Page 51 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

Kerboros stares. “That was the two of you?”

“No sheets were harmed, and the brownies magicked them clean,” Tara says swiftly.

I take a sip of the cider. It’s cool and refreshing, just the right tang from fermentation, and I roll my shoulders. Now that we’ve found Tara, things should improve. People find her ebullience irresistible, and while some think I have a way with people, Tara outclasses me.

“I hope you will consider the request. Thea needs you.” Kerboros maintains a severe mien, even as he advocates for me.

When he first tracked me down with the pookas, I could never have imagined this. Whatever’s blooming between us. This yearning is far more potent than the cider I’m sipping, sweet and lush and exquisitely forbidden.

“Before I agree, I need to know something.” Tara turns to me with a somber look, eyes locking onto mine. “And I’ll know if you’re bamboozling me.”

“Go ahead.” Suddenly, I’m nervous without knowing why.

“Do you want this marriage? I mean truly.”

How can the answer be yes?

I’ve never met Devan J. Fenelon, who apparently loathes me so much that running away seemed like the best option. It stings, remembering how Lady Valnevi said so in the great hall. While Lord Winter obsesses about conspiracies—some deep and intricate Summer plot to incite a war between factions—I fear I know the truth. The stories have preceded me, and rather than insult Lord Liskaal, Devan has elected to flee. Given the option between life forever in flight and me, my prospective spouse chose to become a fugitive. My pride would be battered to bits if I let it sink in.

I glance around to make sure nobody is paying us any particular attention. Then I shake my head. “What I want is to escape. You weren’t wrong when you said you’re an expert at getting me out of trouble. Lord Liskaal wants to embed me in the Summer Court, and I can’t find a way out of this. Kerboros was correct when he said I need you.”

Tears fill my eyes, but before the first can fall, Tara moves around the table to wrap a warm arm around my shoulders. “You can’t cry. I haven’t even started the negotiations. If you start bawling, I’ll feel too guilty to demand the right to name your firstborn.”

“Is that what you want?” Kerboros asks, seeming shocked.

I emit a shaky laugh, wiping my eyes, and make a counteroffer: “Second born, and the child has the right to review the name and approve it when they come of age. I haven’t forgotten that you named our stable cat Yardlad.”

Tara laughs. “It was so funny when tongues got twisted and they’d call him Lardyad.”

“I had an uncle named Lardyad. Venerable soul,” Kerboros says in a stricken tone. “Show some respect.”

I blink. “Really?”

His face doesn’t change. Still, that impenetrable stare. Then: “No.” And his mouth, ever so slightly, curls up on the ends.

A joke? A smile? What in the world is happening here?

Tara chuckles. She doesn’t seem to realize how momentous this is. “Though it goes against my better judgment, I’ll accept your terms.”

I burst into tears then. Kerboros leaps to his feet as Tara enfolds me in her arms. She thumps my back gently, and my head droops to her shoulder. Her familiar scent comforts me as few things could; maybe only a hug from Da would feel more like home.

“What did you do to Thea?” a sharp voice asks.

Blearily, I peer over her shoulder and find a strange pixie hovering nearby. One beat, then two, and I realize this is Rosa, though she’s changed her appearance again, different still from when we parted. Zeph is with her, still wearing the disguise they chose earlier.

“Friends of yours?” Tara asks.

I point. “Zeph. Rosa. I mentioned them before.”

“Then the first round is on me. You’ll have to pay for room and board tonight, and I won’t be able to join you. My father won’t be delighted that I’m haring off on adventures again just as he thought me committed to settling down.”

“Oh no.” I sit back, frowning. “Do you want me to come with you? Explain things.”

“No offense, but it will be better if you’re not involved in this conversation.”

Chagrined, I hunch my shoulders, aware that Tara’s rather staid father considers me a bad influence. “I understand.”

“I’ll cover our meals and lodgings,” Kerboros offers.