Cookie Dough, Snow & Wands Aglow

by Erin Johnson

  She cleared her throat. "Of course." She turned back to Hank and waved him on to hurry. "Come now—I won't take no for an answer."

  Hank looked at me and I nodded. "Sure. I could use a hot bath before the party." Truthfully, after a whole day traveling in the cold and an hour on my feet in skates, I wasn't sure I'd ever get out of the bath to stay up all night for the Bruma Eve party. I knew Hank felt the same way. But he had no excuse for not going, since he was staying at the mansion, and I wasn't going to abandon him to Lady Cordelia's fussing. So together we skated back to exchange our skates for our boots, and then made our way over to Lady Cordelia, Pandora, and Sal.

  "Walk with me now." Lady Cordelia took Hank's arm and yanked him from me.

  He and I exchanged wide-eyed looks. She was strong for someone so petite!

  "I'm so glad you've come to the Earth Kingdom this winter. How do you find the time? You must be so busy, what with your wedding coming up in February. Though men never do as much planning as us ladies, am I right?"

  Trailing behind them beside Pandora, my heart seemed to freeze in my chest. February? When had this been decided?

  Hank choked and spluttered, and Lady Cordelia gave him an impressive whack on the back. "Are you all right, Prince Harry?"

  He pounded a fist to his chest and straightened. His voice came out choked. "February? Where have you heard such rumors?"

  She sniffed and our party started forward again. Pandora linked her arm in mine, her loose curls bouncing as we walked. "I love winter weddings. My mother's trying to fix me up with Beau Primpington. He's very fashionable. But she doesn't need to try—I'm kind of a catch."

  I couldn't help but grin, even as I strained to hear Cordelia and Hank's conversation.

  "Don't play coy with me!" She was swatting his arm.

  "I mean, I guess I like spring weddings, too. And summer. And fall would be nice." Pandora shrugged. "All weddings are nice, because they have cake, you know?"

  I craned my neck and turned my head, angling my ear at Hank and Cordelia who were pulling ahead. I sped up my pace.

  "Your mother must have let the date slip in London—it's in all the papers. I'm sorry if you didn't know it was public already."

  "But—" Hank coughed. "But that's only a month and a half away."

  "Are you all right?" Cordelia turned to call back to the lagging Sal. "Sal—do you have your magical salts with you? The prince looks faint." She peered up at him. "Are you ill?"

  Hank waved her off. "No." He called back to Sal. "Thank you, but I'm—I'm fine." He glanced at me and in truth he did look ill, his eyes glassy and the color drained from his face. He shook his head slightly and mouthed, "I didn't know."

  I gave him a tight nod. I knew. I knew he would have told me. Still—a month and a half.

  Lady Cordelia pulled him forward. "I have so many influential friends I'm excited to introduce you to. They'll all be here tonight. And Beau Primpington—do you know him? No? He and his parents, the Duke and Duchess of Leavenbury, will be in attendance tonight and I have a feeling we may have another wedding coming up soon. He's smitten—just smitten I tell you—with my Pandora."

  Pandora turned and gave me a wink, her long lashes fluttering.

  "And I'm not at all worried about that sneaky witch Ria Kapoor. She turned up out of nowhere this year. I mean, I invited her, I invite all the nobility, it's just courtesy, but I never expected her to come. And here she is, and the only reason why is to steal Beau from Pandora. But she's not half the girl Pandora is, so again, I'm not in the least concerned."

  Still reeling from the shock of Hank's wedding date to Shaday being set, I scanned around me, trying to drown out Lady Cordelia's talk. It was painful to listen to her prattle on about weddings. As we made our way around the town square toward the white inn, we neared the empty alleyway with the ruins where I'd seen the old woman earlier.

  I slowed down as we reached it. Broken wood beams and burned rubble littered the ground, the remnants of a destroyed building. I peered into the deepening gloom that shadowed the space. A greenish metal plaque caught my eye and I pulled away from Pandora's arm to walk across the sidewalk and read it.

  The bronze plaque read "Site of the Great Magical Mirror Shoppe." I ran my gloved finger along the raised letters. I turned to find Pandora and Sal staring, mouths slightly agape.

  "What are you doing?"

  I looked back at the plaque, then at them. "What is this place?"

  "Come on!" Pandora waved me back and I joined her. "It's an alleyway."

