Page 53 of A Beastly Court

It’d been used.

Half of the stored energy was gone.

“Sawyer,” I exclaimed. “Did you see me use this? Magic doesn’t simply leak out of a crystal, and it was full when I tried to use it on you.” I winced. “Sorry about that, by the way.”

The tomcat shook his head. “I didn’t see you use it,” he answered. From his tone, it sounded like he was going to elaborate, but then he just didn’t. Instead he batted at an edge of paper birch that was curling away from the notebook binding.

With a flustered huff, I bit back down on the apple and continued sorting. I stopped chewing entirely when I unearthed the pristine moonflower from where it had been obscured by the crocheted sunny-side-up-egg pillow.

Shoving the apple into my mouth so I could use both hands, I frantically scooped up the flower and yanked the notebook out from under Sawyer’s paws. With the moonflower poised on my knee, I thumbed aside the thorn latch that kept the notebook’s covers closed and flipped through the pages.

“Where is it?” I muttered around the apple. “Where is it?”

Sawyer’s paw slapped down on a page, right over the topmost petal of a sketch I’d made of the moonflower.

I took another huge bite of apple before placing it on the nightstand. “Good kitty.” Then I smoothed down the pages and hunched over to read the entry left of the sketch:

The moonflower needs to be imbued with magic to activate the entirety of its healing properties. Flora says—

“Wait! My Flora? But she’s a honey badger!” I looked to the tabby tomcat for confirmation, but of course he didn’t know her like I did. Sawyer shrugged, confirming my suspicions.

Flora says there is no set amount—just feed it magic until the entire flower is glowing. Then add it to milk—fresh and warm is best for full potency—and submerge yourself to heal a corrupted magical core. Alternatively, sprinkle the infused milk over contaminated areas to dispel dark magic residue, blight, infestation, etc.

Note: can cause hallucinations. I saw Violet—

“Ha-cha!” I cried, springing upright on the bed and scrambling to catch the moonflower I’d launched into the air. Just the person—ghost?—I needed to talk to. If I truly was her heir, she would know a thing or two about becoming one with my oak tree. And maybe the moonflower would release the rest of my magic. Corrupted core wasn’t the same as a cursed core, but you never knew. “Sawyer, get the milk!”

“I don’t have thumbs,” he reminded me, tail swishing. “And that’s only enough to dunk your face in, if that!”

“Then it will have to do.”

“How are you going to heat it?” he asked. “The fireplace won’t light, and the entry says it needs to be fresh and warm. That milk’s not the freshest and it’s certainly not warm. You don’t want to waste the moonflower.”

Well the fire in the great hall wouldn’t obey me, and the one in the kitchen only roused at prescribed times so Mrs. Bilberry could cook, and I didn’t want to leave my bedroom and run into Ossian, anyway, so there had to be something in here that could be of use.

Chewing on my bottom lip, I surveyed the room, catching sight of the candelabra with its many stubs of yellow candles. Then I backed up a step to peer into the bathroom, right at that shiny copper sink basin.

Sawyer hunched into a ball at the sight of my half-crazed yet triumphant smile. “Wh-what?”

I snatched up the candelabra, the moonflower, the milk, then stuffed the tomcat under my arm before marching to the bathroom. “C’mon, little cat. Let’s go jury-rig a spell.”

With the sink stoppered and the lit stubs of the candles ringed all around the basin, their flames engorged by Sawyer’s lumosa dilitare incantation, the milk pooled inside was just starting to steam. By the Green Mother, it was so good to get back to my roots again, to perform actual spells.

Very, very carefully, I infused the sole moonflower with green magic. While my core was still suppressed by the remaining net, I was still stronger than I had been before, and I didn’t want the flower to burst.

Sawyer’s amber eyes widened as the petals glowed with an ethereal, silver light.

“It’s ready,” I breathed.

The cat hopped down from where he perched on the sink counter and trotted into the bedroom. “I’ll keep watch.”

“Thanks, kitty.”

The moonflower sparkled in the candlelight as it dropped like a falling star into the milk. On contact, the silvery pearlescent light transferred to the white liquid, and the moonflower sank below the surface like a stone.

I didn’t hesitate, gripping the edges of the sink and lowering my face after the flower. Not knowing what to expect and fearful to be weighed down by the thought that this was a fruitless endeavor, I chose to relax.

Intent is nine-tenths of magic, a distant memory reminded me. Well, my intent was for this to work, however that looked.