Page 98 of The Hocus Pocus Handbook

When the new Lord of Winter glides through the crowd to join me, I feel like I could burst with joy.

44

The Way Home

This piece is so realistic that it looks like something that the artist carved from memory, not imagination. Shaped from fallen wood, this is a freestanding mushroom cottage. Honey hues imbues the creation with warmth, and the roof overhangs the walls with vertical slits beneath that mimic the gills of a mushroom, standing in for roof tiles. In a real structure, they might also offer ventilation.

The roof rises to a domed cap, and the doors actually open to reveal the incredible detail within. This seems to have been crafted in two pieces, lending it a three-dimensional coziness. There is a tiny hearth made of stone and the minuscule furnishings are meticulously sized to scale. Curved shelves line the walls with tiny artifacts set atop them as proof of a full and happy life. One might believe that tiny folk truly make their home in this magical, whimsical place. There is a small sign above the front door that simply reads, MIREMOREL. Below that, two words: WELCOME HOME.

Kerboros

I pull Thea from the edge of the gathering to the center, where she belongs.

As long as I live, I will not permit people to ostracize her or make her feel that she doesn’t belong because she was born somewhere else. Newcomers bring new ideas, though in truth, she’s essentially a native. She remembers nothing of the mortal realm, as she was stolen only a few hours after her birth.

Though I’m unaccustomed to attention and I never shared my father’s desire to hold the reins of power, I pitch my voice to carry. “First, I must say I didn’t seek this role.”

“People who don’t want power are the only ones who should have it,” someone calls. It sounds like Thea’s dad, but since Mudge isn’t tall and the crowd is huge, I can’t be certain.

“Agreed,” Zeph says.

I acknowledge them with a nod, then turn my attention to Thea. Since I’m already holding one of her hands, I take the other and raise it to my lips. This isn’t an arranged marriage. It’s not a marriage of convenience either, an agreement we’ll reluctantly sign to prevent worse consequences. No, I intend to make it clear to this assemblage that I chose her long ago and that I can imagine myself with no one else until the end of time.

“You have been ordered about your entire life,” I begin.

“So have you,” she says quietly. I might be the only one who hears it.

“And so, before this assembly, I must ascertain one thing beyond any shadow of a doubt. Do you want this? Do you wish to marry me? Forget the peace accords, Winter and Summer be damned. Do you want me?”

She smiles with her entire soul, a luminous glow behind her beautiful eyes. “Always. My answer is yes. I’m glad we can prevent further conflict, but you’re everything I ever wanted in a partner, and I’ve been searching for you my whole life. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you sooner.”

“Recognize me?” My voice lilts on the question.

“Yes. Soulmates should quicken to each other on sight.” Her smile says she’s teasing me, but the word soulmate fills me with joy.

Lady Mirralee interrupts the moment to decree, “Remove the exiles. Carry out the sentence immediately, before they seize an opportunity to escape and foment unrest.”

The former Lord and Lady of Winter are bound, both with magic and with cold iron, and the palace staff drag them from the great hall. Liskaal and Valnevi are still screaming in protest. I don’t watch them go. In fact, I only have eyes for Thea.

“It seems to me,” Pell drawls, “that we are dressed and gathered in a manner that’s entirely suitable for a wedding. Weddings always have cake! They should get married right now.” They glance around looking for support of the suggestion.

I tilt my head. “What do you think?”

“It’s a little sudden,” Thea says. “But I have no doubts about you. Or us.”

“A wedding!” Mudge shouts it first.

Others take up the cry. I hear Rosa and Taragon, louder than the rest. Lady Mirralee restores order by rapping on the table again. “This could have been a wretched ordeal, but thanks largely to Zeph’s machinations, it shall be a joyous one instead. Let us witness as Winter and Summer plight their troth. Then there shall be revels unlike any experienced in recent times.”

“After tonight, we’ll live as legends.” Lord Sorren speaks his agreement with what seems like a warm look at Lady Mirralee.

Yes, there’s definitely something between them. Though I have no proof, I believe Zeph has blood ties to both royal houses, Summer and Autumn, though they were raised by Lord Sorren. Perhaps Zeph has no desire to hold a title in either court. It occurs to me that they might have orchestrated all this to win their freedom by offering up me and Thea in their stead. It’s diabolical: a coup, a bait and switch, and a fox slipping a snare all at once.

Clever, clever Zeph.

Since I’m so pleased with the outcome, I don’t mind that they used both of us for their own ends. Lady Mirralee whispers to Leifan, who hurries to another staff member, and soon an entire regiment of workers is rearranging the look of the great hall, carrying tables to go with the seats, and someone has conjured lights, while a brownie hangs bright banners, and yet someone else hurries about with vases of fresh flowers.

In less time than I could have imagined, the sonorous speaker who announced all the arriving guests calls us to the center of the hall. “Lord Kerboros. Lady Thea. Please take your places and speak your vows before this assembled company.”