The Conjurer (The Vine Witch #3) - Luanne G. Smith Page 0,3
only death for me if I return to that city of infidels.”
“Someone put a binding spell on her,” Yvette added, giving Sidra a sideways glance. “She tends to bring out the hate in people like that.”
Sidra showed her teeth, but her hostility did not last. The jinni backed down uncharacteristically, turning away when her emotions threatened to dampen her fire. “I cannot return there,” she said resolutely once she’d regained her control. “Do not bind my fire by tossing me back into that place. I would rather sink to the bottom of the bottle for an eternity than be thrown into that whirlwind of grief again.”
Oberon took his wife’s hand in his and considered the jinni’s plea. “And yet the laws by which we all abide do not allow you to remain in passivity and stagnation. No one’s path stops midlife. It must continue toward its end.”
Titania made a barely perceptible noise in the back of her throat before covering her mouth with her hand to hide her whispers. Her king leaned in to listen. After a moment he straightened, his eyes gleaming with the spark of an idea. The jinni hugged her slightly damp caftan around her arms as if to shield herself from his verdict.
The King of the Fairies was handed a wooden staff with a crystal affixed on top by one of his winged minions. “Upon consideration, I will grant you your escape from the city in which you were bound,” he said to her enormous relief. And then he added a “however” that filled the jinni with the sort of dread that made her wish she’d grabbed hold of something solid first.
The word left hanging in the air was the last thing she remembered before being squeezed through a narrow seam between worlds, where glittery lights, like sunlight on water, flared in her peripheral vision.
CHAPTER TWO
A tiny green tendril unfurled in Elena’s hand. So small and fragile now, but in weeks it would become a tenacious anchor strong enough to hold up the vine when the fruit grew fat and heavy. She placed her hand on the cane and closed her eyes, listening for the rush of life inside. Cells inflated and deflated as nutrients from the soil fattened out the roots, holding on to the energy needed to create new growth. Satisfied with the plant’s prospects, she hooked the tendril around the vine’s woody cane and hung a charm of mustard and rosemary to protect the plant row from any shadow spells creeping around the root crowns at night, hoping for a place to deposit fungus.
A bee buzzed in Elena’s ear, offering his good opinion of the vineyard.
“Yes, they are spreading quickly this year,” she said. The sun overhead had as much to do with the progress as the gentle morning rains they’d received over the last three days. All in all, she and the bees agreed it could be a bountiful year. And not just for the vines. The cellar was filled with fat barrels from the previous year’s vintage—her first since returning after the curse that had nearly destroyed everything. Only a few more months and they would bottle the wine and offer it for sale to customers all over the continent ready to buy by the case. If luck was with them, they might eke out enough profit to fix the leaky roof on the house before the attic beams rotted.
Three rows over, Jean-Paul was busy tying down the canes, coaxing them into position to bear the heavy grape clusters needed for the wine. Though a mortal, he had a natural rapport with the vines. He didn’t know it, but they leaned toward him ever so slightly whenever he bent down to dig around their feet.
Jean-Paul clipped a pair of redundant buds, then removed his flat cap. The work was physical, dirty, never ending, but there was no place either of them would rather be than standing among the vines, except perhaps lying in their wedding bed. He wiped his brow with the back of his sleeve and took a drink of water from his flask. As he drank, his eye caught sight of something on the hill.
“There it is again,” he said, pointing. “That dog I was telling you about.”
Elena followed his gaze but saw only the brown curl of its tail as the animal ducked behind the row of plants.
“He’s been hanging around the place for three days now.” Jean-Paul put his cap back on and grinned. “One of yours?”