8. 8

A silver flame appeared on my mother's palm. "Not very big," she said.

"No, no," Poppy said. "It's quite perfect. Hold out your hand so I can see it?"

Mom complied. Poppy supported Mom's hand from underneath, lifting it up and down; bringing it closer and further away; squinting at it and making thoughtful noises. "Now the other."

Mom brought her other hand up and a silver flame popped to life.

"Quick draw. Very nice," Poppy said, examining the newly flaming hand as she had examined the first one. Then she briskly folded my mother's fingers over, snuffing out the silver flames, and let her hands go. "Let's see. What have we got that we can set on fire without consequence?"

"Berron," I said.

"Zelda's antique boots," he retorted.

"Touch my boots and die," I said.

"I have a sheaf of dried lavender; would that help?" the Princess of Arrows asked.

"Wonderful," Poppy said.

The Princess of Arrows stood, deftly brushed off her golden gown, and took Georgiana with her back to the Fortress of Apples.

"In the meantime, why don't we give ourselves a bit of distance, yes? From the spectators," Poppy added.

I moved back. "I feel like we should be calling you Professor Poppy."

Poppy curtsied. "Professor Poppy, at your service."

The Princess of Arrows returned from the Fortress with a bundle of dried flowers. She approached and held them out to Poppy. "Will this be sufficient?"

"Oh, yes. Thank you, my little golden friend."

The Princess of Arrows smiled shyly and retreated.

"Now, Effie," Poppy said, pulling a few stems of dried lavender free. "I'm going to throw a bit of this in the air, and I want you to try to set it on fire."

"Isn't that dangerous?" my mother asked. "What if I accidentally set you on fire?"

"You can't. I have fire magic, too. I'm immune. Watch." Poppy lit the lavender with a touch and a small flash of silvery fire. She brandished the smoking lavender, then extended her other hand over it. A normal person would have instantly been burned. "Et voila!" She extinguished the lavender, whipped it away, and displayed her unburned hand. "See?"

My mother leaned forward, carefully examining Poppy's skin. "All right," she said. "If you're sure."

"Quite sure," Poppy said. "Ready?"

Mom nodded.

"Light one of your hands. Your dominant hand, please."

Mom held her right hand up and re-ignited the flame in her palm.

Poppy walked a short distance away and pulled out a larger spray of lavender. The dogs sat on their haunches as if they, too, were waiting for a show to begin. Then Poppy tossed the dried flowers in the air. "Fire!"

Mom thrust her hand skyward. Fire erupted in a stream of silver. When it hit the lavender, it flashed into orange and yellow before what was left of the lavender hit the ground, smoldering and smelling of smoke and perfume. Tiny red ashes ignited as if actual fire ants were crawling over the burned twigs. "Whew!" Mom said, breaking into a smile. "How was that?"

"And you say you're new to all this?" Poppy said. "Never used any magic before?"

"I can vouch for that," I said.

"Can I try with both hands?" Mom said.

Poppy and I looked at each other. This was… unexpected.

"Of course," Poppy said. She began to pull out another lavender bunch.

"How about the whole thing?" Mom asked.

Poppy looked up, her hand frozen in mid-motion. "The whole thing?"

"Yes, just chuck the whole thing. I bet I can get it."

"Get it?" Poppy said.

"You know." My mom gestured with both hands, like a magician. "Poof!"

"Poof," Poppy repeated. She looked at me.

I shrugged. "Let her ‘poof' if she wants to."

"Go, Effie!" Berron called from the sidelines.

Mom steadied herself on her feet and raised both hands, palms forward.

Poppy gripped the remaining bundle of lavender and began to swing it back and forth, building up momentum. "Hup!" She tossed the bundle up and away.

The bundle hit the top of its arc, and Mom let fly. Even from many feet away I could feel the heat as twin fire blasts smoked the bundle in mid-air, causing it to explode in a fragrant cloud of ash. Cinders drifted down.

Both dogs leaned forward, their noses twitching.

Mom straightened up, breathing a little harder but radiant with triumph.

"Hurrah!" cried the Princess of Arrows, clapping her hands. "It is most exciting, is it not, brother?"

Berron was watching me. "Very exciting," he said. "Isn't it, Zelda?"

"Mm," I said. Truthfully, it was like watching Mom take up NASCAR driving. Even if she was surprisingly good at it, I couldn't help bracing for a crash. "Mom, why don't you take a break? I don't want you to hurt yourself."

"Nonsense, Zelda, I'm as fit as a fiddle. And I didn't slow you down when you decided to gallivant up here and get involved in magic, did I?"

I opened my mouth to answer, but she kept going.

