by K. M. Shea
Quinn and Angelique followed behind. Elle had opted to give them less flashy roles, because—when given the chance—they’d be able to fade in the background and hopefully search the premises.
Quinn was especially convincing as a guard—and her stealth training as a Farset soldier made her particularly easy to overlook.
(“You’ll need roles as close to your reality as possible—it’s what will make the act extra convincing,” Elle had explained the day she fitted everyone to their roles.)
Angelique was also dressed as a guard (“We have to explain that dangerous edge of yours somehow!”). But, unlike Quinn, she was wearing a full helm that obscured her unusual silver-colored eyes, and Elle had padded her tunic with extra layers of cloth to bulk up her body before pinning up her hair so none of it could be seen.
Angelique highly doubted any Chosen would recognize her on sight, but Severin and Elle had suspected since the previous summer that the Chosen were targeting Angelique, and after being attacked by a Chosen mage who had the ability to wield weapons made of shadows, she was less inclined to disagree with them.
Their unlikely quartet trooped through the woods, Angelique and Quinn looking around—alert and with their hands resting on the pommels of their swords, though Angelique’s palms were clammy with sweat—while Gabrielle imperiously marched ahead, and Elle scuttled at her side.
When they reached the door, Gabrielle stuck out her chin and glanced down at Elle.
Elle scurried forward and rapped her knuckles on the door. “Ahem, ahem!” She said in a dry and reedy voice. “Entrance is demanded on behalf of the beautiful and powerful Mademoiselle Mystrim!”
The door swung open, and a sallow-faced girl with eyes suspiciously narrowed and a runny nose peered out at them. “Don’t know no Mademoiselle Mystrim,” she snapped.
Elle leaned in and muttered. “I should think not—she is far above you. Now let us in, Infinito.”
The girl blinked at the whispered code word—which Severin’s skilled ranger had ferreted out after listening to several Chosen enter the place.
Angelique’s heart galloped in her chest. It was hard to breathe as she waited for the girl’s reaction.
Will this work, or have they already changed the password?
The moment stretched on for what felt like forever, before the girl backed up. “You have to leave all weapons outside.”
Elle sniffed. “Very well. Guards?”
Quinn and Angelique unbuckled their sword belts and tossed them aside.
Based on Quinn’s bland expression, you’d never guess that she had at least a dozen hidden daggers sheathed in her boots and secret pockets in her tunic.
Elle was similarly outfitted. Gabrielle had pins with sharpened points jabbed in her hair, and Angelique had sharpened fragments of a starfire crystal in her pockets as backup. As the crystals were broken, they carried no magical signature, but they were Angelique’s backup weapons in case the Chosen were able to detect the party’s hidden blades.
Using her magic, even tiny shards would be deadly enough to get them out of any sticky situation they may encounter—though Angelique wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of using her core magic.
Angelique waited to see if the girl had a detection spell on her and would demand they hand over their hidden weapons, but the girl dully rubbed her shoulder. “I’ll lead you to the master,” she said.
Angelique was lightheaded with her relief. She had to press her lips tight together to keep herself from letting a relieved sigh escape her.
Elle winked at her before slouching in first, Gabrielle following at a more sedate and less attentive pace. Quinn nodded slightly at Angelique, offered her a flash of a smile, and then ducked through the narrow cottage door.
Angelique followed her, feeling more than a little crowded as they marched down the narrow, darkened hallway.
They passed five doors before the girl—an apprentice, maybe?—led them to a backroom filled with tables upon tables of jewelry, and seeped with the oily, oozing sensation of black magic.
It prickled at Angelique’s nerves, and it took everything she had not to react to the uncomfortable feeling. She had an inkling a mere guard shouldn’t be able to feel any magic, so she didn’t react, even when she could see the shadows of black magic playing around some of the glittering jewels set in precious metals.
Even though it was mid-morning, the windows were shuttered tight, and the only light was the fire burning in the fireplace and several sputtering lights in glass oil lamps that were foggy with years of smoke.
