“You said before that Christmas trees usually have lights, right?” She handed him a pad of paper. “What do they look like?”
Liam was no artist, but he did his best to sketch a tree with Christmas lights.
“That’s lovely.”
He had to swallow down a sudden swell of emotion when visions of his childhood tree danced in his head. He’d unwittingly drawn one to look the same. “I grew up in an egregiously large estate in upstate New York, and my parents used to have a professional come in and put up our Christmas decorations. All white lights and perfectly spaced ornaments.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “The place was like a department store window. But they used to let Spencer, Kara, and me decorate the tree in our basement because no one went down there but us. It looked just like that with gaudy, multicolored lights and homemade ornaments. I loved it.”
With a wink, she said, “Then this is the tree we will have.” She carried the sketch back to her workbench and reached for a coil of gold wire. “What colors were those lights?”
When she held out a box to him, he padded to her side. It was filled with gemstones of all shapes, sizes, and colors. He picked up a large sapphire and held it up to the light. It couldn’t be real, but damn if it wasn’t a perfect replica.
Charlotte took the stone from his hand and wrapped it securely in the wire. “More. What other colors?”
The stones were a far cry from Christmas lights, but hey, maybe like the cookies, this was the best they could do here. He tossed her jewels one after the other in the order of the multi-colored lights he remembered as a kid. Soon, Charlotte had crafted a long string of gems that at least reflected the light in a way that was breathtaking.
“This is similar to your Christmas lights?”
“Close enough. In my world, they’re electric lights like the kind that light this room.” He pointed to her desk lamp.
Charlotte glanced at the light with an impish smile. “Electric, huh?”
He nodded.
She coiled the strand of gems loosely around her fist and stepped into the symbol at the center of the room, placing them near her feet. “All the lights in Paragon use energy from the volcano—geothermal energy—that’s transformed into light using magic. Magic similar to this.” She raised her hands on either side of her body and started to chant. What she said made no sense to him. It might have been Latin or Greek, but he didn’t recognize a word of it. The effects were something he’d never forget. Her eyes glowed pure white, and an electrical storm crackled between her hands, larger and more violent until it struck the coiled gems with a thunderous boom that had him backing up a step. Charlotte lowered her hands and lifted the gems off the smoking floor.
What the fuck? Liam stepped toward her. The gems were now lit from within and bright enough to cast colorful light around the room. Mouth gaping, he reached out to touch one.
“Oww!” He snatched his hand back, blowing on his fingers.
“Careful,” she said. “They’ll cool off eventually, but it will take time.”
“But you’re touching them.”
She laughed. “I told you before. I’m fireproof like my father. I’ll put them here until they’re safe for you.” She placed the strand into a deep metal cauldron. “Why don’t we start on the ornaments while we’re waiting?”
“But… But… How long will they stay lit like that?”
She shrugged. “As long as I’m alive.”
He shook his head. “How?”
Rolling her eyes, she closed the space between them and took his face in her hands. “Magic, Liam. It’s magic.”
He stared at the lights winding round and round inside the belly of that metal pot, and all he could think was that he’d fallen down the rabbit hole and he wasn’t sure he’d ever find his way out. Scarier still, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. Maybe he’d hit his head harder than he thought.
Chapter
Twelve
Later that evening, Charlotte finished putting the lights on the massive tree in the great hall and started decorating it with glass spheres she’d had a servant purchase from an artisan in Hobble Glen. Liam said they were a good likeness to the ones he was familiar with. After he’d helped her for some time, she could tell he needed rest and had Cook bring him dinner. At the moment, he was scarfing down a narwit burger with blue chips and enjoying his third glass of tribiscal wine.
“This wine is delicious.” He held the glass up to the light. “If I could re-create this on Earth, I’d make a mint.”
“You might have trouble with that. Tribiscal fruit trees only grow in volcanic soil, and the fruit has to be harvested by hand.”
“We have volcanic soil. I’ll start a vineyard on the big island of Hawaii.”
“I’ve never even heard of that place.” She sighed, her smile turning wistful.
