by K. M. Shea
Gabrielle was Marquis of Carabas and the wife of Crown Prince Steffen. She also happened to be a personal friend of Angelique and the mistress of Roland Archibald Whisperpaws the Fifth—or Puss, as he was known these days—who was a magic cat and an old friend of Angelique’s.
Gabrielle and Puss also frequently went out on patrols, though they weren’t sent as often given Gabi’s position as Crown Princess.
“Ahh, yes. Gabrielle.” Elle’s expression was too innocent as she stared into the fire. “Such a charming young lady.”
“She’s a year or two older than you,” Angelique said.
Elle casually stretched her legs out in front of her and glanced up at the evergreen they’d taken refuge near to keep out of the snow. “Is she? I wouldn’t know.”
Angelique narrowed her eyes.
She’s hiding something.
“Is there a reason you insisted on buying an additional cloak when Quinn, you, and I have cloaks that you assured us would be reasonable for the subterfuge roles you have in mind?” Angelique asked, fishing for information.
“Must I need a reason?” Elle asked.
“Did you hear that?” Quinn abruptly turned around, frowning as she peered around the boughs of their protective evergreen.
Elle and Angelique exchanged glances and warily stood. “Hear what?”
Snow crunched.
Quinn nocked an arrow and swung her bow up, aiming before Angelique blinked.
Distantly, a goblin screamed.
“Sounds like the goblins that left the tracks are coming out to play,” Elle said.
Three goblins burst out of the shadows, the orange blaze of the fire making their green hued skin glow.
“Forest goblins.” Angelique automatically reached for her magic, but jerked herself to a stop just in time.
Wait…without my magic, what do I do?
Evidently, the answer was stand there like a delicate, blooming, and useless flower.
Quinn downed a goblin and nocked an arrow and loosened it at her next target with a grace and speed that rivaled the elves.
Elle whipped two daggers out of a hidden pocket in her gray cloak and threw them at the last remaining goblin, which toppled over with a gurgling cry.
And just like that, the fight was over.
Elle eased out of the crouch she’d folded herself into and trotted up to the dead goblins. “Your archery skills are quite impressive, Quinn.”
Quinn frowned a little as she yanked her arrows free and retreated to the farthest edge of their campsite—where only flickers from the fire reached—and wiped the arrows off in the snow. “Thank you. It’s part of my training—though I’m afraid I’m not nearly as fast nor accurate with any other weapon.”
“That hardly matters. Your archery skills alone are impressive enough to make my heart beat faster,” Elle said.
Quinn bemusedly smiled a little as she inspected the tips of the arrows before dunking them in the snow once more. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard such an enthusiastic take on archery before. Are you well, Angelique?”
Angelique turned in a circle, straining her ears. “Yes, I’m fine.” She narrowed her eyes as she stared into the blueish shadows of the night. “I just thought there might be more—the goblin scream we first heard was too far away to be one of the three that attacked us.”
Elle pulled her daggers free from the goblin carcass and joined Quinn in wiping them off in the snow to get rid of the goblin blood. “Ohh, now that’s an unfortunately accurate point.”
Something scuffled in the snow, and Quinn and Elle swung around to face the noise, their weapons raised.
Unexpectedly, a goblin emerged from the shadows at the opposite side of the camp.
Angelique opened her mouth to warn the pair, but the goblin threw a spear at her.
She ducked it, but it took all of her self-control not to automatically raise a shield or bury the monster with her magic.
It was a strange sensation, to fight against her finely honed instincts. She hadn’t realized that focusing on not using her magic would take so much self-control, and she didn’t wrestle herself into submission until the goblin had cleared half of the space between them.
She opened her mouth to yell when the goblin abruptly froze, all of the air left him in a surprised gasp, and he toppled forward.
Behind him stood a beautiful woman with long, silken hair that was the crystalline color of honey, and eyes that were a dark amber color.
A black and white cat was crouched on her shoulder, his bronze eyes glittering in the dim firelight.