  I glanced back as we walked on, feeling oddly reluctant to leave it. "Right. But what used to be there? Do you remember the mirror shop? How was it destroyed?"

  "Uh." Pandora's thin brows drew together and she looked me up and down. "Nothing has ever been there but an alley. Certainly never a mirror shop. The Heritage Society, I think, preserves some of these super random spots—like that alley. But there's nothing there—obviously. Just an empty space. And you're making me uncomfortable because I'm wondering if you're just kinda fun crazy or like, shank me to steal my socks crazy."

  I frowned. "Your socks?”

  She cocked her head to the side. "I have very nice socks."

  "I—I won't be trying to steal them. Promise."

  Pandora turned away, a sad look on her downcast face. "That's just what a shanker would say." She patted my arm. "Here's your stop."

  I looked up and blinked. We stood in front of the inn, its windows lit up golden with candles. Hank and Cordelia turned and I gave Hank a little wave. "See you soon."

  Hank lifted his brows and opened his eyes wide. "Very soon." He added a silent, "Please" once Cordelia's back was turned, and I grinned and headed inside to clean up.

  7

  Receiving Line

  I bit my lip and grinned at Maple as our sleigh pulled up in front of the governor's mansion. She clasped her hands together, intertwining her white gloved fingers, and her eyes sparkled as she turned to me. "It's perfect."

  I threw an arm around her and gave her a squeeze.

  "Happy Bruma, friend."

  She leaned her head against my shoulder and squeezed my hand. Her golden curls trailed over her emerald green cocktail dress with its cape sleeves and satiny glow. "Happy Bruma, Imogen." She sat up and swallowed, her eyes glossy. "I'm so glad we're spending it together."

  I quirked my lips to the side. "Don't you miss spending it with your family?" Maple had a big one, lots of little brothers and sisters and her blustery father and doting mom. I imagined their Bruma was noisy and bright and fun.

  "Sure." She smiled. "But I— It's hard to explain." She looked up and to the side. "I feel like I am with my family, too."

  I swallowed against a lump in my throat. I'd never spent quite such a happy Christmas myself. And while Bruma wasn't Christmas, it was pretty dang close. "I understand. I feel the same way."

  Wiley hopped down, looking strapping in his maroon sweater and fitted jeans. "Careful." He wrapped a hand around Maple's slim waist when she slipped on the icy drive that led up to front steps of the mansion.

  She breathed out a laugh. "Guess high heels weren't such a good idea."

  "Maybe not practical." Wiley hiked up a brow. "But they look clam good."

  She dropped her eyes and her cheeks flushed. I lifted Iggy's lantern and accepted Wiley's help down. Rhonda and Francis met us, one sleeve of his black jacket dangling empty.

  I nodded my chin at it. "You doing okay, Francis?"

  He cast a nonchalant look at his missing arm. "Not the first time it's happened. But rather annoying, all the same." His lips quirked to the side as he looked at Rhonda. "I shall only be able to handle one drink at time."

  "Psh." She waved a sparkling hand, each finger glittering with rings. Her dark braided hair was swept back in a chignon and her lips colored a deep plum that matched her velvet floor-length gown. "That's what spells are for. Come on, lot." She rubbed her bare arms, which prickled with goose bumps. "Let's get insid
e."

  I took Maple's arm on one side, and Sam's on the other, with Iggy dangling from my hand between us. "You look good, Sam."

  He dipped his chin, which disappeared even more into his neck. "Rhonda helped me dresssss."

  I quirked a brow. Rhonda wasn't always known for her fashion sense. I'd seen her sporting a beer can hat before. But she'd done a good job with Sam. He wore an argyle sweater vest over a collared shirt, with gray wool slacks and shining loafers. As we walked up the stone drive, Yann and Annie, similarly dressed up for the occasion, trailed behind. Amelia had gone ahead to schmooze when it was clear we were all going to be more than fashionably late.

  We lined up in front of the steps up to the broad porch behind a few other groups of guests. At least we weren't the last to arrive.

  "I feel like they should have a bouncer and red rope." I leaned close to Maple and whispered, "How very posh of them to have us lining up outside."

  She giggled, but beside me Sam shivered. I gave his arm a little squeeze. "You cold, Sam?" Maple had sung a quick little song earlier, casting a spell to help us stay warm in our cocktail dresses and thin tights. "Maple can cast a spell for you to warm you up a bit?"

