Page 67 of The Filigree Key

The moment the knife bit into the leather, Alec was knocked off his feet.

The Stag Man hissed his displeasure. “But of course it’s protected,” he spat. “Get up, Alec.”

Then he lifted me effortlessly into his arms. He was gentle out of necessity, not from affection. I released a small moan, head rolling to rest against his chest. Eyes slitted beneath long lashes, I watched. And I listened.

Ossian’s gait was smooth as he strode off towards the castle, leaving Shari’s hut undisturbed. He had no reason to demand the porcupine’s silence since he still believed her to be under his influence.

Daphne was nowhere to be found.

“I am displeased, Alec,” the Stag Man said, his voice rumbling against my ear. “This could’ve been avoided. I haven’t had to dose her since the portal, which means something about that blast affected her in a very advantageous way. An advantage, it seems, you have ruined.”

“My lord, she attacked me,” he said, voice rough from his near-strangulation.

By the Green Mother, did this sniveling excuse of a man never not whine?

“I had to defend myself. She’s getting too strong. Perhaps even for you.”

Ossian struck so fast I barely felt him move. The Stag Man backhanded the magic hunter across the face, the crack of knuckles against flesh echoing through the wide-open spaces of the castle estate’s lawns. He readjusted his cradling support of my legs and walked on as if nothing had happened.

“She will never be enough to challenge me, Alec. She is a witch, primal or not, and thus inferior. Though, she has a valid point about how poorly my hunt is going. I want that tree. You and your Brothers aren’t getting in my way, are you?”

“She lies, my lord,” he hissed.

“It’s not in her nature to lie, Alec, but it is in yours.” Ossian pivoted, releasing his hold on my arm to rotate his hand until the palm faced outwards. A tendril of copper magic snaked out and stabbed Alec in the chest, right on that Celtic knot I was supposed to forget about.

Smoke rose from sizzling flesh, pungent in the cold air.

The magic hunter cried out. “No, my lord. Don’t let her turn you against me!”

But the attack was already over. A flawless piece of flesh was all that remained.

Angry tears filled Alec’s eyes, and it was more than hate that filled them when he looked down at me where Ossian carried me in his arms. It was rage.

“Now you can only receive that which I deem fit to give you,” the Stag Man said, calm and detached. “You will tell the other Brothers to present themselves by midnight. I will be removing their marks as well. And I will kill those who don’t comply.”

“Yes, my lord,” he ground out.

“You will not touch her again, do you understand me? You will not haunt her steps.”

Because that’s what Shane’s for. Ugh.

“You will not look in her direction unless you can keep your own emotions in check. Disobey me again, Alec, and I will not spare you.”

“Yes, my lord,” he growled.

“That attitude needs adjusting, Alec. I’m still of a mind to leave you this place when I return to Elfame, but your obstinance is making me reconsider. Perhaps you should be the bearer of the gyfu-gar rune.”

Every lesson my mother had ever taught me about runes sprang to the forefront of my mind. Gyfu: the balance between giving and receiving. Gar: the spear. But the meaning of witch runes was contextual, like Chinese characters. These two, in this sequence, spoke of a magical process where Shane would use all that magic he had stolen and his life essence to supercharge a weapon. Maybe become that weapon.

It was probably the only way to take the life of a fully realized primal witch—by giving his life in return.

And Alec couldn’t inherit a town of magical folk to terrorize if he was sacrificing himself.

“I’m sorry, my lord,” came his quick and far more amicable reply.

“Better. I have more pressing concerns than your easily offended sensibilities.” His stride turned to stomps. Each cloven hoof crushed the frozen ground beneath it. “The hobgoblin’s trail brought me north, and I daresay I smelled that cat, Ame. And perhaps something else.”

Ame! I hadn’t seen Sawyer’s mentor since she’d snatched that barn owl spy out of the air, and that was days ago. The caliby cat kept her own schedule, but it was strange not to see hide nor hair of her for so long. What was she up to?