Page 124 of Made

“The court is in your debt. Thank you,” I said.

She stood. “In that case, I’ll take my leave and retake my place in the courtroom.”

The attendants opened the door for the queen on her approach. As she exited, she looked back over her shoulder, smiled, and said, “Luck be with you.”

She didn’t wait for a response.

Hengest called court to order once again.

“The House of Howland Horn has made a suggestion coupled with a most generous offer.” I looked at Drexella. “You should be flattered. You’ve made a most favorable impression on your queen, and she doesn’t want to lose you if it can be helped.” Drexella turned to look in the direction of Howland Horne’s box before turning back to me. “Queen Arantxa will provide express transportation to and from Mr. Kang’s residence in accordance with the terms of custody, assuming you’re able to reach an agreement. Do you want to discuss that with counsel?”

“No, Your Honor. I accept.” Drexella was smiling ear to ear. “That’s awesome.”

My eyes went a little wide at her use of human hyperbole, but I quickly reminded myself that one never knows what will happen at court.

Turning to Kang, I said, “Is that something the defendant can agree to?”

“A word with my client, Your Honor?” Brightgen asked.

“Of course.”

He leaned over and briefly spoke to Kang in hushed tones.

“Yes, Magistrate. My client is open to this. He has a half-sister who occupies a wing of his residence. He says she’ll be pleased to help raise Mai Ling.”

“Very well. Bailiff Hengest will arrange for a private room you can use to craft the terms of the custody agreement. When it’s complete with signatures, give it to the bailiff. After my signoff, the court clerk will enter it into the registry. This case is dismissed. Court will reconvene tomorrow at ten.”

I banged my gavel which, truthfully, was one of the delights of being magistrate.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO Spirits of the Mistletoe

It was already the last day of Yule court. I’d heard nine cases altogether and was about to gavel in the last.

When this case appeared at the top of my stack, I thought,Mistletoe spirits on the Yule docket? Yes, please.In keeping with the spirit of the season, an action brought by mistletoe fairies made the little girl in me sit up and point ears forward.

Choosing this case would’ve been a no-brainer even if I didn’t judge the merits as court-worthy. But this suit had potential to be one of my most important hearings to date.

Several things made it noteworthy. One was the highly rare circumstance that one of the parties to the suit, the defendants, was human. I hadn’t known that was a possibility until now. I checked with Lochlan and did a brief scan of the magistrate journal library, which had not been digitized for encyclopedic scrutiny. That would make things too easy. Between the two of us, the only reference we found to humans being involved in fae court had occurred some three hundred-plus years ago.

As you might guess, bringing humans into the magic world requires extraordinary provisions such as a special dispensation from the Powers and BOBO providing us with a mind sweep capable of wiping the memories of participating humans. After my ruling is handed down, of course.

The druids, who’d been sued by a loose coalition of mistletoe spirits, are well aware that there are magic worldsthat exist side by side with human reality. But knowing a thing intellectually is not the same thing as a physical introduction to one of the magic kind dimensions. I’m told there’s a danger of permanent damage to the personality of humans who accidentally wander into a fae world. It’s a wrong place, wrong time, wrong species scenario that can create a form of PTSD. Not all humans are so affected, but some souls, be it because of sensitivity or intractability, find proof of alternate realities difficult to reconcile with their point of view. Emotionally, they withdraw to an unreachable “safe space” in their minds and stay there.

Yikes. And no, thank you!

Max, that’s shorthand for Maxfield Pteron, lead counsel for the Bureau of Behavioral Oversight (BOBO), was representing the plaintiff, which was the Mistletoe Spirit Union. Earlier I referred to the “Union” as a loose coalition because magic kind are famously libertarian, meaning that organization is elusive at best.

Blythe Merriwether was pulling double duty this court, serving as attorney for the Celtic Fraternity of Bards, Ovates, and Druids, six of whom were present and the defendant’s table. Try as the six men might to look like Gandalf, all fell short. They might’ve been going for a wizard-supreme thing, but missed the target altogether. They came off as the oldest, grayest version of ZZ Top in drab burlap robes with rope belts.

I’d read in the brief during my docket selection process that Druids make an annual pilgrimage to the Malvern Hills to gather Viscum album, also known as sacred white mistletoe. In late November, early December, they look for orchards of apple or hawthorn, or poplar trees, where mistletoe is plentiful and most visible growing. Accompanying rituals included using a golden cycle for cutting and catching the mistletoe in a cloak before it touched the ground. Norse tradition associatesmistletoe with matters of hearth and home, along with clairvoyance. It’s the latter that is of concern in this dispute.

In the distant past, Druids had unlocked the secret of forcing mistletoe spirits to reveal themselves and answer questions. The spirits didn’t mind this so long as the questions referenced such things as weather prediction, but in modern times, despite their appearance, some Druids had become more interested in material gain. They realized that the ancient pagan practices might be used to provide livelihoods or even prosperity.

When they began drawing mistletoe spirits out to inquire about such things as lottery numbers and stock market predictions, the mistletoe spirit union went to the Druids’ council and asked to be divested of the burden of truth-telling performance. The Druids refused on the grounds that mistletoe spirits were becoming lazy and trying to get out of the only job they have.

After I was settled in, I looked at Blythe Merriwether and said, “You’re busy today.”

She stood. “Yes, Your Honor.”

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