Page 44 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Peppermint, yarrow, and one pink rose petal

The spark of your friendship

Your cupped palm

This spell is simpler than most. Your bond and your intentions will do most of the work. In your cupped palm, place the moonstone, the peppermint, yarrow, and rose petal. For you, my jewel, this may be the difficult part, but focus as much as you can. The spark of your friendship should burn bright enough to consume the herbal components, but not heat the moonstone enough to burn you. You should have a warm stone and ashes in your hand, if the spell succeeds. Blow the ashes to the wind as you think of the friend you wish to see again. Then tuck the warmed moonstone against your heart. You should have a neck pouch among your bits and bobs that will allow you to carry it so. If you loosed enough of your affection, you should receive a sign that your friend is thinking of you before the moonstone cools.

Do you remember when you first met Tara? She was brand-new to Winter, and one of the court ladies was bullying you, demanding that you fetch and carry for her ride. Tara arrived with all her boxes, and that sly minx cast some mischief when she saw what was happening. That court lady tumbled headfirst into a horse plop, and my, how she screamed. You two were fast friends after that.

Thea

“Why not?” Kerboros asks.

To some degree, I understand his confusion. He’s likely not the superstitious type; he doesn’t believe anything particularly bad comes from challenging the universe. But I am that sort of person, always wary of grim omens and ill-starred signs. Maybe it comes from watching people’s faces, ever alert to a shifting mood that could threaten my existence. I can’t remember when I realized that I don’t belong here—I’m an interloper uprooted through the vagaries of fate—but it’s been a factor for as long as I recall.

I wave a hand, not wanting to get into it. “Never mind. It would take too long to explain.”

Making a concerted effort to shift my mood, I decide to be enchanted instead of anxious. I’ve never visited the Summer Court before. I gaze around in wonder. The marketplace smells of warm sugar and hints of fruit, probably from the stall a few steps away that has slices of peach drizzled with honey. They also sell various dried fruits, neatly labeled in decorative handwriting, in glittering jars, each a different hue. Though I was born in the mortal world—and promptly stolen from it—I don’t know how things look there. Somehow, I doubt common objects are as pretty as they are here.

Kerboros doesn’t seem as delighted as I am; his face is inscrutable. The plaza is noisy, merchants calling out to passersby, speaking silly rhymes to attract attention to their wares. Most of the custom appears to be from provisioners who work at the palace. Now and then, I spot folks who must be visiting from the wildlands, but I try not to draw attention to myself. It will ruin everything if I’m recognized.

Da once told me there’s a famous mortal poem about a goblin market. I got curious, and he traded one of his precious treasures to get me a little book of verses. I read it and found it prettily written but a bit long and entirely silly. As if goblins have nothing better to do, and most I’ve known aren’t interested in fruit at all, let alone using it to trick twitterpated maidens.

No, this particular market is full of all types of fair folk. There’s a stall selling pear and honey wines, another selling whimsical spun sugar shapes, creatures and flowers, that melt on your tongue in a burst of sweetness. I spot another vending hair ribbons that glitter in the light and another stall draped with silk spun from cobwebs. There are charmed objects too—a mirror that lets you glimpse your true love and a chalice that turns water to wine—and I’d love to spend hours browsing, but we don’t have the time.

My stomach lurches, reminding me that I’m not allowed to be here. Lord Liskaal would view this visit as treason, so I can’t get caught in the Summer lands. Neither can Kerboros. I don’t know if Liskaal’s spies managed to keep pace with us, and the uncertainty makes my stomach hurt. Why in the realms did Kerboros’s magic deposit us here? It’s like the universe wants us to fail.

When the anxiety pangs fade, I discover that I’m hungry. Again. But I can’t tell if it’s for food or life force.

“We should stop dallying and get to work,” Kerboros says.

“Right.” I sigh. I wish we could look around; it’s my first time at the Summer market, but there’s so much to lose. I made a kind choice before instead of a prudent one, opting to comfort him when he got trapped in the bottle. So it’s sensible to forgo amusement now. Everything has a price.

He gives me a searching look, and then his features relax into a half smile. “But there’s no reason we can’t combine investigation with exploration.”

Kindness from Kerboros? I feel like I’ve won a major victory without raising a sword, and I yield to my urge to celebrate, doing a happy little dance that makes him chuckle. I imagine reaching for his hand, lacing our fingers together, and enjoying the warmth of the day, with no other worries. Just the two of us.

My heart aches over how much I want these stolen moments with him. I can’t believe he’s the one who suggested we combine business with pleasure. If I let myself, I could get lost in him—in those deep eyes, a shade of gray that can gleam like silver or look dark as a storm cloud, depending on his mood. His whole face captivates me, its sharp lines softened by his current expression.

I clear my throat. “I’d like that.”

“You’re staring,” he murmurs.

I shouldn’t flirt. But then, I do lots of things I’m not supposed to. “Do you blame me? I have the most intriguing man in the Winter court all to myself.”

Kerboros pretends to look around. “You do? Where?”

Laughing, I nudge him lightly. “Don’t pretend. Not with me.”

He sobers, studying me with a steady regard. “I won’t.”

Suddenly, I recall how he held out a hand, waiting for me to decide whether I trusted him. Now I do the same. Kerboros doesn’t hesitate. His fingers twine with mine, and the warmth gives me a delicious tingle. I want those hands everywhere. Now there’s no hiding my smile as we walk deeper into the market, a trifle aimless, bound together in this moment because we’ve chosen to be.

We’ll ask about Tara as we shop; I’m excited to see her because it’s been a long time, but as soon as she joins the group, it will change the dynamic. Right now, I don’t know Zeph and Rosa well, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not deeply attracted to Kerboros. There’s something between us, a spark that could build into a blazing fire in a better time and place.

But Tara knew me when I was little, and she has some embarrassing stories to tell. Spirits save me, if she shares any of those tales… Well. I don’t want Kerboros to think badly of me.

No time for fretting. Better to accept this moment for what it is, precious and stolen.