Cookie Dough, Snow & Wands Aglow

by Erin Johnson

  The innkeeper gestured to the man. "This is our lord governor."

  The man pushed his crystal glass to the boy, then wiped his hand on his wrinkly trousers before reaching forward to shake Hank's hand. "Albert Allencourt, at your service."

  Hank hesitated just a moment before shaking the man's hand. "Prince Harry of the Water Kingdom. Thank you for your hospitality toward our group of unexpected visitors."

  "Psh." Governor Allencourt waved a hand. "It's nothing." The wood floor creaked as he shifted on his feet. "Now you can't have plans for tonight as you've just arrived, unplanned, so I absolutely insist that you attend my wife’s and my Bruma Eve Party. Everyone's invited—even the help." He gestured at the rest of us and Amelia narrowed her pale gray eyes. "And the uh—" He craned to get a better look at Francis. "The one-armed vampire, too. He'll be quite the novelty."

  Beside me, Rhonda pushed back from her seat, murder in her eyes, but I gripped her forearm, stopping her. More so as not to make a scene than anything else, as I would have liked to sock Governor Allencourt myself. Poor Francis was healing rapidly, the blood no longer flowing and the wound already scarring, but still—it had to be uncomfortable and terrible to be seen as a spectacle.

  Governor Allencourt grabbed his drink back from Dylan and swirled the ice cubes, then took a swig. He turned to the innkeeper and handed her his empty glass. "Another—my usual."

  She took it and nodded, though her skin pulled tight about her eyes and she pressed her mouth into a thin line. So the governor was a gambling jerk. Wee Ferngroveshire was seeming a little less idyllic.

  "Back to the game, then." He turned to go and I relaxed slightly, but then he spun and clapped a heavy hand on Hank's shoulder. "Oh and Harry, you must stay with us at the mansion. We won't be having a prince of the kingdoms staying in a common inn—no offense." He nodded at the innkeeper, whose nostrils flared, her mouth pinching tighter.

  Hank shook his head. "That is a—kind offer, but I prefer—"

  "Unless you have another reason for staying somewhere no one will recognize you. A little mistress, perhaps?" He winked and shook Hank's shoulder, barking out a laugh. The innkeeper gulped and looked down, but darted a quick glance at me. My stomach sank and twisted with embarrassment.

  Hank's eyes blazed. The light dimmed as the fire in the giant fireplace shrunk and the candles scattered about flickered and guttered. I frowned. What was happening— Oh. As swallows, Hank’s and my magic worked differently than most everyone else's. Instead of generating our own magic power, we took energy from the world around us. And Hank's anger was causing him to pull from the flames. Oh geez.

  I turned to him and raised my brows, speaking slowly. "Hank—I mean, Prince Harry, I'm sure you would be very comfortable at the governor's mansion." I nodded slowly, willing him to accept the invitation—it'd be the best way to quell any rumors. I winced internally remembering Hank's public kiss on my forehead. I was sure there would be rumors.

  Amelia jumped in as Hank brooded, his breathing coming in little pants and the lights still darkening in the lodge. "What a lovely offer, he accepts."

  Still Hank said nothing.

  "Okay then, it's settled. My wife will be thrilled." He turned to the innkeeper. "See that his things are taken to the mansion and that he's driven over when he pleases." Governor Allencourt clapped Hank's shoulder again and for a moment all the light flickered out. The governor looked around frowning, but shrugged and returned to his poker game, Dylan strutting beside him.

  I toed Hank's foot under the table. "Hey. I know that guy's a jerk, but it's okay, right? It's just one night."

  Hank sighed and light flooded the dining hall. Murmurs went up from the tables around us and I relaxed.

  "I'm sorry." Hank shook his head. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

  I lifted a brow. "It would take a lot more than that to scare me."

  He smiled, but his thick brows lifted plaintively in the center. "I know. But still—just because he acted like a jerk, doesn't mean I should." He turned to our friends. "Sorry, everyone."

  Iggy glared. "You nearly put me out."

  Hank pressed his lips tight together and leaned forward, lowering down to Iggy's height on the table. "I apologize, Iggy. I wasn't thinking. My anger got the best of me. But it won't happen again."

