I left them to it and followed Aflora’s scent down the hallway to her room, where I found her standing in the center of a disaster zone with her hands on her hips. “You sure you don’t want my help?” I asked her softly.
She studied the shattered pot in the corner, her brow furrowing. “Why did they destroy the fairy plant? I mean, what could it possibly have been hiding?”
“They were being assholes,” I told her from the entrance of her room, my hands in my pockets. “Want me to teach you a spell that can fix it?”
She glanced over her shoulder at me. “We can fix it?”
I smiled. “Magic can fix almost anything, Aflora.” I pushed off the door frame and walked toward her. “Here, take out your wand and face the plant.”
Surprisingly, she did exactly what I requested, her focus intense as she surveyed the corner. “Okay. Now what?”
I lightly pressed my chest to her back, then drew my fingers down her arm to the hand holding her wand. “Lift it up to about here,” I explained, guiding her wrist upward. “You want to aim at the plant and draw a U just like this.” I demonstrated while I spoke by moving her hand subtly into the shape I described before leading her back to the beginning point and releasing her. “Now repeat that action while saying, ‘Illa’shala.’??”
She cleared her throat, then followed my instructions to the letter. Excitement hummed through her as the object adhered to her command to repair itself.
“Try it again on your closet door,” I suggested.
“But the plant isn’t done.”
“Don’t worry. The spell will continue until it’s finished or until you tell it to stop. Trust me.”
She shot me a look over her shoulder, one that said she didn’t trust me in the slightest, then grimaced upon realizing what she’d just done.
I didn’t comment, allowing the moment to pass, and waited for her to try the spell again.
After a few seconds, she conceded, her shoulders tense as if expecting the enchantment to backfire. When it didn’t, she visibly relaxed.
“Now say, ‘Badan clothes,’and do a zigzag motion over the closet,” I murmured.
“Zigzag, like this?” She drew her wand through the air in a Z pattern.
“Yes, but don’t exaggerate your wrist that much.” I reached for her again, this time placing a hand on her hip while my opposite reached for her hand. She didn’t tense, so I took it as an invitation to press my chest to her back again, then brought my lips to her ear. “Like this.” I guided her through a much smaller Z, then drew my fingers up her arm to rest on her shoulder. “Try it.”
She did and grinned as her wardrobe pieced itself back together. I was about to tell her to repeat the command for her shoes when she beat me to it, her boots and other articles lining themselves up in the same place they’d been before Danqris had sent a tornado through her things.
Aflora focused on her dresser next, using the same command, then looked at her books. “Do I restack those manually?”
“You could, or try the same spell and see what happens.” I still had my hands on her with my chest pressed to her back, so I felt her hesitation once more. But rather than look at me questioningly, she chose to utter the incantation.
All her school supplies returned to her nightstand and to her spot in the corner where she seemed to keep her books.
“You need a desk,” I realized, frowning at the space.
“There’s not enough room for it,” she replied.
She was right. “Okay.” I considered for a moment. “I want you to draw a square in the air and say, ‘Kala’key bookcase.’ And when you do it, picture the kind of bookshelf you’d like in the corner.”
“I thoughtTareerowas the spell for wanting something?”
“Only food.Kala’keyis how you create something, but you have to be very specific in your mind and make sure to push thatknowledge to your wand. Otherwise, nothing will happen. Or you’ll get something you don’t want. Depends on how it’s done.”
“That’s… promising.”
“Do as I said and you’ll be fine.” And if she didn’t, I’d help her fix it.
“Right.” She took a steadying breath, then muttered something about tulips under her breath.
My lips twitched in amusement. “Not flowers, a bookshelf.”
