Glimmers of Thorns

by Emma Savant

  “What about you and Haidar?” I said.

  Fair was fair. She did mention him a lot.

  She snorted. “Yeah, right,” she said. “You wouldn’t ask if you’d met him. And speak of the devil.”

  She pointed a toe toward the end of the walkway, where a man with hunched shoulders came toward us like a storm cloud. He was tall, maybe in his thirties, with olive skin and unruly dark hair that went to his shoulders. He could have been handsome, but his grumpy expression killed the possibility. Under his bushy eyebrows, his face practically crackled with annoyance.

  “Who’s this?” he demanded before he’d even reached us. He glared at me. “Isabelle, I don’t pay you to waste time on park benches with high schoolers.”

  I raised an eyebrow. Nice to meet him, too.

  But Isabelle didn’t seem perturbed. She didn’t even shift on the bench. “This is Olivia,” she said. “The godmother, remember? We talked about this.”

  His scowl didn’t change, but his eyes looked slightly less likely to send lightning bolts my way. He grunted. “Who’s the boy?”

  “That’s my brother, Daniel,” I said. “He doesn’t know about any of this. Don’t worry, he can’t hear us from here.”

  “Yes, I can,” Daniel said, without looking up from his phone. “And yes, I do.”

  The air between us froze for a second before I whirled on him.

  “What?”

  He glanced up without moving his head. “It’s not like the Oracle problem is a secret,” he said. Under his breath, he muttered, “Genius.”

  I threw out a hand and slammed my energy through any radio waves and electromagnetic fields I could find. The air crackled around his phone and he looked up sharply. “Hey,” he said, anger edging his voice.

  “These are our allies,” Haidar said flatly. “Fantastic.”

  I glared at him. How did anyone that rude survive adulthood, let alone become someone’s boss? If I was Isabelle, I’d have quit.

  “Excuse me,” I said. I didn’t wait for anyone’s permission.

  Daniel stared at me as I approached him, his face blank, like nothing I could do or say could possibly impress him. I clenched my fists and resisted the urge to throw every fancy spell I’d ever learned right at his head.

  “You want to explain that?” I said, and dropped onto the bench next to him.

  “Explain what?” he said.

  “Don’t be cute,” I said.

  He rolled his eyes. “Do you seriously think you’re the only person who knows the Oracle might cause problems?” he said. “You’re not the only one who gets to watch Mom and Dad squawk at each other, you know. Anyway, it’s not like she’s real discreet.”

  I leaned in toward him. “What do you know?”

  “Same as everyone else,” he said. He shrugged. “The Oracle’s gotten too big for her britches. Queen Amani told the Council not to accept any more assignments from her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s worried the Oracle’s going to succumb to peer pressure?” he said.

  I frowned, and Daniel rolled his eyes.

  “The Oracle and Queen Amani and the Council are all big on us hiding from the Humdrums, right?” he said. “But a bunch of people aren’t down with that anymore, so they’ve been trying to convince the Oracle to reveal us all to the Hums, so we can live in the open and form a new world order or whatever.”

  I frowned. This was news to me.

  Why was this news to me?

  “Why would they try to convince the Oracle?” I said. “She doesn’t have that kind of authority.”

  Daniel snorted. “But the Oracle likes attention. Obviously she’s not going to give in. But she’s definitely giving the idiots more of an audience than Queen Amani would. It makes them hopeful.”

  Truth had mixed with rumor, but still, Daniel knew way more than I’d thought possible.

  “When did Queen Amani tell the Council to stop taking Oracle jobs?” I said.

  “Do you ever listen when Dad talks?”

  “Does he ever say anything worth listening to?” I said.

  “Decent point,” Daniel said.

  He jabbed a button on his phone. The screen stayed dark.

  “Like, months ago,” he said. “Queen Amani warned everyone on the Council that the Oracle might be pressured into something. She didn’t explain what ‘something’ meant but Dad sounded like it wasn’t good, and it’s not hard to figure out from the Oracle parties.”

  “What the hell is an ‘Oracle party’?”

