Page 36 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

One swallow each of wilding wine

’Tis best if you frame this as refreshment and not as a spell or a charm per se. Angelica blossoms are a delightful snack, and who would turn down a taste of a lovely jasmine honey wine? Any flavor will do, however. I’m rather partial to dew pear acacia. Whatever you have should suffice, as long as you maintain lightness of heart. With the stones warmed from your grip, first offer the angelica blossoms with a cheerful spirit. Once all companions partake, pour the wine and proffer a sip to each. If the charm is taking hold, they won’t resist despite using a communal cup.

Your gentleness can seduce them from “they” to “we” in a trice. I find it’s best to give a little toast. You can be clever or witty or funny as a drunken boggart or even try to sway their hearts. I use this, now and again: “Here’s to stealing, fighting, and drinking. When you go thieving, take only your true love’s heart. And when you do battle, let it be for the defenseless. And when you drink, please raise a glass with me.” It’s a rare soul who can resist, and once they’ve enjoyed your food and savored your wine, they’ll feel a bond, my gem.

Never underestimate the power of moving someone’s heart. People will go to war on orders and flee when the tide turns, but they’ll defend their homes to their last breaths. But you already know that. The beavers taught you this lesson in the wildlands. I’ll never forget finding you covered in mud from top to tail, guarding your stockpile of sharpened sticks. You were ready to fight a small sprite army to protect that beaver dam.

Thea

When I take Kerboros’s hand, my fingers tingle, all flaring heat, like being struck by lightning—or a pixie’s wrath.

That sensation yields to the awful portal lurch that churns up my guts. But the colors of his aura, echoed in this swirling vortex, are so freaking pretty. Kerboros brings stardust and wonder, sea-glass blue and sparkling iolanthe shot through with frost and silver. I thought he was colorless at first, but no. Instead, he’s all the colors, compressed so tightly it looks like shadow.

Once the shimmering fades and my eyes adjust, I notice that we haven’t landed in the Court of Springtide. Dammit. Nothing ever goes as planned.

And ordinarily, it’d be an adventure, figuring out where the heck we are. Somewhere else could be the most fun I ever had. But I think about Da, waiting patiently at home for me. Even if he’s not currently in the cells, I understand that he’s a hostage until I find my spouse and convince Lord Liskaal that I can make that relationship work.

Fear slithers up my leg and grazes my throat with its fangs. I don’t let it bite. I force away my emotions and box them up, as I’ve been doing with my hunger for my entire life. I try to silence the ticking clock in my head. Please don’t hurt my dad. He’s all I have.

Strictly, that’s not entirely true. There are people who care about me, dear friends who will miss me if I’m banished to die a slow, excruciating death, experiencing the horrid withdrawal that comes from the sudden cessation of magic. But Da? Losing me would destroy him. He’s the best parent in the world, and I can’t let anyone hurt him, no matter what. Internal resolve slowly forces fear of failure to submit.

Kerboros paces, intensely perturbed and glaring at the golden meadow as if it has personally offended him. I take stock of our surroundings. Tall grass—a delicate golden green, tipped with lacy white flowers here and there—sings as the wind passes through the field. There are pops of color: purples and pinks brightened by a cheeky occasional orange. The air smells sweet too, gentle in my lungs. Other than the flowers, I don’t recognize any landmarks. No sloping hills or rock formations. Not even a mushroom ring.

That makes me feel…uneasy. It’s a little unusual not to find trees of any kind in the wildlands. We guard our sacred groves and honor the dryads who dwell there. Here, it’s best to presume everything is alive and listening—and behave accordingly. Da didn’t teach me anything in particular about flower fae, so I’m at a loss.

Not somewhere I want to be.

“Hello there. What took you so long?” The familiar voice seems to come from nowhere; then Zeph pops into view amid a profusion of blooms.

“Were you waiting for us?” I tilt my head, baffled by so many things, but currently, I’m wondering how Zeph got ahead of us.

They couldn’t have known where we were going, right? This was a misfire of Kerboros’s magic, not where we’re supposed to be at all. Some wild fae are tricksters, so they might be joking. While most fae can’t lie directly, they can jest and tinker with meanings and misdirect all day long.

“What makes you say that?” they ask.

“Never mind.” Getting a straight answer will require more energy than I possess.

I consider deploying a useful spell that Da crafted for wayfaring, but I decide to save it. Because, usually, when I think things can’t get worse, they do. Hope for the best; plan for the worst. That credo has never steered me wrong.

“Do you know where we are?” Kerboros asks in a grudging tone.

I shake my head. It must gall him, knowing that we’re here because his magic misfired. From all my observations of him, he seems tightly wound, focused on efficiency and obedience. Lately, though, I’ve seen glimmers of something else. An ungovernable streak he’s been repressing with all his might, and it calls to me. The feelings I had before rebound even stronger. In Macha’s grove, I wanted to protect him. In the aftermath of his terror, I comforted him.

And now… Oh no.

There’s no time or space for me to feel this way. I’m not sure when empathy shifted into intimacy, but now the feelings are deeper still. I like the way he looks and the way he smells, and he’s so very warm. My cheeks are suddenly white-hot as I imagine—

“Thea?” Zeph prompts.

“What?”

“You’re so red. Are you quite all right?”

I wave a hand, trying to cover my embarrassment. I’ll die if Kerboros realizes how I feel. I grope my way back to the original topic and turn the question back to Zeph. “What about you? Have you been here before?”

They aim an impressive smile at me. “Many times.”

“Tell us what you know,” Kerboros demands.