Page 30 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

“True enough. But where’s the fun in that?” The words are light; the tone offers more complexity.

Since I often imply more than I’m permitted to express, I could infer any number of meanings. Perhaps Zeph means it’s not fun to hurt people if they’re not awake to react. That would never occur to Thea; I’m certain she thinks they mean there’s no pleasure to be gained from harming others at all.

I skim them from head to toe, trying to take their measure. They are elegant, no question, but in a casual, disheveled fashion, not with the studied grace of one who lives and dies on court opinion. Possibly, that untidiness springs from being lost in the wildlands and stumbling into one of Macha’s traps.

They are small and lean, neat rather than well muscled, with an angular face and large amber eyes. Their skin tone is on the lighter end of gold with a shimmer of metallic. Pointed ears, like many high fae, but a shock of greenish-gray hair. I can’t say that I have ever seen anyone who looks quite like this Zeph.

Nor can I place their accent. Autumn has a particular twang, and Spring offers a charming lilt. Winter imbues a certain crispness to the consonants. And Summer? Summer is all languid drawl. Zeph…is a mystery. Much like Thea.

I analyze their raiment, fine enough to pass in any of the courts, but not so luxurious that they seem to be high ranking. They wear loose trousers held up by glittering suspenders with crystal buckles adorning the shoulder straps. Their shirt is sleeveless, revealing intricate thorny patterns twining around their arms in varying shades of green: here, jade, there, sage, and a forest of vines around their wrists. The patterns flicker a little, dim, and brighten—magic, then—but perhaps muffled by this ensnarement.

“Concluded your inspection?” Zeph asks cheerfully. “Did I pass muster?”

“Don’t mind Kerboros. He thinks everyone is dangerous,” Thea says.

“He’s probably righter than you realize,” Zeph replies.

Thea laughs like they’re joking, but I don’t get the sense that they are. “How did you end up in here?” she asks.

Without waiting for the reply, she bounces to her feet, stretching with fluid moves that strike me as beautiful. When she bends and arches, her body is a poem, an ode written in lightning and air. I wish to capture her grace, carve it in wood or stone to see if her lines hold the same magnetism in stillness as they do in motion.

“I came in for a nap, of course. It’s such a peaceful spot. Nobody ever bothers me.” Zeph pauses, cocking their head as if struck by a thought. “You did come on purpose, didn’t you? Never tell me you’re stuck.”

The humiliation stings. I repress the urge to check for some large and unusual insect that might be causing this sensation, except we’re the ones captured in a terrarium. I fix my expression as best I can and let Thea do the talking. She seems to enjoy it.

She brightens. “Does that mean you know how to get out?”

“It’s simple once you learn the trick. You’ll kick yourself when you realize how easy it is.” I’m not imagining the edge of mockery in their tone or the significant flick of a look.

Zeph is desperately amused at my expense. Such tremendous entertainment to see Winter’s hound indefinitely detained by a vexatious swamp witch.

Thea glances between us, brow raised. Then she does something stunning. “We did the best we could, and we hadn’t given up. We were resting before round two.”

We. She’s taking my side.

I’m not used to being part of a we, however small the context. It gives me a quiet pop of pleasure, right in the center of my chest. If it wouldn’t make my affinity so obvious, I’d step closer to Thea to reinforce the impression of our unity. In fact, it takes all my self-control to stay where I am.

“You said yourself it is a peaceful place to nap,” I add.

“True. I was asleep when you got here, or I’d have given you a hint.”

“Were you?” I’m not smiling.

For once, neither is Thea. It seems as if she may think it’s strange that this fae could sleep through us calling back and forth, providing updates on all the areas we searched. But before I can question them, she appears to make a choice, and her expression melts into her customary sunny charm.

“You must’ve been exhausted,” she says, either choosing to believe them or pretending to. Since she’s navigated the Winter Court successfully, it could be either.

“You’ve no idea.” Suddenly, Zeph pivots and steps off the dock, dropping into the blue surface below. And disappears.

The water. The water is the portal out.

Without hesitation, I follow.

15

A Spell for Portals and Passage

Ever since you were a tiny thing, you’ve loved little more than going. It didn’t matter where. You were always enchanted by the prospect of the next journey, the next surprise, the next wonder to be uncovered. I loved taking those jaunts with you as you grew, teaching you about our world and the wild folk who dwell hither and yon. And as you’ve become independent, I also love keeping the porridge warm and a soft bed waiting for you after a good, long wander.