  Iggy huffed, but seemed to accept the apology. He'd always liked Hank… until we started dating. My little flame lifted his brows at me.

  The table gradually resumed quiet conversation, but I kept catching Wiley across the table staring at the poker game in the corner with a grin on his face. After we'd all finished and the tab was added to our room charge, we pushed back our chairs and stood. My body ached, especially my seat from sitting all day. It felt good to move a little.

  "Before I head to the governor's mansion"—Hank tried to keep his face neutral, but I could tell from the hang of his head that he really didn't want to go—"I'd like to fulfill a promise to you."

  I frowned and looked to the side, trying to remember what he could be talking about. "Oh!" I smiled brightly and bounced on my toes. "Ice skating?"

  He laughed and nodded. "How about we all go?"

  Annie waved us on. "You young ones have fun. This old lady needs to lie down if I'm to be up all night for Bruma Eve."

  Yann, though at least ten years younger, nodded his agreement and moved off with Annie toward the lobby and the rooms beyond.

  "Sure. Hold on just a sec though." Wiley strode over to the poker game in the corner and stood with his hands planted on the table, chatting with the governor.

  "What's he doing?"

  Maple shrugged. "I have no idea."

  Wiley straightened up after a few moments and made his way back to us, biting his lip to hold back a huge smile.

  Maple laughed when he got close. "What are you so tickled about?"

  He held up one long finger and cocked his head to the side, listening. I shifted on my feet, listening to the murmur of the diners and not much else. Wiley nodded a couple times, urging us to wait.

  "Bah!" The governor pushed back from the table and slapped his hands on it in anger. "I lost!" He sounded astounded and glared at his errand boy, Dylan. "Lost! Everything—absolutely all my winnings!"

  "Come on." Wiley held a hand to his mouth, his shoulders shaking with snickers. We shuffled through the bar area and back to the lobby.

  "What did you do?" Maple tried to look stern, but a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth and made her eyes sparkle.

  "The boy—he was helping the illustrious governor cheat." Wiley broke into a fresh rounds of giggles as he ducked his chin down to his chest. "I just helped level the playing field."

  "How?" Maple's jaw dropped.

  Wiley ushered us out to the lobby. We gathered around him a little huddle and he explained in a low voice. "They cast a spell to cheat."

  I frowned. "Card counting, or something? Wouldn't that Eddy guy know and cast a spell to prevent it?"

  Wiley nodded. "He probably did exactly that—but he would have cast the spell on the deck of cards, to make sure they couldn't be tampered with or marked."

  Maple's blond brows pulled together. "So, he cast the spell on something else?"

  Wiley nodded. "The grandfather clock. Did anyone notice anything strange about it?"

  We all shook our heads.

  "The hour hand pointed to the correct time, but the minute and the second hands were being little cheaters." Wiley grinned. "Each player had a number designated to him. The guy to the governor's left was position one, while the guy to his right was maybe eleven, with the governor himself being twelve, let's say."

  Hank nodded.

  "When the clock pointed at one, then, it indicated a certain player. Then the second hand whirred about the clock face, stopping at certain marks for a couple of seconds, to spell out the player's hand. One o’clock indicating an ace, then the face value of the cards, then eleven would be jack, twelve queen, and a counterclockwise spin meant a
king."

  My mouth dropped. "This sounds incredibly complicated."

  Wiley brows lifted. "Oh, it is. It takes a long time to learn how to not only read the signals, but do it without giving it away."

  I remembered Dylan staring at the clock and I gasped. "So the kid was reading and remembering all that? Incredible!"

  Wiley nodded. "And then he probably has some way of communicating the hands to the governor—maybe the way he arranges the chips or he slips him a note. Or he might just interpret it all and just nod at the player with the highest hand, for example."

  Rhonda grinned. "That little bugger." She lifted a finger. "But how does the clock know what the players have if the cards aren't marked or enchanted?"

  Wiley smiled. "Probably some other objects around the room are spelled. Maybe the hunting trophies for example. Anything behind or above the players that might be able to see their hands and then magically communicate that to the clock."

  I shook my head. Wow. So much energy applied to cheating. Imagine if they used this creativity toward something productive.

