their eyes. The bluish-green markings on their skin seemed to come alive, writhing. Seeking.

“I do,” Alec said suddenly, eyes snapping wide. “It’s incredible.”

“The Unseelie’s aura must’ve been masking it this entire time.” Ossian threw my reins toward Alec. “Take her back to the castle immediately. I’ll be along . . . after. Shane, on me.”

The magic hunter skewered me with a look of hate and jealousy at the opportunity he was missing and gave my dappled gray a vicious tug on the bit. “Let’s go.”

“Go yourself,” I snapped. I had the stirrups shucked and was slipping from the saddle faster than Alec could lunge forward and grab me with his only hand. I gave him a sneer and raced after Ossian.

Please don’t be what I think it is. Please don’t be what I think it is.

Gone was my earlier desire to return home—more specifically, to my room in the east wing with my cat in my lap. Cuddle time would have to wait.

The Stag Man moved with powerful even strides, forcing me to take two for every one of his. He registered my presence with only a glance, too preoccupied to reprimand me for disobeying his orders. I wasn’t the only one. Alec followed after us, almost stepping on my heels in their excitement.

Past the glen, through the trees, down a steep leaf-and-rock-strewn slope that terminated in lines of barbed wire and a NO TRESPASSING sign.

Oh no. I’d been here before. There was only one thing deep in these forgotten woods that could be calling to the fae king.

“Here,” Ossian said curtly. Without warning, he snatched my hand and slung me onto his back. There was no time to do anything else but link my legs around his waist and loop my arms across his neck.

The fae king shot off into the trees, the wind whipping tears from my eyes. Ducking my head, I pressed my face against his back and shut my eyes away from the blur of ground beneath our feet. There was no reason to watch; I already knew where we were going.

What had taken me and my friends hours to traverse, the fae king covered in a fraction of the time. The hills, the lowlands, the path beside the rushing river. Deadwood and leaves crunched under his strong hooves; his antlers tore through the branches and arcing briars that would’ve snagged our clothes and slowed us down.

With my ear against the thin linen of his shirt, I could feel his heartbeat begin to race. Not from exertion, but from excitement. Wonder, even.

The Stag Man slowed, his hands releasing their grip on my thighs. I slid off his back, staggering as the feeling returned to my numb legs. Absently, he reached out a hand to steady me, but the whole of his attention was on the magnificent tree before us.

The elm sparkled in the dying light of the day. It was as lively and green as it was the day I had shocked it back to life. Perhaps it was the change in seasons, or perhaps it was just the way of wild magic, but a faint silver light radiated from every leaf and fissure of bark. It was possible that light had always been there, just outshone by the sun. In the depths of night, however, I bet this tree was a gentle beacon to all who were afraid of the dark.

“Incredible,” Ossian whispered.

Even he had to crane his head as far back as it would go to take in the entire height of the tree. In true elm fashion, its canopy stretched far and wide with branches as thick around as ships’ masts. And with all the other nearby trees dormant for the winter, it had no competition for sunlight.

Mouth agape in awe, he stretched out his hand.

“Don’t touch it!”

The Stag Man whirled around, jewel-green eyes flaring.