The room was icy cold, but none of the outside snow managed to worm its way inside, and Angelique was more inclined to think the low temperature was due to the black magic stored in the gems.
“The master will be along in a moment.” The servant girl studied Gabrielle for a moment, then slunk off, disappearing back up the hallway.
Although Angelique strained her ears to listen, the girl’s footfalls were silent, making it impossible to track where she went.
Quinn settled into a spot near the door—a natural guard position—so Angelique picked a place on the wall between the two shuttered windows that afforded her an excellent view of the bespelled jewels.
Her eyes safely hidden by the shadows of her helm, Angelique narrowed her eyes as she tried to see the spells woven into the jewels.
After a moment, the spell language shimmered into view—for everything in the room.
The glittering letters of magic—twisted by the black enchantments—were unidentifiable from one another as their power filled the room.
If I was better at sensing magic, I might be able to isolate the jewels one at a time and look at the spells that way, but that’s beyond my abilities. Maybe Puss will be able to tell?
Three particularly large jewels set in surprisingly simple necklaces pulsed with exceedingly potent spells.
I can’t guess what’s in them, but it has to be powerful. Why on earth would the Chosen let this place burn with so much black magic? The Veneno Conclave isn’t far beyond Mullberg’s border. There are mages traveling through these parts all of the time!
Angelique clenched her teeth. But obviously they haven’t been found out—and Severin said this place had existed for at least a decade. A testament to just how badly we mages have failed.
The bitterness of regret filled Angelique’s mouth, but when she heard a heavy set of footfalls march down the hallway, she assumed a position of attention, watching Elle and Gabrielle as the pair peered at the rows upon rows of jewels.
A mage stepped into the room, lingering in the doorway.
He appeared to be in his late thirties, perhaps early forties, with silver-streaked hair, and a well-groomed goatee that was also peppered with gray. His face was strong but handsome, and he was well dressed with aquamarine-colored gems that glittered at the cuffs of his white robe and the neckline of his dark brown tunic.
He didn’t look cruel, despite the curls of black magic that wafted into the room after him. Rather, he looked clean cut and presentable.
His presence was unsettling because he wasn’t unsettling. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a prosperous town.
The mage glanced at Quinn, inspecting her in a quick head-to-toe motion. Based on the way his gaze lingered at her waist, Angelique wondered if he had a detection spell or could sense the daggers, but he blew into the room with no hesitation, so he assumedly did not.
Angelique wasn’t entirely surprised—both black mages and regular mages alike always seemed to forget about the existence of physical weapons, including fists. She’d downed more than a couple opponents using physical fight tactics.
The Chosen mage fixed his sight upon Gabrielle and approached her. “Mademoiselle Mystrim, I presume?” His voice was smooth and delectable—like icing on a cake.
Chapter 11
Gabrielle raised her fan to cover her lips. The orange light of the fire made her hair look like it was glowing, and the shadows of the
room seemed to magnify her fine facial features and make her look every bit the mage she was pretending to be. She lazily flicked her eyes to Elle and barely tipped her chin.
“Yes, yes.” Elle scurried forward. “Please allow me to bestow the honor upon you of introducing the renowned Mademoiselle Mystrim.”
“Renowned, is it?” The Chosen mage smirked as he idly stroked his goatee. “And yet I have never heard of the illustrious Mademoiselle Mystrim, much less that she is a member of our…company.”
It was about then that Angelique realized she wasn’t cut out for undercover work. Her mouth went dry, and her heart beat faster and faster—and the mage wasn’t even looking at her, but at Elle!
Elle looked to Gabrielle, who rolled her eyes and gave the sigh of one who finds any sort of exertion cumbersome.
“Yes, yes, of course.” Elle bowed several times to Gabrielle before facing the Chosen mage. “Mademoiselle Mystrim is a particularly talented illusionist who—due to the public fervor for her skills—has, over the past few years, found it necessary to retire to her country home. She has no use for those outside her abode and does not care what a common mage would think of her,” Elle said.
