by K. M. Shea
Angelique awkwardly cleared her throat, then made a show of wrinkling her nose. “For all the Chosen’s planning and cunning, one would think they’d have recognized by now that Evariste’s magic makes the curse easily breakable using romantic love. Though I still don’t understand why it would be friendship for your curse and romantic love for every other curse. Do you know how much easier these curses would be if they all involved the power of friendship?”
“I suspect it has something to do with Evariste’s mental state,” Themerysaldi said.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Angelique demanded. “Evariste isn’t sitting locked in a mirror flirting with sorceresses!”
Briefly, Angelique remembered the so-realistic-it-almost-felt-true string of dreams she’d had when chasing the wyvern in Kozlovka. Whether she was just suffering from exhaustion while chasing the wyvern, or whether her conscious was guiltily wondering if Evariste was dead, she’d dreamed of him for several brief nights.
He’d looked awful—pale, dull, and the bright light in his eyes was broken.
No. That was just a dream.
“I’m not getting involved because I’m fairly certain Evariste wouldn’t want me involved,” Themerysaldi said cryptically, interrupting Angelique’s grim memories.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” Themerysaldi looked down his nose at her—or rather he had to look up his nose, as Pegasus was larger than Pookie. “Except perhaps the Chosen are more intelligent than you suggest, and that’s why there haven’t been any new curses.”
“Maybe.” Thinking of Carabosso’s escape—which still brought a bitter taste to her mouth—she continued, “The black mages are certainly active enough that they must be doing something. And we haven’t even seen that magical mirror yet.”
She glanced down at Themerysaldi. “I assume you didn’t say anything earlier about Evariste because you couldn’t, since his magic was tied up in your curse?”
“Correct.”
Angelique nodded slowly.
“What will you do with this knowledge?” Themerysaldi asked.
“I’m not sure there’s much we can do—except double down on our goal to find him,” Angelique said.
“There is one additional takeaway one could conclude from this knowledge,” Themerysaldi said.
“What’s that?”
“If they aren’t using Evariste’s magic to forge curses anymore, they’ve got another trick they’re planning,” Themerysaldi said. “There’s no possible way that the Chosen—organized and prepared to an extent we can’t fathom—are letting him sit around uselessly. They must be using his magic to further their nefarious purposes in one way or another.”
“Probably, yes.” Angelique tried to swallow, but couldn’t. “We have to find him,” she whispered.
“We do,” Themerysaldi agreed. “If you and Quinn haven’t found him by the time I recover my soldiers, and my forces have enough time to regenerate their magic, I will ride with you. We will find him—even if we have to uncover the entire continent stone by stone.”
“Thank you, Themerysaldi.”
“Please. You are a friend to my people—finally. Call me Emerys.”
When they returned to Sideralis, Angelique looked in on the still-unconscious Quinn long enough to confirm she was improving and to renew the healing spells she’d placed on her. Emerys came in and made a big show of insisting on staying with Quinn, so Angelique willingly surrendered her to his loving—if not overly-protective—care, and returned to her room where she promptly passed out.
When she awoke, the sky was gold with sunset, the air was so crisp it blew out the haze left over from Angelique’s nap, and the courtyard was swimming with Farset troops.
Angelique leaned an elbow on her wooden windowsill and scrunched her nose. “Well. This is both a welcome and burdensome sight. I’ve managed to avoid visiting King Dirth and Queen Orsina even though they knew I was in the area, but with this many of their people around, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep that record going.”
She drummed her fingers on the windowsill and glanced down at her glowing, color changing dress—which, even among the beauty of the elves—would make her stick out.
But Evariste had this dress made for me as a gift. And for some reason that makes me reluctant to change it out just for a selfish desire to avoid a royal who is more-than-likely going to ask me to run magical errands for him.
Angelique pushed away from the window, crossed her room, and slipped outside into the hallway.
She was in her usual rooms in the guest wing—which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace from where Quinn was staying in Emerys’s rooms.
As she swept down the hallway, she considered putting on an invisibility charm to make it easier to sneak her way across the palace.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t made up her mind by the time she ambled down the stairs, popped out into the large atrium that made up the heart of the elven palace, and almost ran down a woman who was carrying a satchel filled with papers.
“I say!” The woman—who had to be a representative of King Dirth given the royal emblem emblazoned on her satchel—adjusted the glasses perched at the end of her nose and scowled. “I beg your pardon…” She trailed off as she looked Angelique up and down from head to toe. “Lady Enchantress Angelique?”
Angelique forced a smile. “Correct—a very good guess.”
The woman’s face shifted from fussy to delighted. “Not at all—King Dirth personally gave me your description! Since receiving reports that you were staying with the elves, he was hoping I might see you!” She unbuttoned her satchel and started pawing through her papers as rocks started to fill Angelique’s belly.
Oh, no.
“He has several requests that you might see to whilst you’re in the country,” the official continued. “Foremost, he asks that you visit him at Navia so he might explain those requests in greater detail.”
Angelique gripped the top layer of her skirt so tightly her knuckles turned white. No, no, no! I’m finally free—I finally get the chance to go search Mullberg for Evariste, not play solo mage for the continent again!
