Page 52 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Rosa scoffs in a loud pixie undertone. “You mean Lord Winter will.”

“That’s generous,” Zeph cuts in. “Shall we take our food and drinks with us and enjoy a break before traveling on tomorrow?”

I stand, enticed by the prospect of a hot bath, a delicious meal, and clean, soft sheets—in precisely that order. “That sounds heavenly.”

24

The Blue and the Burn

This piece started as part of a shipwreck, rescued on one of the artist’s journeys. The wood is gray and weathered, exposed to elements and salted for good measure by a restless sea. It seems to have arrived from the mortal realm, doubtless driven through one of the swirling sea portals that siphon materials from human enclaves. Two forms have been carved, and the lines have been painstakingly burned dark, offering a charred yet strangely beautiful effect. The figures are vague and small, though it is uncertain whether they are meant to be young or instead depict sprites or pixies instead of larger beings. They touch only at the hands, arms arcing away from each other, and it lends an air of melancholy to an otherwise simple scene. Blue pigment has been washed over the wood, though not the pyrographic designs. Those lines remain black and stark, two small figures holding hands. For now. For as long as they’re allowed to.

Kerboros

On the other side of the kitchen, the Toad in the Hole boasts a bathhouse.

The space is simple and clean, nothing unnecessary. Stones have been smoothed together so seamlessly that it feels like a cave, skilled magic in the making of this place. For once unconcerned with such craft, I sink into the warm pool with a raw sound I would never make if I wasn’t alone. A charm would have sufficed to remove dirt and tidy my person, but it doesn’t offer solace for sore bodies. Hunting can be exhausting work.

Traveling with Thea? Well, that is pure temptation, and holding back has my body in a tight coil. I untie my hair and dunk my head in the water, holding my breath to force away more prurient thoughts. These days, it’s so difficult to restrain myself and not reveal how heated my regard has become.

Earlier today, I wanted to kiss her so fiercely that my toes curled in my boots. I still want to. Just…want. Endless oceans of it.

I remind myself that she’s spoken for. Promised to someone without her permission, a quiet voice reminds me. She told her friend she wants out of that relationship. Not that she wants to build a life with Fenelon. But even if she longs for me as much as I crave her touch, my cousin would never permit me such joy.

I burst from the water to find Thea slipping into it. It has been longer than I care to recall since I shared a communal bath. I have enough social grace not to gawk in response to her arrival, but every fiber of my being vibrates now that she’s here. Her hand flies to her mouth, and her eyes widen. She must not have seen me beneath the bubbling water.

“I was here first,” I say, hoping she’s not about to object to my presence.

“I’m surprised, not complaining,” she shoots back.

She settles on the opposite side of the stone bath, which is large enough to hold two or three additional patrons. More if they’re sprites or pixies, less if they’re gruagachs. Her skin is gently flushed from the heat, her brown hair damp and wispy around her pink cheeks, which are a little hollower than before we set out, and she has new mauve crescents beneath her eyes. Weariness or something more? Isn’t she receiving satisfactory nourishment?

“Are you hungry?” I truly must get better at finding segues to inquire about such matters. I always sound brusque, demanding information as if it’s my due.

I am not my cousin.

“More than you can ever imagine,” she whispers.

I loathe the thought of Thea suffering, would crawl out of my skin to prevent it at this point. “Then take what you need from me. You have my explicit permission.”

She hesitates only a second, and I suspect the fact she moves at once is more a testament to her state of starvation than any desire to be closer to me. “Have you washed your hair yet?” she asks unexpectedly.

“Not yet. I haven’t been here long.”

“It’s so pretty. To be candid, I was admiring it when you hauled me back to Winter after I released the pookas.”

“My hair?” I never receive compliments, and I’m not sure how to proceed. But…it’s not a bad feeling, knowing that she appreciates one of my physical traits.

“Gorgeous,” she affirms. “And if you’re willing, I’d like to propose an exchange…your energy for my service. I don’t accept handouts.”

“By all means,” I breathe.

There are cleansing products arrayed in pots and jars behind us. She chooses something that smells like distilled sunshine, not a scent I would have chosen for myself, and lathers my hair in long, soothing motions. Her fingers are gentle on my scalp, creating a cascade of tingles that spark long-dormant nerve endings to life. My whole body reacts to her touch, coming to readiness with an alacrity that’s both impressive and awkward.

Under the water, I pinch my inner thigh just to be sure this is happening. I’m naked in the bath with Thea. She’s behind me, and the water blurs my body, so hopefully she won’t notice. I focus on the scalp massage so intently that it takes me a moment to identify that warm lassitude stealing over me. My muscles relax, ones I hadn’t even realized were taut. An eternity of tension releases when she fills a jug and rinses my hair in tender, careful motions. The edge of frustration softens. So does my anger and my perception of being trapped. With my senses so blunted, Thea could do something dreadful to me, but she’s not that sort of person. And if she cared about me deeply, personally, I might learn to tolerate the trap my life has become.

On this journey, I’m closer to attaining freedom than I’ve ever been before. At some point, I wonder if I’ll have to choose between my painstaking plans and ensuring Thea’s safety. She wants a home, a place to belong. And I want to be free. Even if she cared for me, I’m not sure those needs can be mutually met.

Gently, she wrings the water from my hair once she finishes. “How does that feel?”