Through all of this, Anthelaena continued to bathe herself, oblivious.
Ilsevel retrieved the jug from Phineas, and poured ice-wine out into the air. It emerged in a glittering, frosty stream and began to whirl, making of itself an icy goblet brim-full of wine. To this Tyllanthine added powders and plants: another wisp of faerie-grass went in, along with the parasol-mushrooms; a fresh, white snowleaf; a dewdrop of water from each of the pools in the palace courtyard; a golden hair, which could only be one of Anthelaena’s own; a sparkling tear, probably Lihyaen’s; and, incongruously, a tiny cake, cloud-like and frosted. Anthelaena’s favourite.
As each item left Tyllanthine’s fingers it vanished into the icy goblet without trace, as though it had never been. But each added its potency to th
