A Spell for Regret and Remorse
My gem, this may come as a shock to you, but I’m not perfect.
I muck things up now and again, and while I’m always sorry, sometimes it doesn’t change the outcome.
When people are hurt, the results matter more than my intentions.
Yet guilt can consume you when you allow it to.
Since I’d rather you avoid that torment, I’m offering a spell that may grant your heart peace in times like this.
It’s important to acknowledge your part in what went wrong, but if there was no malice in your mind at the time, you can admit that you caused harm without carrying that shame with you until the end of days.
This may not be possible, but gather those involved in the event.
First, apologize sincerely. They’ll know if you mean it, and while forgiveness isn’t owed, you can take comfort in the fact that you did the right thing.
You don’t control how other people react, only your behavior.
So we start by offering contrition. If they feel so moved, once you’ve spoken your piece, then invite them to participate in this ritual with you.
This spell can be cast at any time; that’s the magic and the beauty of it. You’ll need:
All willing involved parties
Hyssop, cinnamon, comfrey
Clean water
A vessel to make tea
The tools here are less important than your intentions.
This brew might be strong tasting, and you might need to sweeten it, if possible.
If it isn’t, you don’t need to drink the entire cup.
Simply sipping the drink you made together and talking honestly will comfort everyone.
I hope your hearts feel lighter once you do.
The pain should ease by the third sip, and if you feel like ending the ritual with a hug, that will feel even better.
I remember the first time you fought with Tara.
Do you recall what it was about? I confess that I don’t, as I came on the scene late with the two of you sobbing like your hearts would break.
We had this tea that day, along with honey wafers and cheese toast. You were laughing together again by bedtime.
Thea
“I’m so sorry,” I say immediately, as soon as Tara pulls me from the group.
I notice the tear streaks on her face, and I take a step, meaning to hug her, but she holds up a hand. “Not now. What happened back there?”
“I don’t know,” I whisper, misery lacing my tone. “I touched Tempest to keep them from falling, and something came over me.” I can’t explain that hunger, even now. “There was an unusual quality to their energy.”
It’s not a justification, certainly not.
Tara sighs, shoulders rounding. “They are mysterious. I don’t even know where they’re originally from.”
I blink at that. “Not Summer, then?”
“No. They’re maddeningly reticent about their past. And I thought they’d open up in time, if I was patient. Instead, they ended things between us.”
“Without explaining anything?”
She nods. “It’s dreadful, not knowing if they’ve recovered.”
From the harm I did.
I flinch and produce my spellbook from a small shoulder bag. “Would you consider doing this spell with me? We’ve done it a few times over the years.”
Though I seldom let anyone look at this book Da wrote especially for me, I hand Tara the tome and show her what it says. Her aspect softens. “I remember why we were fighting. You wanted to steal all the dough from the palace kitchen and put it in the wishing fountain to see what would happen.”
I cringe at the reminder. It’s coming back to me. “And you said that it might be funny, but it was a waste of food and hard work and we might get the cooks in trouble.”
“You said I was mean,” Tara reminds me.
“Then you called me a knobhead.”
She laughs, which I’ll take under the circumstances. “We insulted each other until we both got so mad that we burst into tears.”
“That’s when Da came in and we had tea. I have the ingredients right here.” I pat the pouch around my neck.
“You’ve already apologized for what happened with Tempest. And I have cups,” Tara says. “Very well. Let’s do it.”
We work quietly together until the tea is brewed. I didn’t recollect this part from when we were little, but Da was right. The brew smells strange, and the taste is medicinal. But it’s warm, and I listen as Tara begins to speak.
“Tempest…they’re important to me. We met in the market.
I stopped to see if they had anything that could improve the quality of wine starting to turn.
Amend the vinegary taste. My dad likes to cut corners,” she adds self-consciously.
“At first, we were friendly acquaintances, and then they distilled a decoction especially for me. For our wine issue.”
“Oooh,” I tease. “A custom concoction.”
Tara playfully makes a fist. “Shut it, or I won’t tell you anything else.”
But she doesn’t get the chance to say more. “I can’t believe you two ridiculous baggages are having a tea party,” Rosa snaps.
Her wings flutter faster than the eye can see as she zips back and forth, trying to rise over the fog. She finally swears, a series of vicious and venal curses that practically blister my ears. Mentally, I make notes: Gag-sacking seed jerker is a good one.
“It’s no good,” she growls. “I can’t get above it. It’s all around us.”
“Does anyone else smell that?” Tara asks, wiping the cups we just used.
Zeph glances around. “What? All I can detect is the dank water.”
“Something else, more like hops or yeast,” Tara answers.
“I can’t smell anything,” I admit.
Rosa glares at me. “You shut up. This is all your fault.”
I can’t even defend myself. We wouldn’t have had to flee from Summer if I hadn’t incapacitated Tempest. I wonder how they’re doing; I hope I didn’t hurt them too badly.
They didn’t seem sick, but sometimes it’s not obvious from looking.
Guilt rebounds, even after the ritual, and I crouch, burying my face in my hands.
Tara comes up behind me and puts a hand on my shoulder.
Then she raps on my noggin with her knuckles. “That’s enough. We have no time for self-blame past this point. It won’t change anything.”