  Maple frowned. "How do you know all this?"

  Wiley's grin stayed plastered to his face, but his eyes drooped at the corners. He cleared his throat. "After my mom died and I got into some trouble, my dad decided he couldn't leave me home alone, so he dragged me along to all his poker games." He pulled his lips into a tight line and shrugged. "Couldn't have me sitting there being bored, so he put me to use. Taught me to do all that."

  I lifted a brow. "That's messed up. But kind of incredible you could do that."

  Maple touched a few fingers to Wiley's arm. "But you stopped it—back there?" She tilted her head towards the dining hall.

  Wiley sniffed and his grin returned. "Yeah. I cast a counter spell on the clock so it'd mark out random numbers with the second hand."

  Maple pressed her lips together for a moment, then burst into giggles. I joined her and soon we were all laughing our way to the ice rink.

  6

  Ice Skating

  "Hank!" It came out a little shriek, growing shriller and higher at the end. "Eee!" I flew across the frozen pond, my ankles aching from the white skates on my feet. They weren't the only things aching—I'd fallen and landed on my hip before Hank realized he had to watch me like a hawk and cast emergency padding spells every time I crashed to the ice. The spell made it feel like landing on pillows. Even though I knew I wouldn't get hurt, I still worried about bruising my ego. Those kids were still laughing from the last time I'd skated under the little white bridge that spanned a narrow part of the pond and tried to duck, but just ended up with my legs splayed like a fawn.

  "Er, Hank?" I bent my knees and braced for impact as the wind stung my cold cheeks. I flew toward a snowbank with no idea how to stop myself. I closed my eyes, ready to end up spread eagle again, but opened them when a warm hand took mine. I sighed a breath of relief and put some of my weight into Hank's arm. "I thought you wanted me to crash for a moment."

  He grinned and shook his head. "Can't take my eyes off you for even a second."

  "No." I shook my head seriously. "You can't. Okay?" As if on cue, my right leg slid out from under me and Hank dipped to catch me. He held me close for a moment, our faces inches apart. The cold stung his cheeks pink and the blue light from the magically color-changing ice made his eyes sparkle. He searched my face, drinking me in, and my legs nearly buckled again, but for a very different reason.

  When a group of kids, arms linked, flew past us and sent up a spray of ice, it brought me back to the moment. My goal was to not get Hank's reputation sullied with rumors of fraternizing with the "help," as the governor had put it. I straightened up and slowly, reluctantly pulled away from Hank, grinding my jaw as I thought of the governor. I huffed. What a jerk.

  "Did I—" Hank cleared his throat. "Did I do something wrong?"

  "What?" I smiled, and realized I'd been scowling. I waved a gloved hand. "No. Just thinking about that jellyfish of a governor and wishing you didn't have to stay at the mansion." I gave him an arch look. "I'll be lonely tonight without you."

  His cheeks flushed a deeper pink and his eyes grew darker. He drew me close as we skated around the curve of the pond, and he lowered his voice. "I'm about two seconds away from throwing all propriety to the wind and renting out the whole inn, just to give us privacy." His warm breath and words sent goose bumps down my neck and arms.

  I gulped. "How scandalous."

  He let out a low laugh that stopped short. "Just one night, right?"

  We skated on in silence, admiring the beautiful glowing light of the ice under our feet, the tall pine tree being set up in the town square, and the laughing kids having a snowball fight off to the side. A pair of older ladies sat on a bench drinking hot cider, judging by the cinnamon-y smell that perfumed the air as we passed. And shoppers bustled along the cobblestone streets, wares in hand. The dusk was deepening into night, lit by the twinkling lights that sparkled in the bare tree branches and around the windows and doorways of the shops and tents scattered about the square. The fairy lights lent the snow a magical glow and as we rounded the bend that curved close to the massive tree, the earthy, citrusy smell of pine filled the air. I lifted my nose and took a deep breath, letting it out in a happy sigh.

  "Yoo-hoo! Hallo!"

  I opened my eyes as Hank whispered, "Is that woman talking to us?"

  She opened her eyes wide and pulled a hand free from the giant white muffler she held at her waist. She wiggled her fingers in a wave and smiled brightly, showing all her teeth.

