Anna looked up—but thankfully, saw that the expression on her aunt’s face wasn’t anger.

It was worry. And a little fear.

“Nothin’, truly!” she hastened to say. “Not one thing! She said it were her—” Her brow furrowed as she strove to remember the exact wording. “She said it were in her interest to see thet magicians in her orbit were prop’ly trained, an’ thet it ’mused her t’vex y’all.”

“I c’n b’lieve she said thet,” Jinny replied, looking relieved, but in a sour tone. “’Bout wantin’ t’vex me, that is. I ain’t what she wanted, an’ she ain’t niver gonna let thet go.”

That last made absolutely no sense to Anna, and she didn’t even try to puzzle it out. “What’d she mean by magicians in her orbit?” she asked her aunt, instead. The phrase had puzzled her.

“Them of us as got th’ Glory what’s livin’ around about these here parts. I ain’t entirely sure how big thet territory is, but I knows it means at least from the Holler all th’ way to Ducktown an’ past th’ Burra Burra mine. All’a th’ Ducktown basin an’ inter th’ mountains.” Aunt Jinny paused. “She’s the strongest thang in these here parts, an’ don’t y’all ever fergit thet. Not for one minute. And that’s ’nuff questions fer now. I reckon she larned y’all not on’y how t’ draw up th’ Glory, but how t’ put it in thangs too. An’ thet’s why them roses weren’t wilted when y’all come back t’ th’ cabin this arternoon.”

Anna nodded, biting her lip.

“All right then.” Jinny stood next to the basket with her hands on her hips. “Show me.”

Anna spread her hands over the basket and let the Glory sift down into the basket like a rain of golden dust. Jinny watched for a moment, smiled spitefully, then said, “Stop.”

Anna closed her hands and bit her lip. “Am I doin’ somethin’ wrong?”

“Not wrong, ’xactly.” There was that spiteful smile again. “Jest provin’ thet Jolene don’t know ever’thang. Y’all’s wastin’ half th’ Glory, doin’ it thet way. Watch me.”

Aunt Jinny sketched three little signs in the air, then opened her own hands and let the Glory drop into the basket. But it didn’t just dust down onto the potion packets; the power made dusty little green and gold ribbons that spiraled around each other and deliberately down into the basket of packets, moving around like lazy, miniature whirlwinds. “Green fer healin’,” murmured Jinny. “An’ gold fer strenthenin’. These here is fer Winter Fever. Y’all cain’t just sift down raw Glory on ’em, like y’all did on th’ roses.” She closed her hand and the little whirlwinds collapsed down into the basket.

“Was them magic signs y’all was makin’?” Anna asked breathlessly.

“Yes’n’no. They ain’t magic thesselves, cause they don’t do spit without y’all got the Glory behind it. But this’s how m’ Granny larned me t’ make th’ Glory do whatcher want.” She nodded sagely. “Jest y’all watch. This’un here’s fer healin’—”