That is partly why I adore Tara. She never lets me wallow. Somehow she manages to be both charming and pragmatic. I’m sure Toad in the Hole benefits from her presence on a daily basis. She pulls me to my feet, and I offer a hug again.
This time, she accepts it, and it means everything that she’s not afraid to touch me, after what I did to Tempest. I don’t know how I’d cope if Tara treated me like a monster.
She tries to keep our spirits up, and she’s telling an amusing anecdote about Nerys when it hits me. “Nerys,” I say, as she’s getting to the good part.
“What about her?” Tara gives me a confused look.
“Water is everywhere. I don’t know if the water here ever passes back to the wildlands, but if it does—”
“We can get word to Nerys!” Tara finishes, her citrine eyes sparkling.
I nod. “It might not help immediately, but it can’t hurt.
” Crouching down, I stir the water carefully with two fingers.
“Nerys? I don’t know if you’ll ever hear this, or how long it’ll be.
But this is Thea. Tara and I are trapped in the In-Between.
Can you please tell my dad…?” Here, I hesitate. “Tell him I love him.”
“That’s all?” Rosa asks.
“It’s everything.”
Tara goes next. “Nerys. This is Tara. I have my own message for my parents. I love them bunches, and I’ll see them again. Don’t know if it’ll be soon.”
Zeph joins us and takes a knee, earning a scoff from Rosa. “Nerys. You don’t know me, but my name is Zeph. Please tell Lady Mirralee not to worry.”
I blink at them. “Isn’t Lady Mirralee the queen of the Autumn Court?”
“Is she?” This blasted fae never answers a direct question.
With a muttered curse, Rosa shoots an arrow into the water. “Nerys. This is Rosa. Ignore all these sentimental saps. Send help!”
We wait for a while. But the brackish water doesn’t stir with anything like a reply, and Kerboros doesn’t come back.
“Has he left us?” Rosa asks aloud. “Found a way out on his own, and off he went—to report back to that asshole cousin of his.”
“He wouldn’t,” I say.
“Are you sure?” Zeph counters.
At first I want to say that I am. I’ve kissed him.
I wanted to do more. And over the time that we’ve been traveling together, I’ve come to know him.
He doesn’t seem like the type who abandons his responsibilities.
But he might view a trip to the In-Between as a chance to slip the leash.
If the hunter goes missing, who can the Lord of Winter send to track him down?
They do say this is where people who don’t want to be found go to get lost. So if Kerboros intended to run—to stop being Winter’s hound—this would be the perfect place to disappear forever.
“Even if he did run off,” Tara points out, “where would he go?”
Zeph sports a smug expression, a half smile on their lips. “Good question.”
I refuse to jump to conclusions, but it does feel like it’s been a while. There’s no way to track time in this place. It’s so featureless. Rocks and water and mist.
And that reminds me that we’re running out of time.
Endless setbacks and delays will end in failure—my dad in a dungeon and me dying in the mortal realm.
They will cut off Kerboros’s head. While I’m known for causing trouble, I also know when to stop.
And things have spiraled so far out of control that I’m scared to death.
“Maybe Kerboros got turned around,” Tara says. “No landmarks.”
“You’re suggesting our scout got lost?” Rosa asks.
Zeph’s semi-smirk blossoms into a grin. “Is that better than him abandoning us? I’m not certain we have use for a tracker who can’t perform.”
“I’ll take incompetence over betrayal any day.” Tara frowns in their general direction, but there’s no heat behind her gaze.
I can’t stop myself from defending him. “Not necessarily incompetence. I doubt he’s been here before. Magic must react differently. It’s more—”
“Any earthen lump knows that you don’t set out alone here,” Rosa counters.
Is she calling Kerboros an earthen lump? Oh no, she didn’t. I’m ready to fight.
Before the argument can escalate, Kerboros strides into the clearing. “The answer is neither abandonment nor incompetence. I could not find an obvious path out of here, but I did find…him. Convincing him to accompany me required some doing.”
A gnome steps into view behind him. “I can’t believe this. After all this time, people!”
Judging by her expression, Rosa is even more irritated. “Another mouth to feed, one who couldn’t even save himself, it seems.”
“Govannon,” the gnome says, bowing slightly, and it’s a courtly gesture, made more so when he sweeps off his hat.
The name tickles the back of my brain. I snap my fingers. “Ragh mentioned you!”
Suddenly, there’s a gnome beside me, though I didn’t even see him move. “Do you know him? Is he well?”
“He misses you,” I tell him.
Hollowed eyes well up with tears, and he presses a hand to his tattered vest. “I have no idea how long I’ve been here. It feels like forever, so I figured he had forgotten me. I can’t believe he’s still thinking of me.”
“He gave us the impression that you’re the love of his life,” Kerboros says.
“Is he truly still waiting? For me?” The tears spill over and run into his beard.
I hesitate, then pat his shoulder lightly. “He thinks you’re the one who’s moved on. He has no idea that you’re trapped here.”
“Speaking of moving on,” Rosa prompts, “we can’t wait around forever.”
“We could try to orient ourselves through magic,” Zeph suggests. “Kerboros seemed able to navigate despite the mist, and I presume he relied upon tracking magic to do so.”
I’m pretty sure Rosa would approve any plan Zeph suggests. “Let’s try.”
“What’s the worst that could happen?” Zeph says.