The mage stared at Elle. “You got all of that from a sigh?”
Elle pushed her thick glasses farther up her nose and craned her neck while remaining in her slightly hunched position. “I have had the great honor of serving Mademoiselle Mystrim for many years. It is my job to anticipate her needs before she voices them and to speak what she cannot.”
“Cannot, or doesn’t feel like?” the Chosen mage asked.
Elle scowled. “You dare besmirch my lady?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the Chosen mage said smoothly. “But you are essentially saying your lady is against mingling with society?”
“Indeed.”
He stepped past Angelique and muttered under his breath, “A small mercy for society.”
“What did you say?” Elle’s voice crackled with suspicion, perfectly playing her role of faithful attendant.
“Nothing.” The mage folded his arms across his chest. “But I shall say my own greetings. I am Nefari, the keeper of this modest shop. Now, pray tell what brings the illustrious and rarely seen Mademoiselle Mystrim to my doors?”
Elle turned expectantly to Gabrielle.
Gabrielle tilted her head and fanned herself for a brief moment, then huffed like an offended cat. Puss, most likely.
Elle sagely nodded. “Yes, of course, Mademoiselle.” She turned to the Chosen mage and bowed her head. “With Prince Severin spearheading the useless resistance, Loire has become markedly more…active.”
Nefari certainly didn’t seem to find her words suspicious—he appeared to be much more preoccupied with “Mademoiselle Mystrim’s” disdain for speaking as he looked back and forth between the pair, and wrinkles crinkled his forehead.
“Mademoiselle Mystrim fears certain precautions may become necessary given all of this activity,” Elle continued. “And though she is outstanding at illusions—simply a marvel, there are none better!—she would prefer to have something more, hmm, shall we say, solid to guarantee her safety?”
“And she said all of that with a huff?” Nefari said.
Elle bristled. “Are you implying I am terrible at my job?” Elle whirled around to face Gabrielle. “Mademoiselle Mystrim, strike me down if I have misspoken or misinterpreted your will, please!”
Gabrielle blinked slowly twice, then looked away.
“Ahah!” Elle turned back around to brandish a finger in the Chosen mage’s face. “You see! I understand the Mademoiselle perfectly!”
“Hm,” Nefari said. “Regardless. My work is available in many of our stores. Why did Mademoiselle Mystrim—who finds the public so tiring—come directly here?”
Angelique tried to weigh out his words. Is he testing us, or is he just that curious about Gabrielle’s act?
“We did look at some of your work in other stores.” Elle sniffed and adjusted her glasses. “That was how I knew you were skilled enough to suit Mademoiselle Mystrim’s needs. Unfortunately, we were never able to find anything exactly as my lady wished for—nor as strong. It became apparent we would have to make the journey if we truly wanted anything of worth.”
“Ah.” Nefari shrugged. “I see. Most of my line of protective charms have been diverted to our largest project—as I’m sure you know.”
Largest project? Is that something to do with Evariste? Or are they cooking up something new?
Angelique steeled herself so she continued to look bored and didn’t react.
“What spells are you specifically looking for?” Nefari asked.
Elle looked to Gabrielle.
Gabrielle made a sort of whining sigh.
Elle whipped back around to face the black mage. “The strongest you have.”
Nefari pointedly glanced at Quinn and Angelique. “A bit paranoid, are you?”
“You,” Elle haughtily pushed her glasses up her nose, “Have obviously not been in any territory that Lady Enchantress Angelique passes through, or you’d know just why this is so necessary!”
It was a good thing Angelique was wearing a helm. All of her concern and concentration weren’t enough to keep her from bulging her eyes at Elle in alarm.
What are you doing?!
Surprisingly, Nefari leaned back and smoothed his goatee with a thoughtful gesture. “What you say is true and not unreasonable. Very well. Then I will show you the spells and charms we have that can resist magic cast by an enchanter or enchantress.” He sauntered across the room, heading to the table situated closest to the fireplace.
