It turned to fear when Percy, the head monk, spoke again. “We were hoping your feastweaver might tell us if they're any good.”
DON'T MOVE.I shouted to every wolf surrounding us, locking my muscles so I wouldn't glance at Fallon. She lounged against me idly enough but fine tremors ran over her skin. The monk didn’t appraise her so they may not have known who it was. I didn’t want to risk them finding out about Fallon. Her rare power was a prize for the wrong type of person.
“What’s that?” I asked, letting my eyes relax and go extra glossy.
The Percy’s grew limpid for just a moment and I notched a win for my unassuming presence. “A scarcemagic indeed. We’re scholars of magic in our sect. We never miss a chance to learn something new.”
And do what with it?Fallon, always with the sharp next question.
“I’m afraid we’re just simple wolves here. No exciting magic unless you like to chase sticks.” They didn’t seem the type to know what to do with Old Magic.
The head monk all but tisked. “Well, take the cookies anyway. We’ll be back to ask you how they were.”
That was a good threat,Fallon said.
I bowed my head. “We will have to politely decline. Watching the waistline and all that.”
Fallon stepped forward and it was all I could do not to snatch her back.
Her smile was determined. “I’ll take one.”
The female monk grimaced but did her best to turn it into an equally stiff smile. Fallon’s magic filled the air, my skin twitching with it.
They might be poisonous,I warned Fallon.
Good thing I know my way around food.
Her saucy wink at me did nothing to calm my nerves. Fallon was fearless. The concentration on her face, fearsome. How could I bring up that she might turn the Followers into soup? I wouldn’t take this away from her. I had to trust her.
The thin bond tugged at my heart as my mate collected her magic. Not in the chaotic yank she sometimes tried, in an effort to check off as many things aspossible all at once, but in a controlled stream, with intention.
Steady.I encouraged her.
“They all look so good.” I heard the strain of a lie in her voice. “Did you make these?”
Fallon shuffled the cookies around as if it was of the utmost importance that she found the biggest one. Her hands brushed every part of the inside of the basket. Pulling a chonker out of the bottom, she bit into it.
“I did,” the monk said, ungluing her eyes from me.
“MMMM, yummy. Thanks!”
“You’re welcome,” the female said in a flat voice.
I wanted them gone now and Fallon safe. I gestured to the woods behind them. “Well, thanks for stopping by. These strapping young wolves are going to escort you back to the border. For your protection, of course.” I could threaten right back, even in my most friendly voice.
“Of course,” Percy said. They turned and made their way back into the forest with their wolven guard.
Ned stamped his feet, whining. He wagged as he paced behind them, snuffling for the cookies we rejected.
“Ned! Maybe don't follow the scary monk guys.” I snapped my fingers. He eventually turned back, betrayal clear on his face.
Fallon stood rigid until they left. She spat the cookie into her palm.
“That was disgusting. What did she use? Pig lard? Smell this.” She held out her hand.
I reared back, laughing at her. “I’m proud of you for staying calm, but that’s gross, Honey.”
“Wait, no. Not that.” She tossed the mess of cookie on the ground and shoved her other hand in my face. I caught her wrist, pushing it down.
