Page 69 of The Filigree Key

The bear leaned hard into my hand, his whole head as large as my torso and just as heavy.

“Okay, sorry, but more later.” Someone definitely would’ve heard my scream and would be coming to investigate.

Unzippering my foraging bag to search inside—I had to shove his rooting snout away; no snacks in there!—I found the garden snail. The orange supplement it had been feeding on was all gone, and it was now gumming the glass.

And successfully, too. There was already a hole where Auggie’s acidic saliva had partially dissolved through.

Casting a glance over my shoulder, just in case, I unscrewed the lid and tapped the garden snail into my palm.

The grizzly bear immediately lunged for my hand.

“No!” A zap of green magic had the bear throwing up his head in distress. “This is a friend, not food. Don’t you dare eat Auggie. Now c’mere.”

The bear was reluctant to lower his head again, fearful of another zap, but scratching under his chin convinced him it was a good idea. Quickly, I parted his fur and found the collar around his neck and that heretic fork embedded in the metal.

Time to put my theory to the test.

The runes I’d etched into the garden snail’s drab brown shell glowed brighter and brighter as I lowered Auggie onto the antler. But the snail, however augmented, was still no different than the bear or me or any other living creature.

Sensing no external magic attack, the wards on the collar let the snail pass.

Auggie immediately attacked the heretic’s fork with gusto.

I waited and watched as long as I dared, stroking the bear absently, and my heart skipped a beat as a quarter of a rune disappeared under Auggie’s caustic gnawing. Then it leapt for joy when the snail wasn’t ejected for such an egregious offense and kept on chewing.

It would take days to dissolve all the runes, but maybe only a few of them needed to be compromised before Arthur could assume mastery over his shape again. If he was still in there.

He will be, I told myself vehemently.

The gentle ring of a little golden bell spurred me to take flight to the side door. It would not do for the staff to see me being friendly with the bear. Or see that magic hunter passed out on the floor.

Wrenching open the side door, I found Mrs. Bilberry with her paw poised in the air where the door handle had once been and the parade of woodchucks—minus Ricky—lined up behind her.

The surprise on the badger’s face was quickly replaced by suspicion. “Milady, please don’t tell me you’re skipping out on dinner again. Those mussels and snails—”

“Will taste delicious in the kitchen,” I finished, already exiting through the side door and scooching around her. “It’s just me tonight, and won’t it be more cozy down there? I need to feed Bruno anyway.”

“Y-you want to eat in the kitchen?” the badger echoed me, glancing at the hobs.

The kitchen was where the staff ate, and I wasn’t supposed to socialize with them. If I ate down there, they would have to wait until I was gone before they could have their dinner. AKA, rude.

“I am the fae king’s future bride, and I don’t appreciate being questioned, Mrs. Bilberry. Now you and the hobs will join me in the kitchen and share this feast. End of discussion.”

“We get to have escargot?” Dale squealed excitedly. “In butter and garlic sauce with parsley and buttered toast points?”

Clamping down a paw on the cloche covering his silver platter, Dale whipped around and scurried towards the servant passageway. “Quick, fellas, before Miss changes her mind!”

Smiling, I turned to take the spiral staircase. Miss, not milady. Dale’s memories were returning too.

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sawyer did not return the next morning.

There was no note from him in the chimney soot, either.

Gnawing on the inside of my cheek, I checked every window for any sign of Gertrude. Twice. Surely Daphne would’ve sent the robin to warn me if something was amiss?

My heart drummed against my ribs like the frantic beating of a bluebird’s wings. Panic threatened to rise, my stomach souring.