That actually worked? How?!
Gabrielle glided after him with Elle following at a shuffle.
“Everything available here is crafted at this location. We source our gems from Mullberg—they have superior stones which means they can hold a higher caliber spell,” he explained.
So that’s why they’re willing to set up shop this close to the Veneno Conclave—easier access to raw materials.
“Naturally, this means the larger and higher quality the gem, the more powerful the spell.” The black mage raised an eyebrow. “Just how strong of a spell can you afford?”
Elle peered up at Gabrielle.
Gabrielle lowered her fan long enough to reveal her perfect nose—which she twitched as she made a disdainful “Hm!” noise.
Elle bowed to her. “As you say, Mademoiselle.” She swung around and sniffed at Nefari. “Money is no object.”
Nefari smirked. “I see.”
Angelique shifted her weight, then—testing the mage’s attention—strolled across the room to approach Quinn.
The mage didn’t look away from Gabrielle and Elle, but that didn’t mean he didn’t notice her.
“These gems contain the highest caliber of my signature defense spell,” the mage said. “When you are attacked, it automatically activates a shield spell.”
“Automatic activation seems awful limiting,” Elle said.
“Most prefer it, as the spell—once attached to a gem in a necklace—can be easily hidden and avoid detection. However, it can be manually activated, as well.”
Nefari held the necklace out in front of him and muttered. The jewel shimmered before an iridescent green shield snapped into place around the mage.
Angelique narrowed her eyes as she studied the shield.
I know this spell. Where have I seen it?
A moment passed before she remembered the Chosen mage she’d first encountered in Zancara. Both times he’d attacked her, he used a necklace that powered a shield spell Angelique had had a terrible time trying to get past.
This must be where he got it from…
“However,” Nefari set the necklace down. The shield spell flickered around him for a moment before it fizzled out. “If you are looking for something capable of protecting you from the likes of Angelique, your best option will be to get a custom-made piece—so the spells can be spe
cially tuned to you.”
Gabrielle stared Nefari down with nerves of steel, her golden eyes glittering with nothing but boredom as she met his gaze.
For a moment, even Angelique forgot Gabrielle wasn’t a magic user—there was so much confident power in the princess’s gaze.
Nefari shifted his weight from one foot to the other and clasped his hands behind his back. “Naturally, this means a delay. A custom piece takes several months to build. But once I finish, I will attune it to you, which will guarantee the spell’s top performance level.”
Considering a return trip was exactly what they’d been aiming for all along, Gabrielle and Elle did a magnificent job of falsifying outrage.
Gabrielle sniffed.
“Yes, indeed, Mademoiselle.” Elle bobbed in a wobbly curtsey, then turned on the slightly intimidated Nefari. “Months? I say it again, months? You wish to keep Mademoiselle Mystrim from the comforts of her home for months? When she has already said money is no object? What kind of mage do you take Mademoiselle Mystrim for?”
“Er, if I increase the price, I suppose I could delay some other orders if it is really that important—”
Gabrielle collapsed her fan and then slapped it into the palm of her hand as she glared at him.
“What did you not understand about Mademoiselle Mystrim’s feelings for your measly prices, mage?” Elle snapped, crowding at Gabrielle’s shoulder.
“My apologies.” Nefari awkwardly bowed.
I don’t think I was ever impressed enough with Elle and Gabrielle, Angelique reflected as she watched the fierce pair stare down the thoroughly cowed Chosen mage. I never thought anyone besides a powerful mage could inflict fear into a Chosen follower!
He settled his shoulders (the upsetting air of normalness that surrounded him grew with every gesture he made), then snapped his fingers.
The little girl abruptly appeared in the doorway and bowed. “Yes, Master?”
“The lady is going to place a custom order,” Nefari said. “Get the necessary forms.”
The girl bowed again, then disappeared down the hallway as silently as she appeared.