  His jaw dropped, just a little too far for me to think he was experiencing any kind of genuine surprise. “Oracle parties,” he said. “Where groups of Glims get together and openly perform magic around one of her fountains? To show support for the goal of an openly Glim population? Grassroots politics? Anything ringing a bell?”

  It rang more than a few.

  How had I gotten so behind the times?

  And why had Amani not talked to me about any of this?

  I frowned and waited for more information, but he just stared at me with his eyebrows raised.

  “Good to know,” I finally said. He held up his phone, and I wiggled my fingers in the air to loosen the electrical currents back up. “Thanks,” I said.

  “Any time,” he said. “I could just walk around and point out obvious things that are happening if you want.” He took on a dorky voice that made him sound like some hillbilly cartoon character in patched overalls. “The sky is gray today, Olivia! It looks like it might rain! Look, we’re surrounded by rose bushes!”

  I was never taking him anywhere again.

  “Clever,” I said. “Real clever.”

  I stood up and walked away. But his voice stopped me.

  “What?” he said. “You don’t want to talk about the ring you keep trying to call Queen Amani with?”

  I felt myself change colors.

  “What do you know about that?” I hissed.

  “I saw you,” he said. “You were talking to it the other day. You said, ‘Hey, Amani, just checking in, I haven’t heard anything new but I’m going to be meeting with Isabelle again.’ Something like that. Super discreet.”

  “That doesn’t mean it was Queen Amani,” I said.

  “You obviously can’t see your face right now,” he said.

  I was about two seconds away from strangling him. He continued to play on his phone like we were talking about the weather.

  “Daniel,” I said. He grunted to show he was paying attention. “Daniel,” I repeated. “You cannot tell anyone about this.”

  “Duh,” he said. He tapped a few times on the phone screen and then looked up. “So, you going to introduce me to your friends or what?”

  Chapter Seven

  “This is Daniel,” I said. Above me, the sky remained as flat and gray as my voice.

  Isabelle leaned forward on her bench and offered Daniel an encouraging smile.

  Haidar just glared. “You’re here to help Isabelle save the world,” he said finally. “What a relief.”

  “Don’t get smart,” Isabelle said. She leaned back onto her bench and folded her arms, which were lost in her oversized moss-green hoodie. “You’re still helping me, too.”

  “I’ll have to.” Haidar’s dark eyes fixed on me, then Daniel. “Otherwise, it’s you and two squabbling teenagers against the Oracle and you’ll get yourselves killed.”

  “Naw, you can go,” Daniel said. “You’d just spend all your time making smart-ass comments and slowing us down.”

  I smacked his shoulder.

  Haidar barked a laugh. “You’d know about those,” he said.

  Isabelle groaned. “Haidar, I swear you’re the most immature person here and these two are teenagers. Go away.”

  He turned on me instead.

  “So why do you keep trying to absorb my roses?” he demanded.

  “Um, what?”

  “You,” he said. “Keep trying to absorb the magic coming off my roses.”


  I glanced over my glasses at the nearest bush. Nothing came off it, magic or otherwise.

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  How did Isabelle put up with having him for a boss? Her job must be miserable.

  He folded his arms and nodded his chin at me. “Your aura keeps reaching out toward my roses,” he said. “Sniffing them like a dog. You don’t even know it, do you?”

  “Obviously not,” I said.

  I wished he’d go away and let Isabelle and me get back to “saving the world.” Daniel was right: Haidar wasn’t going to be any help.

  Haidar scowled at me. Isabelle cleared her throat. She jabbed her finger toward the nearest rose bush, her eyebrows raised like he was a total moron.

  He coughed and waved one large hand over the bush. It shimmered. A fine glittering layer of what looked like dark pink ice appeared on the branches.

  The second I saw it, I felt the pull. Something about the ice drew me; I wanted to touch it, even to taste it.

  Haidar grunted. “We keep it glamoured.”

  “People used to come to the garden to steal rose magic,” Isabelle said. She reached out to the bush and ran a finger along the branch. Sparkling pink flakes tumbled lightly to the ground. She held the finger out to me, and I touched the magic.

