A Spell for Gilding and Glamour
You’re not interested in fancies and fripperies, but I can teach you how to make yourself into the brightest of diamonds.
At some point, you may want to look your best to captivate someone special.
I remember your first crush, my gem. You were devastated when that dryad said you were too young and she’d never leave her tree to be with you anyway.
Now, I do think your natural charms are enough, but should you wish a little boost, I’ll gift that knowledge. Here’s the working I used in my courting days. Strongest cast in the dark.
You’ll require:
A bowl crafted with rose quartz
Soap made with fresh rose petals, dried lavender, and lemon verbena
A flax towel hand spun by someone who loves you, warmed by a flame you kindled
A silver mirror to confirm your allure
For this working, you fill the bowl with pure, warm water. Lather the soap in your hands and wash your face gently. It’s part of the ritual, though the simple care may leave you glowing even without a glamour. You’re a beautiful soul, and it won’t take much magic for others to see you as I do.
Rinse the suds using the quartz bowl. Pat your face dry with the linen towel.
Take up the mirror and do three recitations.
Choose the features you love about yourself.
In my courting days, I said to myself, “Mudge, you’ve fine bright eyes.
And look at that magnificent hair! And that friendly smile.
Why, anybody would be lucky to get your attention. ”
Finally, know this: Anyone worthy of you won’t need a glamour to see your worth. They’ll know already, but there’s no harm in wanting to stand out. Use this working well, and know that my fondness for you knows no bounds, my darling daughter.
Thea
I’ve made it to the outskirts of the swamp when the air thins around me and energy crackles fiercely enough to lift my hair in the static charge.
This is such bullshit.
A moment later, a portal opens and Kerboros, House Winter’s enforcer, emerges.
His name is similar to a legendary dog Da told me about.
Humans believe it has three heads and guards the gates of the Underworld.
And to be honest, Kerboros has some qualities in common with a ferocious, bite-drunk cur.
It feels like cheating, how quickly he ran me to ground.
But then, the court and those who serve them have powers beyond my reckoning, most of which are used to keep the wild fae beneath their collective thumbs.
“Your presence is required,” he says.
Then he nudges me toward the portal. Kaleidoscopic energy swirls around me, bursts of color and pops of sound that leave me reeling; off-balance, I tumble into the courtyard with such force that I land on my hands and knees, scraping the skin.
Blood smears the ground when I brace myself.
I know better than to rise. My stomach churns.
Traveling this way is a good test of abdominal fortitude, as I’m a shudder away from tossing my guts on the paving stones.
I’m not sorry because the pookas were miserable, and my pride ranks below their sorrow, so I’ll apologize before anyone asks me to.
It’s not the first time. I’ve learned it’s helpful to pretend penitence eagerly.
As I raise my head, I realize the entire coterie is present.
Lord Liskaal and Lady Valnevi, encircled by courtiers and social climbers, regard me icily.
Small wonder, as I’m more of a tree climber, and today, I’m also smeared in green and brown goop.
I can’t wait to get this over with. I hope these two supercilious assholes exile me to the wildlands today.
Rain and Fen possess enough power to protect me from execution, but banishment from court?
Yes, please. And my so-called parents wouldn’t object to that decision.
For me, it would be a dream come true. Please send me to the wildlands with orders never to return. I’m so excited about the prospect that I could scream.
“You have despoiled what should have been a joyous and momentous occasion,” Lady Valnevi proclaims after a protracted silence.
Before I can say a word, she continues, addressing the court instead of me: “I should censure this scapegrace appropriately, but other matters weigh heavier for the nonce. We cannot allow inconvenience to destroy the accord we have so painstakingly brokered.”
I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I have a bad feeling.
“An accurate summation, and most generous, my love.” Lord Liskaal lifts her elegant hand and seals a kiss against her silvered glove.
Lady Valnevi gestures. “Take her. Have her washed. Everything shall proceed at midnight, as originally planned.”
Panic catches fire in my veins, and I lurch to my feet. Liskaal gestures, and his people march me toward the annex, where guests and less important visitors are housed within the royal compound. The crowd parts reluctantly, yielding only enough space for me to get knocked by shoulders and elbows.