Angelique stared dumbly at the pair in a mixture of shock and delight. “Gabrielle? Puss?”
The cat twitched his whiskers, which made the black, half-mustache that covered one side of his face move. “Are you sincerely inquiring? If so, I worry some of your cranial capacity has leaked out your ears from the various missions Prince Severin has sent you out on and will resolve to sternly lecture him so as to warn him off from doing so in the future.”
Gabrielle, the Crown Princess of Arcainia, grinned—which increased her beauty from gorgeous to stunning. “Hello, Angelique!”
Angelique blinked, still trying to process their presence. “What are you doing here? We’re not that close to the Arcainian border, are we?” She swung around to peer at Elle as Quinn joined her in observing the Loire princess.
Elle planted a hand on her cheek and looked innocent. “What? Why does everyone assume I did something?”
“Because usually you have done something,” Quinn said. “And I know that after only a short acquaintance.”
“Short but heartfelt,” Elle corrected. “We’re friends now.”
“Elle,” Angelique said.
“Fine, fine. I may have notified them of your actions via magic mirror just before I left Chanceux.”
Quinn finished wiping her dirtied arrows off with a cloth before returning them to her belt quiver. “Ahh, I see. That’s why you were so insistent we travel at a normal pace when you could have easily ridden double with Angelique or me.”
“Maybe. Yes,” Elle admitted.
“While the reception we’ve received has been simply divine,” Puss drawled, “perhaps we ought to dispose of these goblins?”
“Ahhh, yes.” Quinn peered down at one of the goblin carcasses. “I was considering it might be easier to simply move camp.”
“Probably.” Gabrielle glided closer, the fire making her honey-colored hair glow. “Especially with Puss here. He’s got a few useful spells for camping.”
“A few?” Puss sputtered. “I’ll have you know I am a veritable treasure when it comes to camping conveniences!”
Gabrielle ignored him and smiled at Quinn. “I’m Gabrielle, by the way. This is Puss.”
“Master Puss, that is,” Puss corrected her. “And you ought to introduce yourself by your official title.”
“Crown Princess of Arcainia?”
“No! I was referring to the title that matters: Marquis of Carabas and hero of the people!”
Quinn grabbed an armload of the wood she’d collected for the campfire. “I am happy to make your acquaintance. I am Quinn of Midnight Lake. I’m a soldier in the Farset army.”
“And the future bride of the King of elves!” Elle dumped snow on the campfire. The hot coals hissed as the fire sputtered and went out.
“Ohhh, you’re that Quinn! I heard of your adventures when Severin sent out a notice to the alliance,” Gabrielle said.
“Saving the elves is quite the impressive feat—for a human,” Puss added.
Angelique could only dumbly stare as the others scuttled around the camp, preparing to move. I’ve got two princesses and a future queen camping with me as we plan to break into a Chosen stronghold run by black mages. Why is everyone acting like this is a social tea? “But…Gabrielle, Puss…why are you here?”
Gabrielle—visible in the dim light of the moon that reflected off the snow so brightly, Angelique could make out some o
f her facial features—cocked her head. “We’ve come to help you, of course.”
Puss crouched on Gabrielle, his rear going up as he braced his paws on her shoulder before he jumped, springing into Angelique’s arms. He dug his claws into the fabric of her cloak as he pushed his face into hers. “And please allow me to assure you that you need our help.”
Angelique cleared her throat around the inexplicable lump that gathered there. “But…”
“We’ve been failing you,” Gabrielle rested her hand on the pommel of her sword strapped to her belt. “You’ve done so much for the continent, and we’ve done so little to help you. It’s time we change that.”
Elle, having finished rolling up her things and strapping them to her pony, used a piece of firewood to point at Gabrielle. “Exactly! Yes! Frankly, it’s making me feel horrible that you’re so touched by this. You’re our friend, Angelique. We should help you—or we’d be the worst type of friends.”
Quinn leaned against Fluffy. “We’re going to prioritize Evariste because he’s important to you.”