  It felt sweet in a way I couldn’t explain, as if the skin on my fingertip had grown tastebuds. I sniffed it and the scent of roses wafted up toward me. That was predictable. The rush of power that followed it was not. The magic entered through my skin and nose. My skin flushed with strength.

  No wonder part of me had been reaching toward it.

  “That’s crazy,” Daniel said. He touched the bush without asking and sniffed the magic that came off on his fingers. “Whoa. Do all flowers do this?”

  Haidar snorted. “Do all flowers do this?” he repeated mockingly.

  “No, they don’t,” Isabelle said, much more gently. “Not even all roses. We cultivate a few special kinds here.”

  “Spenican,” I said, remembering the word from the Imperial College website.

  “I wish!” Isabelle said, eyes widening. “No, those take more energy than I can devote to them, though Haidar—”

  He coughed. She glanced up and fell silent.

  “Haidar what?”

  “These are Antique Enraptures,” Isabelle said. “They’re an older breed, but they give off decent magic.”

  “Looks like fairy dust,” Daniel said. “Once it’s rubbed off, anyway.”

  “Looks like it,” Isabelle agreed. “But it’s not the same. It’s good for you, for one thing.”

  “No hangovers,” Haidar said.

  “Enraptures are more for building strength and power over time,” Isabelle said. “They make a good rose hip tea. We contract with Moonwort Hospital for this one, actually. They use it in a couple of healing potions.”

  “Give away all our secrets,” Haidar grumbled.

  Isabelle continued like he hadn’t spoken. “The Allure Miniature Roses over there are a little lighter,” she said. She pointed over to some tiny bushes. Like the Enraptures, their branches were frosted with magic, this time palest pink tinged with yellow.

  I stared at them, and then I stared beyond them.

  The glamour had lifted all around us. The garden, which had been gray-green moments ago, was now alive with colored ice. I’d seen the garden in summer before, when the blooms had been out in full force. We were surrounded by the same colors now, but in a way I’d never seen.

  “The Allures are more about charisma,” Isabelle said, sounding like a tour guide. “We grow those mostly for the Rose Galas in summer. We drop the flowers in punch bowls and string them on garlands for the festivities. Makes everyone seem much more charming than they really are.”

  “You’ve been drugging everyone at the parties,” Daniel said, a hint of admiration in his voice. “Nice.”

  “I’ve seen those,” I said. I could picture them now, tiny pink roses with blushing yellow centers. I’d always been drawn to them at the Galas.

  “You like roses,” Haidar said.

  For the first time, he sounded like a normal person making normal conversation. I eyed him. “Yes,” I said.

  “Do you work much with plants?” he said.

  “I grow some at home,” I said. “And I volunteer at a community garden.”

  He scoffed. “No, I mean do you work with plants? Plant magic?”

  “Oh,” I said. “No.”

  Because I was an idiot who hadn’t realized that was even a thing until recently.

  “Haidar’s a botanist,” Isabelle said. “Not a bad one, at that.”

  He threw her a death glare.

  “I’ve dedicated my life to the study of magical plants,” he growled. “Isabelle likes to refer to it as my ‘hobby.’ It’s a miracle Isabelle still has a job.”

  Isabelle rolled her eyes at him. Haidar frowned at me, as if I’d disappointed him by existing. I tapped my toes on the pavement. I’d come to talk to Isabelle, not to listen to an insecure wizard defend his job.

  “You’ve never grown magic from plants?” he said.

  “No,” I said. “I thought you had to be, like, a really good faerie for that. Or wizard or whatever.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  I pressed my fingertips together to stop myself from punching him.

  “Okay, yippee,” I said. I turned back to Isabelle. “We should probably get going.”

  She pursed her lips and nodded. I felt a sense of effort stretching along her arms and got the feeling she was also trying to not assault her boss. But Daniel was enjoying himself too much to go anywhere.

  “Olivia’s a terrible faerie,” he said.

