I closed my eyes, reaching for that warm center where my magic resided. It sparkled eagerly in response, too eager, spilling out before I could properly channel it.
The teacups began to hum.
“That’s…not containment,” Cordelia said.
“I’m aware.” I gritted my teeth, trying to rein the magic back. Instead, the humming grew louder, organizing into a distinct melody.
When the cups began singing about eternal passion in a three-part harmony, I dropped my face into my hands.
“You know,” Cordelia said, “a singing tea service could be quite charming at royal functions.”
“You’re not helping.”
Quandary fluttered over to perch in front of the cups, conducting the music with his tail. The smallest cup launched into a vibrato solo that would’ve made an opera singer envious.
“This is a disaster.” I thumped my grimoire closed. “I can’t even control basic magic anymore.”
“Perhaps you’re approaching this backward,” Cordelia said. “Joy magic isn’t meant to be contained. It’s meant to be channeled.”
I sighed. “Into what, exactly? More singing dishware?”
“Into something the castle needs.” She gestured broadly. “This place is a mausoleum. All that dark stone and heavier furniture. What it needs is life.”
“I’m not sure Kieran would appreciate me redecorating. He didn’t seem interested when you mentioned it the other night.”
“He’s busy with kingly duties.” She fluttered closer. “You’re the queen. Who else should decorate but you?”
I frowned. “You think so?”
“I know so. Think about it. Those grim portraits could smile. The carpets could bloom with embroidered flowers that actually grow. And the king himself—” She spun some more. “Imagine him in colors that flatter his complexion. Emerald green, perhaps. Or royal purple.”
The mental image of Kieran in purple velvet made me snort. “I’m sure he’d love that.”
“He might, if you were the one to suggest it.” Her eyes twinkled. “He did bring you breakfast. And a flower.”
My cheeks warmed. “That doesn’t mean anything.”
Quandary, still conducting the singing cups, rolled his eyes so hard they nearly disappeared into his head.
“Fine.” I stiffened my spine. “Let’s try something else. Maybe if I focus the magic into something useful, it’ll cooperate.”
I selected a jar of dried lavender from the shelf. “Relaxation charm. Simple, practical.”
“Boring,” Cordelia sighed.
“No, effective.”
I crushed the lavender between my palms, letting the fragrance rise as I whispered the incantation. My magic stirred, interested but still restless.
“Calm,” I told it. “Soothing. Gentle.”
For a moment, it seemed to work. Golden light spiraled from my fingers, weaving through the lavender. Then it surged, transforming what should’ve been a subtle relaxation charm into something much more potent.
The lavender burst into tiny purple fireworks, showering the worktable with sparks that changed into butterflies. They fluttered around the room, leaving trails of glittering dust that made the air smell like summer nights and something deeper, headier.
“Is that…” Air whoofed from Cordelia’s ghostly lungs. “Oh my.”
“What?” I sniffed, then immediately regretted it as heat flooded my veins. “Oh no.”