The Lord of Winter makes one final command: “Make her presentable.”
Kerboros watches in silence, though his eyes flash.
And then he’s gone in a swirl of gray cloak; he’s all bronze and midnight, and I wish I’d managed to kick his shins.
In the Winter Court, most have raven-dark hair or a blue so pale, it gleams white.
There are variations in skin tone, with those of inky tresses having light skin and the blue-haired fae usually deep as midnight.
Kerboros is the rare exception, warm skin and raven hair and eyes gray as cloud cover.
The ladies and maids run the gamut in complexion, but I don’t recognize any of them.
“This way,” a court lady murmurs.
“Oh, you’re bleeding. Let me heal that first.” A brownie, bless her, appears from behind the rest.
She’s small and wrinkled as a nut, though that’s no indication of her age.
Deep-green hair curls all over her head, fine as moss, and she beams as a soothing warmth permeates my skinned palms and knees.
I know her. This is Da’s friend Erdene, someone I’ve known as not quite an auntie but who’s been kind when our paths cross.
“That feels better. You’re gifted.” My smile conveys appreciation, but I know better than to thank her.
Mortals who stumble into our world thank us for everything. Those words create obligations, offering proof of indebtedness, and once you’re locked into a bargain, it can be difficult to extricate yourself. I have no desire to work in the kitchen in Erdene’s stead while she lolls on a cushion.
Erdene bares her sharp teeth in a delighted smile. “Mudge has raised you well.”
Mudge is my real dad, in my heart’s core, but there are no documents binding us, nothing that proves we’re family, other than our love for each other. But the quickest way to make me smile is to praise him. “I think so too.”
Erdene turns to the others. “The rest of you, go. I’ll make Thea ready.”
At her touch, drowsiness suffuses me, and my muscles go lax.
My knees wobble as she guides me toward the bathhouse, the only aspect I like about the Winter Court.
The luxury is so excessive that it could steal your soul, all gleaming polished white stones and the cascade of steaming water from bright platinum pipes.
There are huge tubs with scalloped edges, one steaming hot, one comfortably warm, one icy cold, and so many magical unguents and potions devised to make one more gorgeous and glamorous.
Belatedly, I inquire, “Ready for what?”
“We’ll discuss that later,” she hedges.
Probably I should dig for more information, but Erdene herds me to the cascading water, and she has such big eyes.
They’re clear as topaz, fringed in a delicate web of green lashes, a shade deeper than her hair.
Though she comes only to my shoulder, she is, as many brownies are, deceptively strong.
Her grip tightens, though not enough to hurt me.
“A bath? Now?” I ask.
“You could use some looking after, my dear. How did you ever get so grubby?”
“I smeared myself with mud and moss on purpose.”
“Silly child.” But it’s a fond scolding.
Brownies can be nurturing, the flip side to their unruly streak.
I sigh and strip down, immersing myself in the silky, crystalline water.
I’ve heard the Summer Court has myriad natural beauties, but in the Winter Court?
Water is life, whether it’s free-falling in a sleeting rain, fluttering in snowflakes, or frozen solid.
She opens a pot, releasing the glorious fragrance of distilled dreaming dragonberry, a fantastical peppery sweetness that heats the skin.
There are crystals ground into the mixture, and she uses a hagstone to exfoliate until my skin feels brand-new.
Rejuvenated, I scrub away the grime and exhaustion so that my whole body tingles.
Afterward, I get a full beauty treatment, with Erdene massaging me with scented oil, anointing my feet as I sip some lovely floral tea.
The spices are bright and piquant, all yellow and gold on my tongue, so this must be a Summer import.
Winter teas tend to taste blue or green, sometimes with faint notes of purple.
I’ve never sampled black tea, though the humans supposedly have it.
I wonder how rich and delicious it must be, like drinking the night itself.
But while I daydream about the mortal realm sometimes, I don’t want to go there.
Da says they have nearly destroyed all their wild places, which means there’s nowhere I’d feel at home.
After the massage, Erdene smooths a bright blue mask upon my face and covers the rest of me with steaming towels.
An ice bath will follow; in the Winter Court, they believe it adds a glow in addition to all the magical benefits.
Normally, I would be fidgeting by now, but Erdene is humming the most soothing song, all soporific bliss.
