A Spell for Mischief and Mishaps
I’m sure you’re surprised to see a spell along these lines.
But sometimes, people need to be reminded that everyone’s the same.
We all have hopes and dreams, and they need to drop their fancy cake or spill their wine at some formal occasion.
Even better if it ruins an expensive outfit.
This spell won’t call a plague to their houses or burn anything down, but…
Tripping at the wrong time. Dropping something important.
Knocking things over at the worst moment. Oh yes.
I call this working the Great Equalizer.
Nobody looks important with a sticky pudding down the front of their vest, do they?
Only use this if you’re aggrieved and fed up with someone’s nonsense.
Unlike most, I’d caution you not to put too much of yourself into it, lest someone trace the mischief back to you.
It’s best to go gently and wait. The mischief will find its time, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be around to see it.
If you’re even luckier, you’ll only hear about it and escape all blame.
This one is best cast in the dark. You’ll require:
A sharp piece of black tourmaline, uncleansed
Rue, hyssop, and wormwood
A malachite mortar and pestle
One large hawthorn leaf
Grind up the herbs with the mortar and pestle until they turn into a paste.
Use the black tourmaline to write a single word on the hawthorn leaf, something simple, like: Fall.
Trip. Spill. Picture the spell’s recipient clearly in your mind, then use your magic to incinerate the leaf until not even embers or ashes are left.
There should be only smoke on the wind, winging its way toward your target.
Cleanse all your tools thoroughly afterward, both the tourmaline and the mortar and pestle.
You might also wish to do a cleaning ritual for yourself as well because you don’t want spells of this sort traced back to you, my gem.
Once those matters are tended, wait. It may not happen immediately, but wild spirits have a good sense of comic timing.
In my younger days, I had more fun than I should admit with this one, and you take after me in that respect.
When you were just a tyke, you toddled to the palace kitchens and took a single bite from every pastry you could reach.
It was sheer chaos, and I laughed myself sick.
Thea
“How do you know so much?” I demand.
Soft, silken laughter surrounds me as I spin in all directions.
I wake in the loft, heart thundering, though I’m not sure if it’s fear or excitement.
The morning is quiet, and since the windows are narrow, more designed for ventilation than viewing, they don’t let in much light. Already, the dream is fading, drawing me back from the brink of some vital realization.
I need to…what?
The voice seemed insistent that something must happen, but I’ve lost the thread. Before I can pull the skeins of my unraveling thoughts together, two ferocious thumps sound at the door.
“Already?” Da mutters. “T’isn’t even fully done dawning.”
“Open the door, hob.” That scowling tone belongs to Kerboros; it can be no other.
I bristle at the implicit insult in that manner of address and launch myself down the stairs.
There are few souls in the Winter Court who irritate me as much as Lord Liskaal’s hound.
Despite the fresh understanding I received yesterday, he still treats people terribly.
Since he’s suffered, he ought to know not to vent his spleen on those who had nothing to do with it.
But Da opens the door with his customary good nature. “What do you need, then?”
“Thea’s presence is required in the great hall. Immediately.”
My dad immediately protests, “She hasn’t eaten or washed. Give us a bit.”
“Five minutes.”
It’s more of a concession than I expected, but I’m glad for these moments. Last night, I meant to ask, but my head was so spun, I forgot. I’m aware we have curious ears, so I ask Da silently, The lord and lady seemed surprised to see you last night. How did you get out?
He levels a long look on me, and then he mind-sings, Erdene. She’s more than she seems. She’s an important friend, my gem. Don’t ever cross her.
“You’re wasting time,” Kerboros says.
“I’m going.” The last thing I want is for Da to end up in the cells again. I find comfortable clothes tucked at the back of the loft and shimmy into them as fast as possible. If only I could retrieve the wispy fragments of the dream. It feels important.
With a silent look of reassurance, I hug my dad, lingering to enjoy his familiar comforting smell and the warmth of his hand patting my back. I mind-sing, I’ll come out on top. Who raised me?
That’s my girl, he sings back.
As I follow Kerboros out, an imp of mischief takes me.
I’m famished after yesterday’s shenanigans, and I feel like messing with him.
I stare at his wide back, armored in dark leather, and flex my fingers until a shimmer of power responds.
Nothing a fae would notice, because it’s innate and mine.
There’s a blood-bright ember of rage burning inside him, and I have a little taste. Hot as fire, deep as death.
Mmm. Kerboros is heady.
