Page 5 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Panic catches fire in my veins, and I lurch to my feet. Liskaal gestures, and his people march me toward the annex, where guests and less important visitors are housed within the royal compound. The crowd parts reluctantly, yielding only enough space for me to get knocked by shoulders and elbows.

The Lord of Winter makes one final command: “Make her presentable.”

Kerboros watches in silence, though his eyes flash. And then he’s gone in a swirl of gray cloak; he’s all bronze and midnight, and I wish I’d managed to kick his shins. In the Winter Court, most have raven-dark hair or a blue so pale, it gleams white. There are variations in skin tone, with those of inky tresses having light skin and the blue-haired fae usually deep as midnight. Kerboros is the rare exception, warm skin and raven hair and eyes gray as cloud cover. The ladies and maids run the gamut in complexion, but I don’t recognize any of them.

“This way,” a court lady murmurs.

“Oh, you’re bleeding. Let me heal that first.” A brownie, bless her, appears from behind the rest.

She’s small and wrinkled as a nut, though that’s no indication of her age. Deep-green hair curls all over her head, fine as moss, and she beams as a soothing warmth permeates my skinned palms and knees. I know her. This is Da’s friend Erdene, someone I’ve known as not quite an auntie but who’s been kind when our paths cross.

“That feels better. You’re gifted.” My smile conveys appreciation, but I know better than to thank her.

Mortals who stumble into our world thank us for everything. Those words create obligations, offering proof of indebtedness, and once you’re locked into a bargain, it can be difficult to extricate yourself. I have no desire to work in the kitchen in Erdene’s stead while she lolls on a cushion.

Erdene bares her sharp teeth in a delighted smile. “Mudge has raised you well.”

Mudge is my real dad, in my heart’s core, but there are no documents binding us, nothing that proves we’re family, other than our love for each other. But the quickest way to make me smile is to praise him. “I think so too.”

Erdene turns to the others. “The rest of you, go. I’ll make Thea ready.”

At her touch, drowsiness suffuses me, and my muscles go lax. My knees wobble as she guides me toward the bathhouse, the only aspect I like about the Winter Court. The luxury is so excessive that it could steal your soul, all gleaming polished white stones and the cascade of steaming water from bright platinum pipes. There are huge tubs with scalloped edges, one steaming hot, one comfortably warm, one icy cold, and so many magical unguents and potions devised to make one more gorgeous and glamorous.

Belatedly, I inquire, “Ready for what?”

“We’ll discuss that later,” she hedges.

Probably I should dig for more information, but Erdene herds me to the cascading water, and she has such big eyes. They’re clear as topaz, fringed in a delicate web of green lashes, a shade deeper than her hair. Though she comes only to my shoulder, she is, as many brownies are, deceptively strong. Her grip tightens, though not enough to hurt me.

“A bath? Now?” I ask.

“You could use some looking after, my dear. How did you ever get so grubby?”

“I smeared myself with mud and moss on purpose.”

“Silly child.” But it’s a fond scolding.

Brownies can be nurturing, the flip side to their unruly streak. I sigh and strip down, immersing myself in the silky, crystalline water. I’ve heard the Summer Court has myriad natural beauties, but in the Winter Court? Water is life, whether it’s free-falling in a sleeting rain, fluttering in snowflakes, or frozen solid.

She opens a pot, releasing the glorious fragrance of distilled dreaming dragonberry, a fantastical peppery sweetness that heats the skin. There are crystals ground into the mixture, and she uses a hagstone to exfoliate until my skin feels brand-new. Rejuvenated, I scrub away the grime and exhaustion so that my whole body tingles.

Afterward, I get a full beauty treatment, with Erdene massaging me with scented oil, anointing my feet as I sip some lovely floral tea. The spices are bright and piquant, all yellow and gold on my tongue, so this must be a Summer import. Winter teas tend to taste blue or green, sometimes with faint notes of purple. I’ve never sampled black tea, though the humans supposedly have it. I wonder how rich and delicious it must be, like drinking the night itself. But while I daydream about the mortal realm sometimes, I don’t want to go there. Da says they have nearly destroyed all their wild places, which means there’s nowhere I’d feel at home.

After the massage, Erdene smooths a bright blue mask upon my face and covers the rest of me with steaming towels. An ice bath will follow; in the Winter Court, they believe it adds a glow in addition to all the magical benefits. Normally, I would be fidgeting by now, but Erdene is humming the most soothing song, all soporific bliss. I recline and wait until the hot cloths cool. The cold plunge is shocking, but I do feel invigorated.

The brownie eyes me critically. “With your coloring, I think you’d shine in silver. What do you think, my darling?”

She holds up two gowns, neither of which I’d prefer to put on. I was prepared for punishment, and while primping wouldn’t bother some folks, for me, it’s torture. I want to object, especially to the pinchy shoes that I suspect Erdene will soon insist on, but I’m so sleepy that I can’t be bothered to complain. I stare muzzily at the dresses.

The first is ivory, and it has so many layers. The thing is diaphanous, and if I wore it, I would feel like a cream cake adorned with curtains that belong in a maiden’s bower. The silver dress is sleeker, with long sleeves and a fitted bodice, holding a delicate shimmer when the light glides over it. Sometimes it’s matte and sometimes it’s a river.

“Definitely the silver,” I decide. “But what—”

“You must be hungry. How long has it been since you’ve had a bite?”

I struggle to hold on to the edges of my initial question. Or objection. What was I about to say, anyway? I can barely remember what Erdene asked now. Hm. I skipped breakfast, I think, and I walked for so long in the woods. All the way to the edge of the swamp. “I’m not sure.”

My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t remember what I intended to do before we got here. I’m getting ready for something important, am I not? That’s true as it can be.