Page 17 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“How do you know so much?” I demand.

Soft, silken laughter surrounds me as I spin in all directions.

I wake in the loft, heart thundering, though I’m not sure if it’s fear or excitement.

The morning is quiet, and since the windows are narrow, more designed for ventilation than viewing, they don’t let in much light. Already, the dream is fading, drawing me back from the brink of some vital realization.

I need to…what?

The voice seemed insistent that something must happen, but I’ve lost the thread. Before I can pull the skeins of my unraveling thoughts together, two ferocious thumps sound at the door.

“Already?” Da mutters. “T’isn’t even fully done dawning.”

“Open the door, hob.” That scowling tone belongs to Kerboros; it can be no other.

I bristle at the implicit insult in that manner of address and launch myself down the stairs. There are few souls in the Winter Court who irritate me as much as Lord Liskaal’s hound. Despite the fresh understanding I received yesterday, he still treats people terribly. Since he’s suffered, he ought to know not to vent his spleen on those who had nothing to do with it.

But Da opens the door with his customary good nature. “What do you need, then?”

“Thea’s presence is required in the great hall. Immediately.”

My dad immediately protests, “She hasn’t eaten or washed. Give us a bit.”

“Five minutes.”

It’s more of a concession than I expected, but I’m glad for these moments. Last night, I meant to ask, but my head was so spun, I forgot. I’m aware we have curious ears, so I ask Da silently, The lord and lady seemed surprised to see you last night. How did you get out?

He levels a long look on me, and then he mind-sings, Erdene. She’s more than she seems. She’s an important friend, my gem. Don’t ever cross her.

“You’re wasting time,” Kerboros says.

“I’m going.” The last thing I want is for Da to end up in the cells again. I find comfortable clothes tucked at the back of the loft and shimmy into them as fast as possible. If only I could retrieve the wispy fragments of the dream. It feels important.

With a silent look of reassurance, I hug my dad, lingering to enjoy his familiar comforting smell and the warmth of his hand patting my back. I mind-sing, I’ll come out on top. Who raised me?

That’s my girl, he sings back.

As I follow Kerboros out, an imp of mischief takes me. I’m famished after yesterday’s shenanigans, and I feel like messing with him. I stare at his wide back, armored in dark leather, and flex my fingers until a shimmer of power responds. Nothing a fae would notice, because it’s innate and mine. There’s a blood-bright ember of rage burning inside him, and I have a little taste. Hot as fire, deep as death.

Mmm. Kerboros is heady.

His steps slow. And he turns to me, a frown wavering between his fearsome brows. “I might have been discourteous when I relayed Lord Liskaal’s instructions.”

“You could apologize to Da,” I suggest. “If you regret it.”

“I will do so.”

I draw a little more as we walk, feasting until the top of my head tingles. Kerboros is a veritable river of wrath, and it’s fascinating to watch his body language shift. Soon, his shoulders ease, and his movements become…languid, for want of a better word.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say that he’s almost smiling.

“I had forgotten what this feels like,” he says in a wondering tone.

“What?”

“Peace.”

He lowers his head, just once, as if basking in the sensation. Then his gaze hardens. “Don’t do this again. Without my edge, I am a pet, nothing more.”