Oblivious to Angelique’s swelling emotions, the official rattled on. “But in short, we require assistance with an outbreak of wraiths, trolls, and goblins—though it seems like those have mostly been handled.”
Angelique tried to swallow, but her throat felt like someone was squeezing it so tightly she could barely breathe.
“The King also requests a thorough investigation into the curse, naturally,” the official continued. “And he requires—”
“I’m afraid I must behave most rudely and intrude upon this conversation, but it must be said that the Lady Enchantress will be unable to help because she has tasks to see to outside of Farset that are extremely pressing.”
Angelique and the official turned together to the delightful, wonderful, and most under-appreciated Lady Alastryn, who had just elevated herself to a saint-like status in Angelique’s mind.
The elven lady—who looked beautiful and perfect with not a strand of hair out of place or wrinkle to be seen, even though Angelique suspected she hadn’t slept since the elves curse had broken—smiled demurely and clasped her hands together in a pleading gesture.
“But it is for the best, for now that we elves are free from our woods, it is our honor and our duty to partner with King Dirth to end the monsters that plague our neighbors,” Lady Alastryn said. “And while Angelique is unavailable, it is my understanding that several other mages are working with Prince Severin of Loire. Once a message is sent, perhaps one of them would be willing to help.”
Bless the elves. I repent for every mean thought I’ve had about them. Emerys might not be willing to help me search for Evariste, but if he’ll cover for me so I can actually search, it would mean the world to me.
The tightness in Angelique’s chest loosened, and she releas
ed the breath she’d been holding.
“Wouldn’t you agree, Lady Enchantress, that a mage would love to aid us?” Lady Alastryn’s perfect forehead wrinkled in concern as she glanced at Angelique.
Angelique laughed a little in her relief. “Yes, of course! A number of mages were going to report in to Prince Severin once they cleared their schedules—including Mage Finnr, who is a Grandmaster Mage of ice and snow! He is exceptionally strong and would have no trouble disposing of trolls, goblins, and the like.”
Angelique couldn’t help the slightly vicious edge to her smile.
Mage Finnr had been rude at best, and eager to chuck Angelique into battle on her own at worst. He regularly pivoted between scolding Angelique for using her magic without supervision and sending her off against the likes of a wyvern alone because “her magic was made for it.”
Though perhaps I least like him for suggesting Evariste has died and that my search is in vain. Regardless, it does my soul some good to think he will finally be forced to stop judging me and actually help with this mess for once.
The Farset official bobbed—a giant smile brightening her countenance. “Splendid! Naturally the royal family would love to work with the elves on this matter, and the help of any mage would do if the Lady Enchantress has prior obligations to see to—which is most understandable!”
“Indeed,” Lady Alastryn said. “In fact, I believe there is a need for her right now. Quinn—the hero who broke our curse and, as a result, the princesses’ curse—has been awake for some hours now. I was on my way to see if the Lady Enchantress could cast any additional healing spells?”
Recognizing the offered exit, Angelique tipped her head slightly. “Yes, of course. I shall check in on her this very moment. Thank you.”
She hurried off, walking faster than was polite and not caring one bit as she marched across the massive chamber, passing under the branches of several trees that still bore bright green leaves.
The atrium was one of the most gorgeous feats of architecture on the continent with its massive, arched, glass-glazed roof that stretched so high the elves grew full sized trees in the indoor space, and flowers bloomed in it year-round, giving the palace a woody and floral scent.
Angelique almost tripped on a box of gardening tools—elven made, so of course they were inlaid with glittering gems and the crate that held them was made of white wood and was held together by elaborate iron work around the edges—when she popped out on the other side of the green expanse and continued her storm to Emerys’ room.
The King’s bedroom was easy to find—it was the only room in the royal wing that contained a double-arched doorway. Angelique wrapped her knuckles on the wooden door’s polished surface but swung it open without waiting for permission to enter.
She poked her head inside to see Quinn sitting up in the enormous bed, with a young lady sitting in a chair pulled up to her bed.
“Lady Enchantress Angelique, good evening.” Quinn smiled brightly as her companion popped to her feet and bowed.
Angelique did a double-take between the pair for a moment—Quinn’s friend possessed the same blond hair, quick smile, and had a marked resemblance in the chin and nose to the soldier, though she was markedly shorter.
“Hello. I hope I’m not interrupting anything?” Angelique hovered in the doorway, unsure if she should enter or leave.
“Not at all,” Quinn’s friend said. “I’m actually glad I have this chance to speak with you. Thank you for healing my sister—you saved her life.” She bowed a second time to Angelique, and the smile she wore looked a tiny bit watery, but happy.
“I don’t know that things were that dire, but I’m glad I could help.” Angelique closed the door behind her before coming to stand at the foot of the bed.
Quinn struggled to sit up taller and pushed pillows out of her way. “Lady Enchantress Angelique, please allow me to introduce my little sister—Bridget. She’s the Red Rider.”
Dimly, Angelique recalled that the Farset royal family had magicus mounts—colored horses given to them by the elves as a symbol of their co-mingling of Farset. Each color of horse represented something different of the royal family’s power, and the herds were said to allow only one rider to claim them at a time.
