“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” I tell him, “or how I’m supposed to become this great queen my mother thinks I’ll be.”
Boniface seems to consider this for a moment. “I’ve been around these parts—and your family—for quite some time now. I reckon I’ve picked up a few things. How about you learn to work a bit of magic on your own?”
I feel a flutter of excitement. “Really?”
“For something minor like charming roses, you don’t need the herbs themselves as long as you’re touching your Stone with your left finger and as long as you’re thinking about the herbs you’ve chosen.” He strokes his chin for a moment and appears to be thinking. “You always want to look for herbs and flowers associated with what you’re hoping to achieve. For this one, let’s invoke squaw vine and master root. They’re both used to foster growth. Are you familiar with both plants?”
“Yep,” I say, and Boniface looks impressed.
“Great. Start with something simple, like, ‘I draw the power of the squaw vine and the master root.’ Then command the roses to grow.”
I take a deep breath and touch my Stone of Carrefour as Boniface and I say in unison, “Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate. Come to us now, Eloi Oke, and open the gate.”
Boniface nods to me, and I take a deep breath. “I draw the power of the squaw vine and the master root,” I chant, touching one of the rosebushes with my right hand. My stone hums against my breastbone. “Spirits, please grow this rose, raise its height.”
Nothing happens. I try again but still nothing. “What am I doing wrong?”
“The words you say don’t matter as much as the things you’re channeling as you say them. You touch the stone with your left ring finger because people believed in the vena amoris, a vein that runs from the ring finger to the heart. That’s one of the reasons that finger is used for wedding rings, you know.”
I look down at my ring finger and touch it to the stone again.
“Touching the stone with your ring finger links your magic to your heart,” Boniface explains. “It has to do with harnessing specific memories, times when you’ve been filled with love. Harnessing feelings that pure can enhance a queen’s magic tenfold.”
“Then how can Peregrine be so powerful?” I mutter. “She doesn’t exactly seem like the warm and fuzzy type.”
Boniface chuckles. “Love of oneself is also a very powerful emotion, not to mention love of material things.” He leans in and adds, “What she’s missing, though, is the power of someone loving you in return. That can magnify your magic too.
“So think of a memory in which you felt love,” Boniface says, “and try again.”
I close my eyes. When I recite the invocation, I think about my mother smiling proudly at me in our front yard when I was a little girl as I showed her the cartwheels I’d just learned to do. I feel a sizzle shoot from my left ring finger through my heart to my right hand, which is touching the rose. I open my eyes and see that the bush has grown a foot taller and has sprouted three new rosebuds.
“So somewhere out there, a squaw vine shrub and a master root plant just died?” I ask.
He nods. “For each action, a reaction, ever in balance, the world spins on. Now try again.”
I touch another rosebush. This time, I reach even further back, to my oldest memory of my mom. I’d fallen in the driveway and skinned my knee, and when I looked up, there she was, with a look of concern on her face so deep that I felt instantly soothed. I recite the words and crack my eyes open.
“Even better.” Boniface looks approvingly at the second bush, which is blossoming in a rainbow of colors now. “You were thinking of your mother again?” When I nod, he says, “Try again, thinking of someone else.”
This time, I’m intending to think of Aunt Bea and everything she’s given up for me, but when I close my eyes what I see is Caleb leaning across me to open the passenger door of his Jeep last night, during the split second in which I thought he was going to kiss me.
When I open my eyes, not only has the bush I was touching grown and sprouted dozens of new blood-red roses, but every bush it was touching is flourishing too. I pull my hand away.
“Who were you thinking of?” Boniface asks.
“Um, Aunt Bea,” I lie.
“Hmm. Well, she clearly loves you very much.” He checks his watch. “In any case, I must get inside. I have a few things to do tonight. Besides, I’m guessing you’re tired; working zandara can be exhausting.”