There it was again, the idea I could fix anything. I sighed and studied our men, searching for some clue that might undo this. Noting the flowers and flower oil, I momentarily hoped removing them would do the trick. But not everyone had flower exposure. There was just something intoxicating and deadly about the dryads’ presence that created this enchantment. I’d certainly experienced it.

Out of answers, I summoned Volusian. He appeared in the shade of a magnolia tree and took in the scene at a glance.

“My mistress has been visited by dryads.”

I nearly sagged in relief. Identification had to be a good sign. “Do you know how to fix this? Can we bring them back?”

“I would think my mistress would appreciate the peace and quiet,” he said.

“Volusian! Answer the damned questions!”

His eyes narrowed—in thought or irritation, I couldn’t say. “I don’t know, mistress. Many men don’t recover from dryad magic. There are ways to combat it, but they don’t always work. Dryad victims usually starve to death or wander off of cliffs.”

“Geez,” said Jasmine. “They must really hate men.”

“What do we have to do?” I asked Volusian.

“You can start by placing mistletoe berries under their tongues. A single one will do,” he said.

I frowned. “I’m sketchy on my botany ... but isn’t mistletoe poisonous?”

“Not always fatally so,” Volusian replied. “Especially in such a minute amount. At most, they will get fantastically ill, but that hardly seems worse than their present condition.”

“‘Fantastically ill.’ What a great image,” I said. “Then what? They’re cured?”

“No. Mistletoe simply weakens the dryads’ magic—but it cannot break it. To fully pull them out of the spell, you must give them a reason to come back. The dryads weave an enchantment of perfect contentment. Most don’t want to leave that.”

I thought back to our waterside slumber party. I wouldn’t exactly say I’d been perfectly content, but I had been charmed enough by simple hairstyling to obliviously waste part of the day. If we’d felt that way from just a brush of dryad magic, what would the full force of it do?

“So ... when you say give them a reason, do you mean talk to them? Can they even hear us?” I glanced at the blank gazes around me. “It sure doesn’t seem that way.”

“If what you have to say is meaningful enough to them, they will hear it. That and the mistletoe may be able to free them of the enchantment. Much depends on the individual’s will. The weak rarely escape.”

I didn’t like the implications. “Well, this is a pretty strong group. If anyone can break free, they can. So ... we need mistletoe and a pep talk.”

Keeli stepped toward Volusian and crossed her arms. “Spirit, what kind of mistletoe is required? White?”

“That would work best,” he confirmed.