  He shook his head as the line moved and we climbed the steps past rows of huge red poinsettias, their crimson and white leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze that stirred up snow flurries. Candles burned in every window of the mansion, casting silhouettes of partygoers who milled about with drinks in their hands.

  "No. I cassst that ssspell, too." His throat bobbed. "Jussst nervousss, I sssuppossse."

  "Nervous? What for?” I dipped my head to try to catch his eye, but he stared resolutely at the high heeled shoes of the woman in front of us.

  "It'sss all ssso new. The sssnow, the town… and thisss isss my firssst Bruma."

  I smiled and lifted my brows. "My first Bruma too, Sam. It's a lot to take in, huh?"

  He nodded. "I'm afraid I'll do sssomething wrong."

  I hugged our linked arms close to my side. "Hey now. You won't do anything wrong. You're always so sweet and kind—just be you and try to have fun. If you want to stay with me and Maple all night, we'll be happy to keep you company and help you talk to people."

  He lifted his milky eyes and blinked at me. They appeared larger behind his thick glasses. "I'd like that. Thank you, Imogen."

  “’Course, Sam."

  We shuffled a few more steps forward, and I rose on tiptoe, balancing in black velvet pumps to peek over the heads of the small crowd. Golden light spilled from the foyer, along with a warmth that set the front of my face tingling. "They've got a receiving line going. Everyone's greeting the mayor's family, that's what's taking so long."

  "Ah." Maple nodded.

  Soon we were inside the tall, broad doorframe with the warmth, the light, and the string quartet playing something that sounded a lot like "Good King Wenceslas." It set my foot tapping and I eagerly looked around for Hank. I smoothed my bangs and gave my bun a little tug to make sure it sat snugly on top of my head. I brushed the long, garnet sleeves of my velvet dress down and tugged at my short hemline. All set. When I looked up, Hank leaned against the doorframe just behind the mayor's family, who shook hands with incoming guests. My breath caught for a moment. With his black suit and red plaid bow tie, and the glowing red champagne glass swirling in his hand, he looked like a Christmassy James Bond. His blue eyes danced as he took me in. "You look beautiful," he mouthed.

  "Ahem." A butler cleared his throat and I looked up to find I'd been holding up the line.

  "Sorry!" I scurried forward, my high heels clacking on the gleaming wooden floor. I turned and cast Maple a sheepish grin, and she laughed.

  "A little distracted?"

  I hauled Iggy up to look at him. "Oh, be nice."

  "I'd rather be naughty." He flared brighter.

  "I'm sure you would, you little troublemaker."

  He cackled. Apparently the party had put even my cranky flame in a good mood.

  We neared the front of the line, only one group ahead of us. An older man and woman stood beside what looked to be their daughter, a young woman who appeared about Pandora's age. I wondered if they might be friends. But the guest ignored Pandora completely and curtsied deeply to Lady Cordelia.

  Lady Cordelia sniffed. "No need for such formalities, Ria."

  Ria straightened and swept a golden-brown arm toward the older couple. "Allow me to introduce my parents—"

  Lady Cordelia lifted her chin, sending her fiery red curls bouncing in the long ponytail that draped over one shoulder. "I'm already familiar with Mr. and Mrs. Kapoor. Pleased you could make it this evening."

  Her tone didn't sound too pleased to me. Oh! I remembered Cordelia mentioning a rich girl she thought was here to steal Pandora's love interest, Beau Primpington. This must be her. Ria didn't strike me as all that capable of planning a seduction. She was tall, thin, and beautiful in a slightly different, wide-eyed way. Her shiny black locks were plaited into a thick braid down her back, and bright fuchsia veils with silver trim wound around her in a beautiful wrap. But she had an awkwardness about her, she hesitated and kept her eyes down or stared too long, that didn't scream temptress.

  Ria cleared her throat. "Of course. We're so pleased to be here." She curtsied again and Lady Cordelia’s eyes flashed.

  "Yes well, we have many guests to greet—"

  Ria pursed her full lips, looking childlike. "I wanted to ask you if you were familiar with Madame LaRue, at the Valehaven Conservatory? I've been in talks—"

  "Yes, well, plenty of time to discuss that later. I don't want to hold you up any longer, go now—enjoy the party. Go." Lady Cordelia waved the family on, and Ria parted her lips to speak, but pressed them tightly closed again when a maid in a frilly white apron stepped forward to show them to the party and the rest of the house.