  "I think so." Which was strange.

  Hank gently guided us to the snowbank in front of the woman and her two companions, keeping me steady the whole time.

  She winked at Hank. "Well, I heard you were handsome, but they simply didn't do you justice. Prince Harry—" She dipped into a deep curtsy and coughed until the other two curtsied as well, though one of the women struggled under the weight of the bags in her arms. "—allow me to introduce myself." She presented her delicate hand, bejeweled in sparkling rings and a ruby bracelet. Hank took her small hand in his and bowed. "I'm Lady Cordelia Augusta Arabella Allencourt, the first. But you may call me Lady Cordelia Augusta Arabella Allencourt."

  I arched a brow and muttered, "Right. Much shorter."

  Hank barked out a laugh and brought a fist to his mouth, trying to disguise it as a cough. "What do your friends call you?"

  She lifted her thin red brows, the whites showing all around her bright blue eyes. "Hm, friends?"

  Oh my. There was our answer.

  Hank bowed again. "Well, pleased to meet you… May I call you Lady Cordelia?"

  She stuffed her sparkling hand back into her muffler. "Oh, very well. I suppose if I'm to be your hostess, a little overfamiliarity won't hurt." Her dazzlingly white grin spread across her face, but the smile didn't quite reach her blazing blue eyes.

  "My hostess?" Hank cocked a brow.

  "Oh yes! I'm the wife of this town's governor. I believe you met?"

  Hank pulled his mouth wide. "Guess word travels fast around here."

  She lifted her eyes skyward and shrugged. "Small towns, you know. No secrets here." She forced out a laugh. "Oh, where are my manners. This is our maid, Sal." The maid, in her gray wool dress, curtsied again, swaying under the weight of two poofy garment bags and a shopping tote hanging from one wrist. Lady Cordelia put a slender arm around the young woman to her left. "And this is my blooming daughter, Pandora. She just turned twenty last month. She's all grown up now."

  "Mother!" Pandora flipped a hand, and gave an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She half closed her lids and turned to me. "I've told her before, I haven't stopped growing. In fact, after I die, my nails and hair will keep growing for years. So only after I'm like, really rotten and corpsey will I be all grown." She gave me a placid smile and batted her eyes.

  I smiled back. I had no idea what to say to that, but I liked this girl. Maple would die when I told her about
this. I glanced behind me—speaking of whom, where was she? Last I saw her, she'd taken a break from skating to chat with Wiley on one of the benches. As I looked for her, I caught sight of Rhonda and Francis across the pond. Rhonda held Francis aloft by the waist over her head in a move that would've made Patrick Swayze proud. I grinned. The vampire did float everywhere, it probably wasn't a feat of strength for Rhonda, but it was hilarious.

  I turned back and eyed Pandora. She shared her mother's flaming red hair, though she wore hers in soft waves pinned back, while Lady Cordelia's billowed nearly to her waist in a wiry tangle of fiery kinks that lent her a slightly more wild air. In fact, the two shared a lot of similarity in looks.

  "You look like you could be sisters!"

  Lady Cordelia's smile dropped and she shot me a hard look. She blinked and recovered her soft expression. Guess someone wasn't a fan of flattery—though I'd been completely sincere.

  "And who might this charming young lady be?"

  I felt like she was looking straight through me.

  "Uh—" Hank cleared his throat. "This is Imogen—one of the most amazing bakers, and people, I know."

  My lips tugged to the side. If he couldn't introduce me as his girlfriend, that was a pretty good alternative. "Nice to meet you."

  "Likewise."

  Though Lady Cordelia's pursed lips told another story. Her face brightened as she turned to Hank again. "We just came from the dressmakers." She patted the bundles in the maid's arms and the poor woman's legs buckled. She was halfway to the ground before she righted herself. Those must be some heavy dresses. "We've picked up our gowns for the evening. And I'm sure you'd like a chance to freshen up before the evening's festivities. I've just gotten word that your things have arrived at the mansion. Why don't you walk back with us?"

  Hank turned to me, hesitating.

  "We'll spin by the inn and drop Isobel off."

  I lifted a finger. "Imogen."

  Lady Cordelia cocked a thin brow.

  "My name? It's Imogen."