Page 50 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

The breath of your whispered wish

A heartfelt toast shared between all involved parties

For this working, the dash of cinnamon can be added to anything you’re drinking, though it will seem most natural in beverages enhanced by such a spice. The spark can be a pretext of warming your drink, and then you propose the toast. Best to keep it simple. Soft with the magic, delicate as air. The warm feelings will come, as you drink and converse and find a compromise that tilts toward you. Be prepared to face aggression if someone feels you’ve influenced the outcome unfairly or tampered with their free will. This is the toast I use:

“May your troubles be less

And your blessings be more.

And nothing but happiness

Come through your door.”

It’s the toast I use at most gatherings, so people don’t bat an eyelash when they hear it. I’ll never forget the time we had guests at Miremorel. Food and wine for us to make merry, and you were supposed to be sound asleep by then. As I raised my glass, you scrambled onto the table and took the words right out of my mouth. You’re always full of surprises, my gem.

Thea

Briefly, I think about spicing my drink with cinnamon, but Tara has paged through the grimoire Da wrote for me.

She might realize what I’m doing, and if she agrees to help, it should be her decision, not even slightly influenced by my erratic magic. As we settle at the table she indicated, I contemplate Ragh. He was so hurt and angry that my hunger slipped its usual leash and I fed from him without meaning to, without needing to touch him. The hot prickle of shame digs into the nape of my neck like tiny claws.

Normally, I control myself better.

But I’m always starving, a bottomless pit that can’t be filled. I’m wrongly made, awful and misshapen, and I should have asked permission. It might not go well for me if anyone realized. The fae are prickly, and I never forget for an instant that I wasn’t born here. That they could banish me on a whim for any reason or none at all. It feels like the threat’s always existed, silent and unspoken, but now it’s been read out in a guaranteed promise of doom. I must be careful at all times. Not too needy. Not too hungry. Not demanding more than anyone can give when what I really want is an emotional feast, for someone to throw wide their heart and invite me eagerly to devour everything.

Kerboros chooses to sit beside me, and in my peripheral vision, I see him studying me with an intensity that makes it difficult for me to turn my head. Instead I watch Tara deftly filling our mugs at the bar. He clears his throat, and I still don’t look. Intentionally not looking. Somehow I’ve become awkward and tongue-tied around him.

After what nearly happened in the market, I’d rather straddle his lap and nibble his neck. I want to find out if his stern mouth turns to silken heat under mine. I want—

Oh, stop torturing yourself. There’s Tara.

She bounds toward us with a graceful stride that doesn’t even rattle the glasses. The other fae speak unkindly of hobgoblin allure, but Tara is lovely, just as Da is the definition of dapper. Today, she wears a splendid skirt that bells about her generous hips, bright as a sunbeam in yellow, and the white blouse she’s tucked into it shows the pretty curve of her shoulders. Even her apron is cute, deep green striped with pale gray.

“Here we are. I’m so happy to see you! How long has it been?” she asks.

I shake my head as I divvy up the drinks. “I don’t remember. It feels like forever.”

“So,” she says, plonking onto the opposite bench, “tell me everything.”

Kerboros stays quiet, so I do the talking, giving her an abridged version of our current situation. Her eyes widen as the story unfolds. I finish with “And that’s where we are.”

She shakes her head. “Those pookas would have been fine. Aggravated but fine. I love you, but you’re so impulsive.”

That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

But before I can speak, Kerboros does. “In Thea’s defense, the Winter Court would have proceeded to barter her to the Summer Court even without that complication.”

I turn to him, pleased and stunned in equal measure. “You don’t think I instigated this entire situation? Really?”

“Of course not,” he practically snarls. “They’re using you. As they use everyone.”

Tara waves a hand, taking a sip of her drink. “Details. I’m used to dealing with the consequences of Thea’s actions.”

“Wait, are you—”

“Our actions, ordinarily,” Tara clarifies. “I was always in it up to my neck, and I never learned to back down when we dared each other either.”

“As I recall, it was your idea to hide all the royal sheets in the stable loft,” I remind her, exercising all my inner fortitude to restrain a chuckle.