“When Elle reached out to tell me what you were doing, I knew I had to come,” Gabrielle said. “It will be my honor to finally have a chance to try and repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me and Arcainia, and for all the sacrifices you’ve made on behalf of the continent.”
The pang in Angelique’s heart was so foreign (it had been so long since she’d last felt it) that it took her a few moments to realize she was happy.
She was glad it was dark—it meant no one saw when she started to cry, but she did sniff and mash her face into Puss’s fur.
The persnickety cat didn’t even complain. He purred with such strength, his entire body vibrated.
Gabrielle slid her arms around Angelique, hugging her as Angelique hugged Puss. “We’re here for you.”
“Thank you.” Angelique’s voice was watery, and some of Puss’s hair was sticking to her face while her tears burned her cheeks, but Angelique felt happier than she had in years. “Thank you,” she repeated.
Quinn strode up to the still-embracing Angelique and Gabrielle. She set one hand on Angelique’s shoulder, then tipped forward so their foreheads touched.
“Wait! Me, too!” Elle dropped the bag she’d been holding and jumped into the huddle, throwing her arms around Quinn and Gabrielle.
“Careful—Angelique is holding precious cargo,” Puss chided.
Angelique laughed and enjoyed the closeness and companionship she’d been longing for ever since Evariste left.
She wanted the moment to last, but after a few heartbeats, she cleared her voice. “As lovely as this is, we probably ought to move camp—or we’ll be up half the night.”
“You have a point.” Elle let go and backed up, giving the other women space to part.
As Angelique watched them go, a part of her realized the hugs and companionship she experienced with Evariste were…different.
Not any less precious, but it has a different feeling to it. But why? Evariste was my master, but he was undoubtedly my friend as well. He’s only a few years older than I am.
Puss waited until everyone had settled back into their tasks before he touched his nose to Angelique’s. “You’ve done well,” he gruffly said. “I’m very proud of you.”
Angelique grinned. “Thanks, Puss.”
He flicked his tail, then jumped from Angelique’s arms to the snow-covered ground with a displeased sniff. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”
Elle finished securing some of the firewood to her pony and laughed sheepishly. “Since now seems to be the time for heartfelt moments, I feel like I should confess I didn’t contact Gabrielle just because I was aware she’s close with you, Angelique,” Elle said. “I was rather hoping she’d come.”
“Oh?” Gabrielle asked. “You thought you’d need muscle, and I could provide it?”
“That was part of it,” Elle acknowledged. “But it was that you’re incredibly deadly, and you’re a two-part deal with Puss and…” Elle held a finger up in the air. “You’re amazingly gorgeous.”
Gabrielle propped a hand on her hip, a frown twitching across her lips. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Why, everything!” Elle rubbed her hands together. “Because it opens up a great deal of possibilities with our disguises!”
Quinn swung onto Fluffy’s back. “Like what?”
“Oh-ho-ho-ho, just wait,” Elle chortled. “This is going to be my finest disguise yet!”
“This is the Chosen stronghold?” Angelique squinted at the building and tried not to let logic color her expectations.
It looked like any cottage owned by a small-scale merchant or tradesman that could be found in the countryside. A few tendrils of dead ivy dusted with snow clung to stone walls; smoke curled from the chimney, and the snow had been swept off the front step. Matched with the gray shingled roof, the building elicited a quaint feeling. There were a few windows with wooden shutters, but the cottage was smaller than Evariste’s home in Wistful Thicket. It was just a single floor with two visible doors.
But it wasn’t so much the inconspicuous outside—that was to be expected; the Chosen wouldn’t wish to declare they’d taken up residence. That would be a stupid mistake the centuries-old organization wasn’t likely to make. Rather, it was the size that had Angelique doubting their information.
“I thought you said it was a ‘moderate’ den?” Quinn asked—voicing Angelique’s doubts.