His steps slow. And he turns to me, a frown wavering between his fearsome brows. “I might have been discourteous when I relayed Lord Liskaal’s instructions.”
“You could apologize to Da,” I suggest. “If you regret it.”
“I will do so.”
I draw a little more as we walk, feasting until the top of my head tingles. Kerboros is a veritable river of wrath, and it’s fascinating to watch his body language shift. Soon, his shoulders ease, and his movements become…languid, for want of a better word.
If I didn’t know better, I’d say that he’s almost smiling.
“I had forgotten what this feels like,” he says in a wondering tone.
“What?”
“Peace.”
He lowers his head, just once, as if basking in the sensation. Then his gaze hardens. “Don’t do this again. Without my edge, I am a pet, nothing more.”
I didn’t think of it that way. “I apologize. Normally, I only skim a little and not very often. Around here, there’s no shortage of arguments, conflict, and chaos.”
“You keep blood from being spilled,” he says matter-of-factly.
“It is well-known. That is why Lord Liskaal has forgiven you for so many absurd stunts. He knows that enemies who think to strike at him here will have their venom sipped away without realizing why. And then the toothless serpents may nip, but without impact.”
This is the longest conversation I’ve ever had with Kerboros.
“I thought I was a nuisance.”
“Sometimes. But irreplaceable as well.”
No one’s said that to me before. At least, outside of Da, who thinks I’m all the lights of heaven, a treasure, and a gem, all lovely, shining things.
Before long, we reach the great hall, and I pat my dark curls. That’s as good as it gets.
This morning, Lord Liskaal and Lady Valnevi are alone, no courtiers to get in the way. Kerboros remains by the archway, leaving me to approach on my own.
“Thea,” Lord Liskaal says.
I bow. “How can I serve?”
They swap looks, and then Lady Valnevi says, “Your marriage should have sealed the peace between two courts, and now your partner has run away, possibly at the sight of you. What do you think we should do in such a situation?”
I manage not to flinch. I’ve heard worse. “I’ll find them.” The words burst out before I fully realize my intent to speak.
It’s like I’ve been prompted by the voice in the dream. Now I remember them exhorting me to volunteer before…
I don’t know. I can’t recall.
But I feel like the consequences will be dire if I don’t step up.
“On your own?” Lady Valnevi doesn’t seem impressed with my offer. “When our best trackers cannot follow their trail?”
I glance at Kerboros, who remains impassive. Does that mean he failed to find the traces of their passage?
He gives nothing back, just a figure staring straight ahead. In the brighter light of the great hall, the configurations etched into the dark leather of his armor gleam faintly with silver, and I’m a bit fascinated by the pattern. Is it a leaf or a flower or a tracery of—
“Thea.” Lord Liskaal’s stern rebuke for not paying attention is shaped like my name.
“I use other means,” I say. “I’ll find…” Oh no. I’ve forgotten my spouse’s name. “The Summer fugitives. I’ll assemble a team.”
Lord Liskaal seems to make a snap decision.
“You may recruit no more than four people, Kerboros will accompany you and make regular reports.” The Winter King pauses.
“This is your last chance to prove your worth to the court. If the alliance fails and we go to war, we will have no need for one who pacifies our enemies.”
Right. Because you’ll be killing them. And Winter enjoys its little cruelties, but they aren’t so depraved that they’d chop up foes who have lost the will to resist.
But maybe failure isn’t such a bad thing? I can permanently live in the wild. And—
“Before you decide that this mission is not critical to your happiness, understand that we mean there will be no shelter for you anywhere in our demesne. Not in the wildlands, not in the four courts,” Lady Valnevi says.
My breath catches. “The mortal realm is a death sentence.”
“Then you grasp the stakes,” Lord Liskaal says smoothly.
I bow again, seething silently.
Then I back out of the room and save my outrage until I round the corner. Arching my back, I tilt my head to the ceiling and open my mouth in a scream that I can’t voice. Kerboros looms behind me, a royal shadow cursed to serve as well.
“We should source provisions,” he says.
Experimentally, I sign, I hate them so much.
But he only stares at me, hands still as stones in a pond at his sides. I guess he doesn’t understand the quiet tongue of the wild fae. That will make it easier to communicate with others in front of him.
“Like what?”
I’ve never taken gear into the wilds, and I never have trouble finding food or friends or a place to rest my head.
The scowl returns. “Are you being intentionally obtuse?”