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It looks like I’m having a date with Norbert.
ChapterTwelve
HENRY
Where is Alienor?
Where is my wife?
I pace the orchard on all fours, my nose tracing her scent, and follow it to the perimeter of her little cottage. The magic protecting it is nearly as strong as the wards around the grandmother’s grounds.
Her delicious aroma leads me down a garden path of white stones that glint in the moonlight. She has been missing for hours. That’s enough time for her to plot against me and return with something to force my defeat.
I’m tempted to follow the scent out of her grandmother’s stronghold, but there’s no telling if the wards would allow me back in.
The lights of the larger house shine in the darkness, and my ears pick up the sound of female pleasure. My spine shudders at the thought of the older woman taking sexual satisfaction from a broomstick.
Shaking my head and pulling my mind away this man-hating coven, I head down another path that leads to the village. I have walked this trail over and over, waiting for another chance to face my enemy.
Alienor’s voice carries in the wind, making my heart skip.
My prey has returned.
I raise my nose in the air, picking up her sweet scent. Forbidden fruit, fatal flowers, and spice. My nostrils flare at the scent of something deficient. Dark magic, deer musk, decay. I rear back.
It’s death.
Another sniff confirms that Alienor is agitated but not frightened. My ears prick up, and I catch snippets of her conversation.
“I want to see you again,” says a reedy male voice.
Alienor’s false laughter makes me bare my teeth in a snarl. My claws lengthen, digging into the earth. I want to know who this man is and why my wife, a queen, would appease such a weakling.
“We’re going to the library together, remember?” she says.
My hackles rise. I have never heard her sound so unsettled. She will not go anywhere with this man.
Stalking low, I use the tall chamomile plants as cover and reach the edge of the boundary. Whoever is persecuting my Alienor will pay for encroaching on what’s mine.
I slow beneath the canopy of an ash tree. Fallen branches crack beneath my paws, releasing a foul scent that matches my mood.
My throat tightens. These trees are poisonous to faeries, and the magic thrumming beneath my skin itches. I clench my teeth and endure. No amount of toxins will keep me from my wife.
Two figures approach from the road. Alienor and a man as tall as my two-legged form. He has the gangly build and awkward gait of a tree sprite.
His entire upper body leans toward my wife, who tilts in the opposite direction. Each time she creates a bit of distance, the man closes the space between them, causing Alienor to jog forward.
“I want a real date, Ali,” he whines.
“What do you call that movie?” she says. “And the restaurant.”
“You know what I mean,” he replies.
My chest rises and falls with deep breaths, and my muscles coil, waiting to strike. The shadows of the ash tree fill me with violent magic that crackles across my fur.
I will tear him apart.
Alienor falls silent.
