If she did, the trickster wouldn’t be able to defend himself. The wind had felt that last stone drink all the illusion from the trickster’s blood. He’d have to rest before he’d be able to conjure again. The cruel one’s sister, though, was still bubbling with illusion. She was stronger than the trickster, and she hadn’t been running herself dry like a worker bee at the end of summer.
“All right,” he said, and then, after murmuring to his mother, he led the cruel one’s sister from the wedding hall.
She grabbed a box on the way out and smiled happily as the trickster led her to a large bedroom. She looked around and raised her eyebrows at the giant bed in the center of the room.
“Is this where we’ll sleep?” she asked.
The trickster shut the door.
The wind swirled to the bed, running over the satin sheets and the soft down pillow. It loved the Bard’s desire for soft, silky fabrics and feather beds. It loved their taste for velvet cushions and plush carpets. It loved rubbing along their cool marbles and lustrous golds.
The trickster leaned against the door, his eyes hooded. “No. It’s where I’ll sleep. What did you want?”
The cruel one’s sister walked to the bed and ran her hand over the satin duvet. Then she set the box on the wooden nightstand.
She patted the bed. “Sit with me.”
“Why?”
She laughed. “I have a present for you. A wedding gift. Do you have mine?”
It was tradition for a conjurer bride and groom to exchange gifts the day before the wedding.
The trickster’s eyes flicked to the box and then back to the cruel one’s sister. “Yes. Of course.”
“Well?”
He walked to a large walnut wardrobe and pulled out a small box. It was wrapped with gold paper.
“For me?” The cruel one’s sister clapped her hands. “I love gifts. Don’t you?”
“I suppose.”
“You know, I think we should be honest with each other,” she said, unwrapping the paper from the little box. “We didn’t have a choice in this marriage, but I’d like us to make the best of it.” She made a happy sound when she saw the glitter of stones and gold. “How pretty.”
It was a gold bracelet as cold as the cruel one’s sister was.
“Is it an object of power?”
“No. It’s only a bracelet.”
She traced her finger over the glinting diamonds. “No one ever gives me gifts.” When she looked up, her eyes were clouded with tears. The wind tasted them, but instead of sadness, they were icy, like the bitter north. “I want to make the best of this marriage. Make the best outcome for both of us. Don’t you?”
The cruel one’s sister didn’t wait for his answer. Instead, she turned and reached for the box on the nightstand.
“Sit with me.”
The trickster eyed the bed as if it were full of snakes. Gingerly, he sat next to the cruel one’s sister.
She turned back to him and smiled when she saw how close he was. The bed was plush, and it sank under their weight, tilting them close.
“Here.” She handed him the box. “I hope you like it.”
The trickster took it and then slowly opened the lid. The cruel one’s sister watched him with a hungry gaze. The wind trailed over the edge of the box and peered inside.
Slowly, the trickster pulled out a small cage. His mouth tightened imperceptibly, but the cruel one’s sister noticed. She seemed to delight in his discomfort.
“What is it?” he asked, his voice tight. He held the bamboo cage away from himself.
