Page 21 of Fae Mates

My throat thickened. I swallowed down a lump and nodded.

The cat returned my nod, his eyes blazing with determination. “I know exactly how you’re going to avenge her death.”

Chapter 6

McVittie asked me to return Mistress Catha to the candle, which he explained would eventually convert her decomposing body into wax and provide light and wisdom for the next hag to occupy the cottage. It was an effort, but I managed to heft her body into the corner, where the wax opened up and consumed her still form. I stared down at my oily hands, wondering if I would ever feel clean.

“Sorry,” I said to McVittie.

“She was a good hag,” said the cat. “Always ready to help a person who needed guidance, no matter how dangerous the consequences.”

I bowed my head and stared down at the floor. She had gone to all that effort to create an elixir that would return her to the spring of her youth, yet the Duke of Nevermore had cut her down.

“Why do you think he did it?” I asked McVittie. “Revenge?”

“It seems a lot of effort for a secret that’s already been spilled,” he replied. “But I’d bet my whiskers he didn’t want anyone knowing how he used the duchess’s magic. It’s one thing to murder one’s mate but another to use her death to take control of the throne.”

After pushing the stuffing back into the armchair and piling up the planks to resemble a bench, I walked out of the dingy hovel and out into the sunshine. Now, the herb garden overgrown with weeds looked sinister—a sign that its owner had died, and no one had bothered to check on her.

The morning sun warmed my face, but nothing could warm my cold heart, which settled into my stomach like a boulder of ice. Poor Mistress Catha. She hadn’t deserved to have her eyes plucked out and left for dead.

McVittie and I walked to the end of the path and continued down the road, which wound around the mountain. All around us, hags hobbled in and out of their cottages, tending to their gardens, carrying buckets of well water, all oblivious to Mistress Catha’s plight. I would have said something, but I was still in disguise and pretending to be dead.

The clip-clop of horse hooves dogged our steps, and with each passing moment, my anger mounted until heat flared from my skin, and I whirled around and met the centaur’s curious, blue eyes.

“Why are you following us?” I snapped.

“I’ve been thinking.” Coltrane rubbed his hairy chin.

“Do it somewhere else,” snapped McVittie.

“No, listen.” The centaur placed a hand on my arm.

I shook it off. “Bugger off and find someone else to haunt.”

“You’re the fifth one,” he whispered. “The one who’s supposed to be dead.”

The rest of my insides froze, and I stumbled over a cobblestone. What the bloody hell did he want from me? The answer had better not be anything along the lines of tug-a-lug, because I was in no mood for centaur high jinks. This entire fated mates business was serious enough to get a person brutally killed.

A denial rolled to the tip of my tongue, but Coltrane spoke first. “It’s alright. I’m not going to tell. We actually have something in common.”

“Like what?” I folded my arms across my chest.

He shook his head. “You don’t trust me yet, and what I have planned could mean freedom for the centaurs.”

My gaze darted down to McVittie’s, who tilted his head to the side in a sort-of shrug. It seemed that he didn’t know what on earth was going on, either.

Coltrane glanced from side to side as though checking that no-one overheard us. We stood at the end of the village with the forest on our left and a precipice on our right. He waited for a horse and cart to pass before speaking.

“You want to get your princes back.” He held up a large palm. “There’s no need to answer, but trust me when I say our interests run in the same direction.”

“Alright, then,” said McVittie. “I’m listening.”

I glanced down at the cat. “What? Why?”

“I smell no deception on this centaur.” He turned from me to Coltrane. “You’re not going to work against us, will you?”

He shook his blond head. “I’d like to help if I can.”