Page 38 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Kerboros

“Only if we stand still long enough,” Zeph replies.

I would like to say that it will be easy to get rid of Zeph, but I suspect that we’ve acquired a shadow; I can either use them or get accustomed to being annoyed. I have existed in the latter state for a long time, and this could be intentional surveillance. I don’t believe in coincidence.

They may have been dispatched by Liskaal or his evil queen, Valnevi. That seems like the most probable explanation. The Lord of Winter does not enjoy leaving me to my own devices, as my awful cousin seems to think that I will foment a rebellion given the least opportunity. Just like my father. Liskaal has no clue what I’m really up to, or he would be far more worried. My schemes have nothing to do with ruling the realm and everything to do with—well, sometimes it’s better not to think too hard on your own intentions. You never know what abilities others might be hiding.

“Let’s go,” I snap.

I will not meet my end digested by flora. All around, the flowers are stirring. They don’t seem to be ambulatory, but they are hungry, snapping as we pass. As I get moving, I draw my weapon and ensure that Thea is with me.

She’s right at my back, and Zeph must be behind her, as their quicksilver presence registers at the rear of our group. Rosalina flutters ahead as a scout, calling out directions. She guides me right and left as more plants awaken.

It occurs to me that I’m putting an unusual amount of faith in a stranger and spare the energy to hope this pixie isn’t trying to murder us. Flowers lunge as I race past. I try to turn to check on Thea, but I pay for breaking focus when I veer too close and one of them sinks needle-sharp teeth into my arm. I swiftly slash myself free, and the snapping flower mouth lands behind me, still twitching. Thea vaults it while Zeph skirts around, and I wheel, sealing my hand over the wound.

I keep moving, blood steadily seeping through my fingers. That enflames the flowers, who let out hungry hissing sounds. Since Rosalina didn’t slow when I was bitten, I can barely see her. I can’t hear her calling out directions either. The end of the meadow isn’t far, but I can only guess at the best route, and sometimes I’m wrong. I slash a path with my dagger, my forearms bitten as I go. At first, it’s an endless battle.

Rosalina finally notices that we’re in trouble and circles back. “All you had to do was keep up. What’s the matter with you?”

I’m too busy slicing to spare her a sharp look. More and more flower heads hit the ground. I’m starting to enjoy this. As we go, the smell of their own fluids makes the feral blooms wary, and we eventually pass from the carnivorous flower field. Since I was leading the charge, I’m the only one who’s been harmed. What are a few more scars atop the ones I already possess? I quickly scan Thea from head to toe, confirming that she’s unharmed.

And she catches me. Her gaze settles on mine, and she cants her head, asking a silent question. I don’t know what I’d say, if we didn’t have two onlookers. The truth would doubtless shock her greatly—that I care more about her continued safety than my own.

Then she makes a bold move, signing, I’m all right. Were you worried?

I dip my chin ever so slightly. It’s a barely there nod, the faintest acknowledgment of what I feel for her, and my heart skips at the prospect of growing closer to her through this admission. When I begin to fear what my face may reveal to her, I turn to study the landscape. The flat plain has given way to uplands, gently rolling hills covered in light-purple flowers. These don’t look aggressive at least.

Rosalina is circling the area, studying the terrain and the flora. “Lavender boscage. And cobalt summercomb.”

It’s beautiful in the distance, but I am not a botanist. I cannot imagine why that’s significant. “And?”

My injuries sting.

“Doesn’t that mean we’re closer to the Summer lands than Springtide?” she asks.

Oh. Now I comprehend her line of thought. Faery is a series of joined territories with thin boundaries leading to other spaces or zones entirely; it can be confusing. But she can identify the region based on the summercomb. As I understand it, the realm has driven more than one mortal cartographer mad.

Thea scrutinizes the area as well. “Is that right, Rosalina? We’re near Summer?”

“Call me Rosa,” the pixie says.

“I didn’t have a chance to say so before, but it’s nice to meet you.” Thea is skilled at making people warm to her, and the pixie is no exception.

“It was hectic, sure enough. Maybe we’ll get along,” Rosa says.

“That’s a nasty bite.” Zeph looks like they might poke the injury, so I step back.

“Oh no.” Thea rushes over. “How bad is it?”

“I need only a respite, and I can heal myself.” Now that I’m no longer running for my life, I can clean the wounds and—

Thea takes my wounded arm, and I let her. Experiencing her touch is worth suffering a little. She has a strip of damp linen cloth, and she carefully blots away the blood, seeming anxious as she checks for foreign matter. She meets my gaze with a tender aspect while pressing gently. “I thought some of those plant teeth might be lodged in here. Do you feel anything?”

I can’t answer the way I want to, and my heart is racing. “It’s fine. I can do it.”

She offers me some water.

I accept the flask and sip from it, gathering the strength to address all the little cuts. “Your kindness is a gift.”