If I remember correctly, the Red Rider is the warrior out of the magicus mounts. It seems bravery runs in the family.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Bridget,” Angelique said.
“The pleasure is all mine. I’ve heard what you did to the goblins, thank you.” Bridget looked at Angelique with something like admiration—which felt a little odd considering the petite rider was carrying a sword and at least two daggers that Angelique could see, though she was betting the Red Rider had more hidden based on the pleased hum of her core magic.
“Bridget took out the few goblin bands that were marching for Navia,” Quinn explained.
“I rode south after facing them—I was hoping I could be of some help with the rest of the goblins—but you’d already taken care of the southern force by then,” Bridget explained. “You’re amazing,” she added in a voice that brimmed with sincerity.
“Um,” Angelique awkwardly said.
I have always respected those who serve in the military and fight to protect others since my father was a solider, too. It feels strange to have their admiration when they are far braver.
“She is very impressive,” Quinn agreed. “And the variety in her abilities is astounding. Which reminds me, I, too, must thank you for saving my life, Lady Enchantress, with your healing magic.”
“It was nothing,” Angelique said.
“It was everything to me,” Quinn said.
“To our family,” Bridget added. “We owe you a great debt, Lady Enchantress—as does our entire country, for you saved the elves just as surely as you saved my sister.”
Angelique felt a blush heat her cheeks. “I’m afraid you’re overestimating me. It is merely that I have magic, which makes fighting such an army far easier.”
Quinn shook her head. “I saw the price you paid, and the way you used your magic. It was not easier.”
“I am certain your skill with magic is to be admired, but it is your passion to protect others that sets you apart,” Bridget added, the two sisters combining their earnest sincerity to make even Angelique’s jaded—and admittedly slightly embittered—heart twist in her chest.
Is there something special about this family that both of these sisters are able to so entirely put me off my guard? Listening to them makes me want to be proud of who I am.
Angelique shuddered a little at that uncomfortable thought and cast around for a new conversation topic—one that perhaps wouldn’t embarrass her as much. “Be that as it may, I am glad to see you are awake, Quinn. I’d like to place another slow healing spell on you—that shoulder wound of yours looked rather tricky, and I don’t imagine you’re the type to willingly rest in bed while healing.”
Bridget backed away from the bed, giving Angelique room to approach Quinn, and folded her arms across her chest. “No, she’s not.”
Quinn grimaced. “I am not typically the most ideal patient.” She glared at her sister when Bridget scoffed.
“May I?” Angelique rolled back the collar of Quinn’s shirt when she nodded—someone had helped the soldier into a clean elven tunic. The soft fabric stretched nicely, giving Angelique a view of the wound.
The wound was closed—though the skin was still an angry red and was slightly swollen—but the elves must have been happy with Quinn’s progress or they would have kept it bandaged.
“It seems you are doing quite well—though another slow-burn healing spell will ease some of the pain and continue to encourage swift healing.” Angelique flexed her fingers, calling some of her magic up as she carefully twisted it from her cold, metallic core magic into the fine fibers of a healing spell.
Bridget snorted like a horse. “She’s doing more than quite well. I almost felt the need to cleanse my eyes when I innocent
ly entered the room to find Quinn and the king of the elves passionately kissing—”
“The Lady Enchantress doesn’t need to hear about that!” Quinn turned bright red and sank back in the plump pillows surrounding her.
Angelique laughed at the interchange as she layered the spell into Quinn’s shoulder. “He officially confessed, did he? And you love him in return, I take it?”
Quinn reflexively reached for her waist—probably to rest her fingers on a belt that wasn’t there. “I—yes,” she stammered. “Very much so.”
“In that case congratulations are in order,” Angelique said. “Emerys couldn’t have found a better bride—and future queen!”
Quinn made a strangled noise, but Bridget laughed openly, planting her feet wide so she could drop her head back and project it into the tall ceiling.
Angelique listened with amusement as she worked on the last bit of the healing spell.
I can’t say I think Emerys deserves her—Quinn is too good and kind and heroic while he’s sharp-mouthed, bad tempered, and blood-thirsty at times.
Again the nagging sensation nudged her mind that Angelique was quite similar to the prickly king—and based on their short acquaintance, it would seem Quinn was a great deal like Evariste.
Maybe that’s why I think he doesn’t deserve her. Just as I don’t deserve—
Angelique firmly shut the door on that ridiculous thought and hurriedly finished off the healing spell, giving her the opportunity to step back. “There. You’ll be set.”
“Thank you, Angelique.” Quinn awkwardly maneuvered her neck so she could peer down at the wound before she readjusted the collar of her tunic so it settled straight on her shoulders. “I appreciate the extra boost. It will mean I am ready that much more quickly to join you on your search.”
Angelique blinked, completely lost. “Sorry—what?”
“The search for your master.” Quinn slowly rolled her shoulders back, testing her arm. “I’m aware you’ll want to leave as quickly as possible. I shall do my best to prepare with all speed.”
Confusion buzzed in Angelique’s mind. “Pardon?”