  “Not if she’s a good gardener,” Haidar said. He stared intently at me, like he was examining a bug under a microscope. “What about breeding? Have you done selective breeding of Glim species? Enchanted Hum plants with Glim qualities?”

  “Nope,” I said. “I grow herbs on my windowsill. The end.”

  “Would you like to learn?” Haidar said.

  I froze under his intense gaze. The answer rose instantly to my lips: Yes, but not from you. But I couldn’t say that. I wasn’t as rude as him.

  “I don’t know,” I said instead.

  “Think about it.”

  He turned to Daniel. They appraised each other, two sets of sharp dark eyes taking each other in.

  “And you like music,” Haidar said.

  “I’m more of a poet, actually,” Daniel said.

  I couldn’t help but be impressed by how un-ironically he said it. I couldn’t claim to be anything. Even when I said, “I’m a faerie godmother,” I always tripped over myself right after, adding, “Well, not really a godmother. I’m just an intern.” But Daniel announced I’m a poet like there was nothing to it.

  “You’re an artist,” Haidar said. His face softened just a little. “I have a collection of magical instruments you might be interested in.”

  “What do you play?” Daniel said.

  “Violin, a little,” Haidar said. “I don’t play well. But my cousin is a great musician. His instruments are rare. I keep them safe when he travels.”

  Isabelle caught my eye and gestured for me to sit down. I settled back on the bench with her and watched as Daniel and Haidar fell into an easy conversation about instruments and performing. Haidar seemed to relax as he spoke, and for just a brief instant, I caught a glimpse of what he might have looked like when he was young.

  “Stories are mixed,” Isabelle said softly, like she wanted only me to hear. “Haidar’s a perfect example of what I was telling you. No one is all good or all bad.”

  Her face softened as she watched him.

  “We need him,” she said. “I know he can be abrasive, but we won’t be able to pull this off without his help.”

  I frowned at her. But her eyes didn’t leave his face. Finally, I shrugged.

  “If he can help us take the
Oracle down a notch or two, I’ll put up with whatever I have to,” I said.

  I reached out a hand toward the nearest rose bush for a dusting of magic. I rubbed it between my fingers and felt the power seep into my skin.

  Haidar, Isabelle, or roses—it didn’t matter. I’d take all the help I could get.

  Chapter Eight

  It was almost embarrassing to serve regular old cranberry-chamomile tea to Elle, but she seemed to be enjoying it. She took a long sip from her mug and leaned back into the couch.

  “It’s going to be so nice to have a couple days off,” she said. “We’re closing Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, and I’m shutting down early New Years’ Eve. Basically heaven.”

  “I thought you loved being at Pumpkin Spice,” I said.

  “Well, yeah, but not all the time,” she said. “Sometimes I think I was crazy for wanting to take all that on. Running a business on top of school? One-way ticket to the funny farm.”

  Despite her words, her face lit up with a smile that was every bit as warm as the tea. She loved her café and she loved running it.

  “Speaking of Pumpkin Spice,” she said. She set her mug on the coffee table and twisted to face me. Her eyes widened, suddenly eager. “You will not believe what I’ve been putting up with.”

  “Is this the Aubrey thing you texted about?”

  “She’s been hanging around outside the windows,” Elle said. “Like, every day for almost a week.”

  I sipped my tea and turned this over in my mind. It shouldn’t be possible. Aubrey was a Humdrum through and through; she shouldn’t be able to see the café was there.

  “Maybe she’s been visiting the buildings on either side?” I said.

  “Unless she’s secretly working at the Lebanese restaurant but never goes in, probably not,” Elle said. “Or maybe she’s looking at apartments? The real estate office is the only thing on that side, but they’re basically never open. Sign says ‘Open by Appointment’ but I don’t think anyone makes appointments.”

  “But she shouldn’t know Pumpkin Spice is there,” I said, as if Elle hadn’t put the Humdrum repellent onto the building herself. It was a tight enchantment; I’d tested it thoroughly and hadn’t been able to sense a single crack. It had definitely fooled Lucas.