"No, I did not. I said to myself, ‘Effie, children are going to do what children are going to do'—"

"I was forty-five."

"Don't interrupt your mother. And I let you go—

"Let me go?"

"And I let you go knowing full well you could fall right on your face—"

"Thanks."

"Because," she continued, "I didn't want to hold you back from your dreams."

Even the dogs looked impressed. And then everyone was looking at me.

"I'm not trying to hold you back from your dreams. Until right this second, I didn't know your dreams involved hurling fireballs at dried flowers in the Forest of Emeralds."

"How would they, if I never knew those things existed? Except for the dried lavender, of course." She turned toward the Princess of Arrows. "Can I replace that for you, by the way? I was so excited I didn't even think twice about setting your lovely flowers on fire. Did it come from a shop around here?"

"I picked them myself."

"Oh." Mom paused, appearing to try to work out how, exactly, to replace the hand-picked flowers.

The Princess of Arrows regarded her with a look of politeness that seemed as if it could outlast the sun.

"Well," Mom finished, "I'm sure there's a craft store around here somewhere."

"Oh, yes," Poppy said. "There's a Michael's on 6th Avenue."

The Princes of Arrows cocked her head. "You do not wish to visit the Vale of Amethysts?"

"Visit the what of what now?" Mom said.

"Vale of Amethysts," Berron said. "A natural feature in the Forest of Emeralds."

Mom looked at me for help. I shrugged, having no more idea of what or where that was than she did.

"Is it… is it very far?" Mom said.

Berron shook his head. "A short walk over mostly level ground, at least until you reach the downward slope into the Vale itself."

The Princess of Arrows stood and brushed off her golden dress. "Shall I take you now?"

"Now?" Poppy said.

"Have you aught to do elsewhere?"

"Sister," Berron said, gently, "they may have obligations."

She lowered her head and folded her hands. "My enthusiasm is too great," she said. "To have such visitors quite overwhelms me."

My mother hurried forward and placed her arm around the wilting Princess. "Don't you fret. Of course we'd love to see the Vale of Amethysts, wouldn't we?" Mom looked at Poppy and me and raised her eyebrows.

"Of course," Poppy said.

"Actually, I have to get back to the shop in a little bit," I said. Time passed strangely in the Forest of Emeralds. It was easy to lose track of how long you'd been there, and get to Manhattan just as the sun was setting, having lost an entire day.

Berron stood. "I'll go with them." Jester tugged at the leash, eager to go anywhere and do anything.

"I wasn't saying there needed to be a dude to keep them safe."

"Neither was I," Berron replied easily. "My sister could outfight me blindfolded."

"This is true," the Princess of Arrows said.

I remembered Berron throwing a chair across the restaurant, and wondered what a sibling battle might look like, and how the delicate-looking Princess could overpower Berron's height, strength, and grace.

I really had to stop admiring him.

"Before you go," Berron said, approaching me and drawing me away, toward the trees. They closed around us like velvet curtains, though we were only steps away from Poppy, Georgiana, my mother, and the Princess of Arrows. He scooped up Jester in his arms and smoothed his floppy, fuzzy ears. "Don't mistake me," he said. "I didn't volunteer to go because they need a chaperone. I volunteered because your mother is going."

"My mother? What's she got to do with it?"

"You protected my family. I will protect yours."

"What harm could come to her here?"

"That's not the point. It is my obligation." With that, he suddenly sounded more formal—a hint of what he might have sounded like all the time if he hadn't spent so much time in New York.

"It doesn't have to be your obligation."

"Why are you so stubborn? Why do you get stuck on little words like ‘obligation'? I won't argue with whatever I am to you, Zelda. Just let me pay you back in this way."

The quiet wood was a church, making his words sacred. Even Jester had gone serious, looking at me with brown eyes that were large and solemn.

It was easier to meet the dog's gaze than Berron's. So I gave Jester gentle scritchy-scratchies under his chin as he rested contentedly in Berron's arms.

Berron held the dog up to my face, where I was promptly licked. "See? He thinks it's a good idea."

"Jester thinks biting electrical cords is a good idea." Could I keep avoiding eye contact with Berron, maybe forever? It didn't seem likely.

"Jester isn't afraid to have someone else take care of things."

I laughed. "He's a dog, Berron. Of course he isn't. Come on, let's get back before everyone thinks we're making out in the woods."

"‘Making out'?" Berron made a face like he'd bitten into a very garlicky pickle. "I don't ‘make out.'"

"You should try it sometime," I said—and instantly regretted it, because it sounded like an invitation. Why did my appetite always betray my common sense?

"Never," he answered, placing Jester on the ground and letting him lead us back into the open grass. "I will never do anything that can be described in such low terms."