  Wiley, Maple, Sam, Iggy, and I stepped forward with the rest of our party just behind us and the line still winding out the door onto the porch. We curtsied and bowed and Lady Cordelia cocked her head to the side in a bedazzling smile, her peridot earrings swinging from her ears and setting off her red hair. "Well, we've just met. Good to see you again, Ingrid."

  I lifted a finger with a ruby-red nail. "Imogen."

  She ignored the correction. "These must be the rest of your baking friends? Oh, and a little flame. How quaint. Welcome." She barely spared a glance for the rest of the party.

  "Pandora, you look beautiful." I gestured at her dress and Pandora giggled and spun around in place, her full golden skirt swirling around her ankles, the off-shoulder straps showing off her pretty collarbones. She swayed when she came back to facing forward and fanned herself with a gloved hand. "I'm a little dizzy. Whew." She grinned broadly. "My mum stuffed all my squishy bits into my corset and tied it very tight, so I'm a little prone to dizziness right now. I've actually passed out twice, but mother says breathing is ‘uncouth.’" She made air quotes around the last word.

  "Oh." Maple's brows were drawn together in concern.

  Lady Cordelia patted her daughter's arm. "Correction. I say that mouth breathing is uncouth." She looked her daughter up and down, her face filled with admiration. "Though I daresay, Pandora, if anyone could put it in fashion, it'd be you, you beautiful girl."

  Pandora batted her lashes and dropped into a curtsy so low that she sort of slid and sat on the ground and ended up stranded, trapped inside her hoop skirt. Lady Cordelia rolled her eyes indulgently, reached down a bejeweled hand, and hauled Pandora to her feet with one arm. Wow. She made it look easy. Lady Cordelia must work out.

  Ows and oofs came from outside, and we turned to see what the commotion was about. Bridger, the drunk from the inn who'd tried to join in on the poker game, shoved his way past the line and into the foyer.

  "Hey, buddy," a man from outside called. "There's a line!"

  Bridger wiped his mouth across his tattered jacket sleeve. It looked like it might have been an expensive jacket at some point, before it
faded and turned threadbare. "Nature calls," he growled.

  Lady Cordelia glared, but her husband, the tall and droopy Governor Allencourt, merely raised his brows in mild surprise and took a swig from the crystal glass in his hand. "Bridger. This is a surprise. You've never attended one of our parties before."

  Bridger glared, his eyes turning into tiny, malice-filled slits. "I have business to discuss with you later." He staggered forward and dodged the butler. "But for now, I need the loo."

  The governor coughed. "Well, it's just down the hall on the—" He stopped as Bridger dashed down the hall and ducked through a wood-paneled door. I hoped that he'd found the right room and wasn't relieving himself in the coat closet. From the stench of him as he passed by, he was already drunk.

  Governor Allencourt turned to his petite wife, his brows huddled together. "How did he know where to find the loo?"

  Lady Cordelia pressed her lips tight and shrugged. She stared ahead and refused to look at her partner. "Previous party, I suppose."

  The governor cleared his throat, which sent his loose neck trembling. "I suppose… but I could swear that in all these years he's never attended one of our parties, even Bruma Eve when we invite the whole town. He sort of makes a point of refusing, doesn't he?"

  "Sure, dear." Lady Cordelia ignored him as we moved on, making space for her to meet Annie, Yann, Rhonda, and Francis. She smiled down the line until she spotted Francis. Her eyes widened and the color drained from her face. She opened her mouth as if to speak, then snapped it shut again. An uncomfortable silence stretched on, and I leaned forward to see Francis's reaction to this strange reception. But he looked just as transfixed by Lady Cordelia—did they know each other? Francis traveled often and had lived a long time—hundreds of years was my impression, older even than Rhonda. It seemed possible. They stared, and Francis's eyes turned to dark pools of black, the whites completely gone. His lips curled back, revealing dripping fangs—he reminded me of snake about to strike.

  "Sea snakes," Wiley breathed.

  The governor cleared his wobbly throat. "Cordelia dear, cat got your tongue?" He chortled at his own joke, but when she didn't react in the slightest, his laugh turned to a dry cough. "Uh, well, my wife seems quite taken with your vampire." His voice rose and cracked on "taken."