I recline and wait until the hot cloths cool.
The cold plunge is shocking, but I do feel invigorated.
The brownie eyes me critically. “With your coloring, I think you’d shine in silver. What do you think, my darling?”
She holds up two gowns, neither of which I’d prefer to put on.
I was prepared for punishment, and while primping wouldn’t bother some folks, for me, it’s torture.
I want to object, especially to the pinchy shoes that I suspect Erdene will soon insist on, but I’m so sleepy that I can’t be bothered to complain. I stare muzzily at the dresses.
The first is ivory, and it has so many layers.
The thing is diaphanous, and if I wore it, I would feel like a cream cake adorned with curtains that belong in a maiden’s bower.
The silver dress is sleeker, with long sleeves and a fitted bodice, holding a delicate shimmer when the light glides over it.
Sometimes it’s matte and sometimes it’s a river.
“Definitely the silver,” I decide. “But what—”
“You must be hungry. How long has it been since you’ve had a bite?”
I struggle to hold on to the edges of my initial question. Or objection. What was I about to say, anyway? I can barely remember what Erdene asked now. Hm. I skipped breakfast, I think, and I walked for so long in the woods. All the way to the edge of the swamp. “I’m not sure.”
My head feels fuzzy, and I can’t remember what I intended to do before we got here. I’m getting ready for something important, am I not? That’s true as it can be.
“Let me send for some biscuits. And fruit, perhaps?”
“That sounds good.”
Erdene passes me some undergarments, and I sleepily start getting dressed as she moves off to whisper to someone standing outside the bath.
I ruminate on how Winter’s hound hunted me down without hesitation, how grim he looked when he herded me through the portal.
I’ve never seen the man smile, but when he looks at me, in particular, it’s like he chills even further, a glacier for a soul.
On her return, I ask, “Why does Kerboros hate me so much?”
“Don’t take it personally, my dearling. That one hates everybody.” She adjusts the strap on my underdress. “There’s a bit of unseemly gossip about him. Are you interested?”
“Yes, please.” I shimmy into the dress, eager for inside information. Brownies have all the best chatter, as the high fae tend to treat them like inanimate objects.
“His family’s related to Lord Liskaal, don’t you know, on the patrilineal line. And there was some ugliness, I’ve lost track of when. But rumor has it that our Kerboros feels that he’s the rightful Lord of Winter while being forced to serve.”
I stare, wide-eyed. “But that’s incredible. I’m surprised Lord Liskaal hasn’t had him executed or banished for his bad attitude.”
“Betimes, it’s best to keep your enemies close, and as Lord Liskaal compels Kerboros to hunt, the lord proves that Kerboros is his hound, and the owner never asks the dog if it’s happy to be chasing prey.”
“He’s angry because he’s powerless, then.” I instantly find it difficult to dislike Kerboros as much as I did before.
The assistant returns with a plate that Erdene accepts with a gentle smile. She turns to me again. “Indeed. Have a seat, eat your treats while I do your hair.”
Dreamily, I nibble at the sliced dew pear and honey wafers, so light and thin, they melt on my tongue in a pop of sweetness.
Erdene has a little basket full of trinkets that jingle merrily when she hooks the handle across her arm, and then her hands are so very busy.
I love when people play with my hair, and I’ve experienced that so seldom.
It requires no effort to let her tug and weave gently, murmuring as if I’m her doll.
At some point, I lose track of time, drowsing like a little sprite in the sun. She gives me a soft tap on the shoulder. “Finished. You look like a princess.”
Oh no.
No.
She’s not humming anymore, and my mind is clear as a bell. “You stupored me!”
“Just a little, my dearling. Didn’t you enjoy it?”
“That’s not the point!” I yank at the tight dress and touch my hair. Ribbons and gems, all cunningly interwoven into a complicated arrangement that would take me forever to unravel.
It’s as if I’ve traded places with the pookas.
“Tell me what’s happening at midnight.” My tone is cold as wrought iron, and I could happily freeze all the water in those pretty platinum pipes right now, if only my unpredictable magic would cooperate.
Erdene tilts her head and shows me her teeth, all softness gone. “Gladly. You’re getting married, my sweet.”