“It’s dug into the ground,” Elle supplied. She briefly peered around the tree trunk she was stationed behind—to avoid the detection spells and charms they had stopped far enough away from the cottage that Elle had to hunch awkwardly to see through the trees. “As best as the ranger could tell, the actual magic workshop is underground.”
Gabrielle gripped her shut fan in her hand rather more like a dagger than a lady wielding a tool of flirtation. “It’s a good plan—the smaller size makes them less noticeable.”
“It’s also probably why this is the first fortification of worth we’ve found rather than just piddling locations they abandon at a moment’s notice.” Elle scowled at the building. “It’s built to be a longstanding front—not something temporary. Is everyone ready? We know our parts?”
Gabrielle, wearing a beautiful deep blue gown with a dove-gray cloak that was decoratively spattered with embroidery, reluctantly opened her fan. “I am, but I think I have the easiest part.”
“I’m not so certain about that,” Quinn said.
“But I don’t even have to talk!”
“Perhaps, but your role is the most important.” Elle stamped snow off her boots. She was wearing a worn blue skirt with a dark green shawl, which was mostly covered by her traveling cloak. “You’ve got to convince them you’re a mage.”
“Please, I’m just a puppet. Puss will be doing the magic for me.” Gabrielle made a noise in the back of her throat, then uncomfortably twisted her head to glance at Puss, who was crouched on her shoulder. “What do you think, Puss? Are you ready?”
Puss twitched his whiskers. “Please,” he scoffed. “Fooling these buffoons will be the merest child’s play. They don’t even have any listening spells set up on the grounds—just a few weak alarms.”
“If we botch things up, I can use my magic,” Angelique said. “But we’d like to avoid that because we’ll notify the entire Chosen network that we know this place exists. It’d be better for Severin and his men to quietly take them out and catch them unaware.”
Angelique chewed on her lip and tried to ignore the ball of nerves building in her gut.
This is the best chance I’ve had in a long time at learning more about Evariste. Will I actually uncover anything helpful? Or will this be just another dead end?
Quinn rested a hand on Angelique’s shoulder. “We can handle this.” She looked comfortable in her clothes. Playing the part of the guard, she was wearing a tunic with a leather doublet, a sword belt, arm guards, and leather pauldro
ns. “We’re just making ourselves known and trying to get a layout of the place.”
That was the plan—to make two trips in their disguises. The first visit would give them the opportunity to see inside the building—something the Loire ranger, as talented as they are, had been unable to accomplish—and assess the situation. It was during the second trip that they’d make their move and snoop.
“Right, then. Ladies—and gentle-cat—shall we?” Elle’s green eyes practically glowed with mischief and excitement.
Gabrielle adjusted the hood of her cloak. “Lead on.”
“So it begins.” Puss flicked his tail back and forth before he activated an advanced invisibility charm. His form shimmered for a moment before he faded entirely from view.
Given that he was a cat, Puss didn’t have a magical signature the way Angelique or any other mage would, but the second charm he activated was a basic magic-misdirection spell, which made magic hang in the air around him…and Gabrielle, who was disguised as their employer and a mage.
Elle put on a pair of rudimentary eye glasses that had thick metal frames and winked before she set off. The air around her entirely changed as she took on the role as the most trusted servant of mage-Gabrielle. She even changed how she walked so it was more of a shuffling, half- bent gait, and her black hair was pulled back in an almost scholarly bun and covered with a yellowed handkerchief. She had to furrow her brow a little to keep the glasses in place, which gave her more wrinkles and aged her by a few years.
Gabrielle followed behind her, her skirts sweeping and her chin lifted high as she raised the fan to cover the lower half of her face. Her role of lady mage was an effortless fit—she had a natural grace to her that was only complimented by the social training she’d received when she became Crown Princess of Arcainia. Though Puss provided the air of magic around her, Gabrielle made it believable by the confidence she held, and the hint of danger to her posture. (That danger was the instincts of an accomplished and deadly swordswoman, not a mage, but the Chosen likely wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, particularly with Puss’s spell hanging around her.)