Page 81 of The Filigree Key

With a large grin, the cat leapt, ran up the trunk in a streak of amber, and disappeared into the knotty hole that led to its heart.

I gasped, feeling Sawyer’s spirit bind with mine. He was imprinted in my heart, the same heart I shared with my magic oak tree. He diffused into me, and me into him, thousands of little threads joining the few that already connected us and knitting ourselves even tighter together. I felt his own joy, his optimism, his fortitude. He felt my tenacity, my steadfastness, my unbreakable will to be the shield between Ossian and any he would hurt.

I felt his magic too, wild in the way all animals were, and surprisingly potent. No wonder Brandi had wanted to bind him. He was one of a kind.

The sensation of a soul-soothing hug enveloped me, enveloped us.

“You’re mine now too, Meadow,” Sawyer purred into my mind, before the last of the guarding trees were torn asunder.

“Don’t know him, do you?” Ossian sneered, storming onto the beach.

A copper rope coiled around Sawyer’s chest and yanked him from my embrace just as another rope tightened around my throat. It yanked me upright by my neck before my own magic dispelled it with a formidable burst of dark green light.

Battle magic.

The runes on the iron cuffs smoldered.

“Let him go,” I snapped.

The copper rope had placed Sawyer’s scruff in Ossian’s grip again, but this time, the cat didn’t struggle. He held his paws tucked against his belly, tail wedged between his hocks, and his eyes were wide and unblinking.

“I’m okay. I got this.”

I was still reeling from the first time he’d spoken into my mind. And how did being immobilized by our enemy merit “I got this” in any way, shape, or form? Shaking off my confusion, I faced off against the Stag Man.

He was staring at me as if he’d seen a ghost, his gaze flitting from my long unbound hair to my dark eyes and darker fingernails, to the mud that stained my bare feet and legs and the rents in my dress. To the dark green magic that coiled around not just my arms, but my entire body.

“Let. Him. Go.” The power of my voice blew the copper curls out of his eyes to tangle in his glamoured antlers, but the Stag Man dug in his feet and stood his ground. Behind him, the trees quaked.

“How long have you been awake, Meadow?” He gave Sawyer a vicious shake when I didn’t immediately answer. “How long?”

“Long enough. Now release him!”

“Convince me.” His eyes trailed down my lips to my breasts to my full hips and back again with a lascivious sweep of his gaze. I recoiled, fighting down the desire to pluck those beautiful jewel-green eyes from his head and throw them into the river for the fish to swallow.

“No? But you’re such a good actress, Meadow Hawthorne,” he sneered. “I suspected once or twice since you summoned the portal, but only just. All those spies I sent to your room—they never returned. Not unusual, they’re just mice, but rats are much smarter than mice, but even they did not scurry back to tell me your secrets. And the owl.” He shook his head. “That could be explained away too, but when I found this”—he jerked Sawyer again—“lurking where he didn’t belong and setting off all kinds of alarms, I knew he couldn’t be operating on his own. But, just to be sure . . ..”

Another leering grin had me filling in the blank at double-time. I’d let him kiss me and touch me as he’d desired to maintain the ruse that I was still under his thrall. This morning he’d been particularly amorous, and I hadn’t protested once. While I hadn’t encouraged him, I hadn’t shoved him away either.

“Does your precious, honorable bear shifter know what a whore you are?”

The battle magic vines twisting around my body suddenly reared, thorns growing to the size of stakes. They’d impale him like crossbow bolts stingers with just a thought.

“Easy, love.” Ossian hefted Sawyer in front of him, dangling the cat from side to side.

“I’m not your love. I doubt you’re even capable of the emotion.”

“Perhaps once. But you still are.” Once again, he dangled my tomcat in front of me like an angler’s lure. The threat was simple—move against him, and he’d make sure it was Sawyer who got hurt instead. “Now, what have you been up to?”

With a spiteful smile, because I knew it would piss him off, I answered, “Why, charging the filigree key, of course.”

“Tell me,” he thundered, “or I’ll break his neck!”

“Stop it! You’re getting everything you want, Ossian. I’m charging the key to open the portal, just like in our bargain. You didn’t need to tamper with my memories or imprison Arthur or turn everyone into a beast.”

“Oh, but I did. You are Violet’s daughter, and her unruly, self-righteous streak lives within you. She needed to be curbed, tamed of her wild ways so her magic could be used properly.”

“One male’s opinion,” I sneered.