Page 24 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“People talk to themselves when they’re nervous all the time,” he’d said. “It could just be that he’s a concerned father, desperate to have his son returned to him.”
Could. Might. Maybe.His father wasn’t fooling anyone. His latest declaration was the worst.
“Beau,” he’d sighed exasperatedly, “your sister should be absolutely fine.”
Should.Of course sheshould.Because she was a great hunter and strong and brave and it was unimaginable for anything to have happened to her.
“You worry too much, Beau,” Juliana insisted, rubbing his furrowed brow with her thumb.
“No,” Beau returned, “I worryexactly the right amount.”
Even the handsome librarian and the books weren’t helping to dispel his concerns, although it wasn’t from lack of trying. He fell asleep surrounded by books, trying to read himself into exhaustion.
“Beau? Wake up.”
Someone was shaking his arm. It didn’t take much to rouse him—the lumpy beds seemed to dispel the deepness of pure sleep. Beau opened his eyes, blinking rapidly. “Father?”
“Get up,” Hawthorn instructed.
“Why?”
“I want to try a locator spell on your sister.”
Beau shot up. “I knew you were worried!”
“Ssh!” said Hawthorn, putting a finger to his lips. “You’ll wake your mother, and she seems the only one of us who isn’t worried, and I need her to continue like that so that I do not lose it altogether.”
Beau nodded. “That seems right. I’ll grab my cloak.”
Locator spells were easy enough magic, especially for the King of Faerie, but the difficulty increased with the distance, and Hawthorn had already been in the Mortal Realm for several days. His powers were already weakened.
But with someone else to bolster them, and under the light of the moon, they ought to be able to manage it.
They pulled on glamours, tiptoed out of the castle, and descended out into the courtyard.
Hawthorn took several items out of his pack and laid them on the ground. Candles, crystals, a map. He lit the wicks with his fingers, tiny golden beads of magic dusting his fingers.
He could do most magic wordless and without ingredients, but it never hurt to use them to ground or bolster a spell, especially outside of Faerie. There were spells that Beau could do without words or objects, magic that sloughed off him, as instinctual as breathing, but there was much he had left to master. He dreamed of the days it flowed from him like rain from a cloud.
Hawthorn rolled up his frilly sleeves and held out his arms. Beau clasped his hands over his wrists, creating a circle. Hawthorn started to whisper. The quiet thrum of magic pulsed between them.
The crystals started to glow. Golden dust shimmered into life between them, drifting up the road towards the mountain, into the forests, up the slopes. They gathered over a lake and would go no further.
Hawthorn sighed, releasing Beau’s arms. “Spells like this don’t tend to stick where there are too many dwarves. Blast their magic-repellant hides.” His fingers graced the pendant around his neck, the one Juliana had used to keep track of him, many decades ago. He’d never removed it, as far as Beau knew. He was probably wishing he’d given it to Aislinn now. “Still, at least we know she’s fine—the lights wouldn’t be so bright if she wasn’t.”
They packed up their equipment wordlessly and slipped back to their chambers, silent the whole way there. Beau knew his father was thinking, forming some kind of plan, he was just hoping he would share it with him.
The door closed behind them.
“Where in the world have you two been?” Juliana said, leaping out of nowhere.
Beau and Hawthorn jumped.
“Ah, um, trying to locate Ais with a spell?”
“And you didn’t tell me because…?”
“We didn’t want to worry you?”
