Page 5 of The Filigree Key

The grizzly bear, within his iron cage and chained down to the bed of the wagon, miserably remained in his beastly state, as did the rest of the townsfolk. That magic, as it happened, wasn’t an illusion. They’d all been truly transformed by the Stag Man’s power.

Trapped.

Thistle thorns, I needed a break from this farce of a life.

I needed a moment to be weak and let my emotions rage. And when that was done, to plan.

No sooner were we across the drawbridge and within the courtyard did I shuck myself from the saddle. With my foraging bag pressed tightly against my stomach, I managed a purposeful walk inside the castle proper instead of a sprint.

“. . . want that bear rechained in the great hall,” the Stag Man was saying. “Alec, get— Meadow, where are you going?”

“I’m sorry,” I flung over my shoulder, not bothering to stop, “did you just expend all of your magic and strength to anchor a fae portal in the mortal realm?” Oh my Green Mother, I was so close to hysteria or breaking down into a maniacal episode I was downright snarky and almost giddy. “No? Where do you think I’m going? To bed!”

I swear his bare feet sounded like stomping cloven hooves as he tore after me. With that incredible fae speed of his, he intercepted my path and barred the archway to the east wing with a muscled arm. I flinched, remembering how not too long ago I’d been seduced into wanting those arms tight around me.

And, I hated to admit, I still did. That stolen fated mate bond still tied us together, still made me susceptible to his lust and seduction more than his rubies ever had.

There had to be a way I could numb myself to it.

“Haven’t you heard a single thing I said?” he asked. “I told you on the ride back here that we need to start right away—”

“Then give me your magic,” I interrupted. “Rejuvenate me.”

Ossian’s jewel-green eyes narrowed.

“Oh wait, you can’t, so I guess that means I have a date with my feather bed. Excuse me.”

I ducked under his arm, but I’d only taken one step before his hand seized my biceps and practically wrenched me around.

“Meadow, love, this sudden change in your attitude is . . . disconcerting.”

Was that his hand moving to the pouch on his belt that contained the Caer powder? While I doubted it could befuddle me ever again, I wasn’t ready to test that theory or ready to let that secret out of the bag.

“I’m just . . . spent, Ossian.” The sigh was real but the smile I gave him was forced. “It’s not every day I summon and anchor a fae portal only to discover it locked and get blasted back a dozen yards. I’m tired and I’m sorer than if I spent the entire day tilling a field. I need to rest. That’s all there is to it!”

I realized I was on the verge of blowing my Misty Fields cover again and added some sweetness to my next words. “We all don’t have your stamina, fae king. The morning is not far off. Surely you can spare your fiancée a few hours.” Oh my Green Mother, I wanted to gag.

His beautiful cold eyes searched my face, whatever I was offering enough to convince him to hook his thumb into his belt and leave the pouch alone. “Then kiss me good-night and be on your way.”

Misty Fields did not recoil as Meadow Hawthorne desperately wanted to, but rose dutifully on tiptoe. Ossian did not incline his head to receive the kiss, scrutinizing my face and cataloguing its nuances.

This was a test, not affection, and I had to sell it. As my stomach twisted in revulsion, I turned my thoughts to Arthur and kissed the Stag Man.

My mind blanked—probably to spare me from the disgust—but when my senses returned, I found my face captured in the Stag Man’s hands and his hot, ragged breath blasting against my lips. My heart was hammering, but so was his.

“Do you love me?” he rasped, his wild jewel-bright eyes boring into mine. His body trembled, the vibrations coursing down his arms and through his fingers into my skin and rattling against my skull. He could crush it like an egg if he didn’t believe my answer.

He’s afraid, I realized, and that realization brought a smile to my face. It widened as I came to my own understanding as I lifted a hand to smooth the copper curls away from his tense face and whisper the familiar words into the space between us, “You’ve stolen my heart.”

I’d never loved him, not even when I’d been under his spell. My heart had always known he was nothing but a thief and that its love belonged solely to another.

Ossian swallowed thickly and released me. “Go. I’ll see you at dawn.”

I kept my stride steady as I retreated down the empty east wing, for the Stag Man was watching me go. That smile I’d given him stayed right on my face.

And that’s a win for Misty Fields. Keep it up, girl. Right after you gargle with some boiling water.

CHAPTER TWO