Page 3 of Whispers of the Magical Forest

"That was different," Violet insisted. "We were on a case then. Besides, Elowen is a Light Fae. They're all so civilized."

"Right," I drawled. "Because the Light Fae are known for their restraint and reasonable behavior.”

"You’re mated to a Light Fae, Fi," Violet reminded me. "When was the last time we got to drink proper Fae wine? The kind that makes you see stars and taste moonlight?"

"The last time we did that was after I had the baby," Aislinn pointed out. "And I didn't get to participate. I miss the wines of home."

That did it for me. We paid our tab and ventured to Elowen’s place. That's what friends did. They followed each other into potentially dangerous situations involving Fae wine. Thankfully the town was small enough it didn’t take long to get to our destination. The Snowy Vine was nothing like the previous winery. Where that had been quaint and rustic, this place looked like something out of a fantasy architect's fever dream.

The building before us was clearly glamoured. It shifted its appearance depending on who was looking at it. To mundie eyes, it was a quaint country estate. For those of us who could see through the magical veils, it was an elegant Victorian mansion.

"Nice separation spell," I commented as I studied the layers of magic. "It lets the mundies see what they expect while giving supernaturals the full show. It really is beautiful."

"I think it's brilliant," Violet said as we approached the door. "The way they've woven the different perception layers together is master-level work."

Aislinn and I followed her up the path anyway. Inside, the place was bustling with the kind of crowd you'd expect at a Fae establishment. There was a surprising mix of supernaturals. Looking away from a shifter and his ice demon date, I took the room in. The bar was made of dark marble that seemed to have galaxies swirling in its depths. The chandeliers looked like they were made from captured starlight.

A group of what looked like dryads were giggling in one corner. Their hair was shifting between autumn colors even though it was winter. A pair of what had to be selkies sat at the bar. Their sealskins were draped carefully over their chairs. And was that... yes, that was definitely a pooka trying (and failing) to look inconspicuous while chatting up what appeared to be a very unimpressed water nymph.

That's when we met Elowen. Holy shit. If the building was impressive, she was breathtaking. She wore a silver gown that moved like liquid moonlight. Her platinum blonde hair was braided in a way that defied gravity. Her eyes were an impossible shade of lavender.

"I know that look," Aislinn whispered to me. "That's your 'trying to figure out if someone's dangerously attractive or just dangerous' face."

"Can't it be both?" I muttered back, earning an eye roll from both my friends.

"Welcome to The Snowy Vine," Elowen said in a voice as melodic as wind chimes in a gentle breeze. "What may I offer you on this fine winter's day?" She glided toward us. Her feet never quite touched the floor. Show-off.

"We've heard your vineyard is the best in the region," Violet said, smiling. "We're rather keen to try the house special."

"Ah, you must mean Winter's Embrace," Elowen said. Her smile widened as she reached for a bottle that looked like it had been crafted from frozen starlight. The wineinside was the color of garnets held up to the sun. I swear I saw snowflakes dancing in the liquid as she poured.

"Careful with that one," a voice behind us warned. I turned to see a satyr in a surprisingly modern bartender's outfit, complete with an artfully tied bow tie. "It's got quite a kick. Last week, a bunch of pixies had three glasses each and ended up trying to redecorate the ceiling."

"I rather liked what they did with the constellations," Elowen mused as she gestured to the ceiling where, sure enough, entirely new star patterns twinkled. "Though the dragon constellation breathing actual fire was a bit much. Anyway, this is made from grapes kissed by the first frost," she explained. "It carries a touch of winter's magic. We harvest them at midnight during the first full moon after the autumn equinox."

"Of course you do," I said, trying not to sound as impressed as I felt. "Let me guess. You do it using silver shears blessed by a winter sprite?"

"Actually, we use golden shears blessed by the Moon herself," Elowen corrected with a slight smirk. "The silver ones leave an aftertaste."

I took a sip and holy mother of magic. It was like drinking liquid warmth. It made you feel as if you were sitting by a fire while a blizzard raged outside. It made you forget about all the trouble you'd left behind. A second later, images flickered through my mind. I recalled snowball fights from my childhood, the first time I saw the Northern Lights, and that perfect moment of silence after a fresh snowfall.

"We need to take some home," I declared. "Bas would love this."

"Argies too," Aislinn agreed, already reaching for her handbag. "He’s been talking about taking another trip back to Eidothea so he can help his brother and see his family."

I could understand that. My children lived in the UnitedStates, and I didn’t see them as often as I wanted. They didn’t get much time off from classes. “Now that we’ve been warned, you should plan it soon. Before shit goes sideways again.”

"Speaking of warnings," Elowen said. She’d produced a contract that sparkled suspiciously. "There are a few... terms and conditions for purchasing bottles."

"That sounds rather ominous," I sighed. "Let me guess. We have to give you our firstborn. No, wait. We can't drink it during a blue moon. And we have to dance with the Winter Court if they come calling?"

"Nothing so dramatic," Elowen laughed. The sound was like icicles tinkling. "Just the usual. Don't serve it to mundies. Don't use it in potions without consulting the brewing guidelines. And please don't try to replicate it. The last witch who tried that ended up with a vineyard full of singing grape vines. It took months to quiet them down."

We spent the next hour sampling different wines. Each was more magical than the last. The conversation flowed as freely as the wine. Though, I kept my intake minimal. Someone had to keep a clear head. With our track record, it was probably a good thing I was driving.

"Oh, try this one," Elowen said as she produced a bottle that seemed to be made of twilight. "It’s called Midnight Harvest. It pairs wonderfully with lasagna."

"Does everything here have to be so dramatically named?" I asked, accepting a glass that swirled with what looked like actual stars.

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