by K. M. Shea
After taking a minute or two to extinguish the thorny shrub, Angelique confirmed the couple was still kissing and giggling together. She wrinkled her brow in confusion.
It must be something in the air, she decided. I never pegged Emerys as a giggler. When I free Evariste, I hope he mercilessly teases him about this.
Angelique was self-aware enough to know she was too jaded—perhaps even a tad bitter—about love to say anything remotely teasing and not rudely sarcastic when it came to romance by now.
“Angelique!”
Angelique crouched slightly so she could peer under Pegasus’ head, spying a familiar princess sauntering her way. “Elle!”
Elle’s black hair was pulled back in a braid, and she wore a muted orange tunic that somehow made her fade into the background of the elves’ glitz—most likely by design. She laughed as she approached—pausing just long enough to bow respectfully to Pegasus before tightly hugging Angelique.
Surprised as she was, Angelique returned the embrace. “What are you doing here?”
“King Themerysaldi stopped by Chanceux with letters from Severin,” Elle said. “He told me he was coming here and offered to take me along. I accepted because I was hoping I could maybe help you prepare for the next leg of your search.”
Angelique fidgeted nervously. “That’s very generous of you…but I’m not sure what’s going to happen now that Emerys has come to take Quinn back—quite early, too.”
“Yes, I’m early. It’s terribly rude of me, but I couldn’t be parted from Quinn any longer.” Emerys and Quinn, standing arm-in-arm, stepped into the conversation, beaming like a properly twitterpated couple.
Pegasus must have picked up on some of Angelique’s mixed emotions because once the king got close, the equine pinned his ears, and a star exploded on his coat.
The Elf King actually paused, carefully watching the constellation for real aggression.
Emerys is afraid of Pegasus? That’s interesting. I didn’t know he could be afraid of anything.
Angelique stroked Pegasus’ neck and smiled at Emerys—hopefully showing the constellation that there were no hard feelings. “I take it congratulations are in order, and you successfully freed your warriors from their wandering-induced curse?” she asked.
“Indeed, they are free—but not by my doing,” Emerys said. “It took me much longer to locate the specific party of wandering warriors that was comprised of my generals than I’d care to admit. By the time I finally caught up with them, a young woman, a cobbler’s apprentice from Trieux, had already freed them.”
A young woman? Their curse couldn’t possibly be…
“Did breaking the curse involve true love?” Angelique suspiciously asked.
“It involved love of a sort—and the girl did fall in love with one of my generals,” Emerys said. “If you want to know the specifics—”
“No, no, no—no, thank you.” Angelique held up her hand and tried not to shiver in revulsion. “I am merely deeply, deeply grateful to hear that this particular curse was broken, and I didn’t have to get involved. I don’t need to know the magic theory behind it.”
Emerys grinned. “Still sick of romance, are you?”
“You have no idea,” Angelique said.
Emerys laughed—a nice, deep sound, which seemed unfair given that the Elf King already had nearly incomparable looks and skill with both the sword and magic. He should at least have been dealt a laugh similar to a donkey’s bray for the sake of balance.
“Very well. With my generals freed, it took some time to round up the rest of my warriors. They convened in what was once Trieux, and since we were so close to Prince Severin’s fight against the goblins in Erlauf, we rode east to help them for a few weeks. However, I’m afraid I couldn’t be parted from Quinn any longer,” Emerys said. “My desire to finally be wed was too great.”
“What you mean is Alastryn has driven you to the brink of madness in her passion for our wedding celebration,” Quinn said.
“Correct.” Emerys smiled at Quinn and leaned close so his forehead rested against hers. “I have so missed your brilliance.”
“Given that you are only running from Alastryn, could we remain a week or so longer here in Mullberg?” Quinn asked. “Angelique and I were about to infiltrate Juwel and hopefully confirm Evariste’s location.”
“Oh, I love infiltrating!” Elle eagerly clapped, sounding for all the world like a young lady squealing over a new dress.
Emerys, however, straightened, and his sappiness faded away. “Really? You’ve found him then?” The timbre of his voice seemed more musical than usual, and he unexpectedly reached out and grabbed Angelique’s arm, squeezing it.
Staring at his eyes—which swirled with desperate hope—something in Angelique eased.
He’s a selfish brat at times, but Emerys really does care for Evariste.
“We haven’t for certain found him,” Angelique said. “But we think he’s in Juwel—we just don’t know where in Juwel. Or why.”
Emerys’ shoulders visibly tightened, but he seemed taller and more like the imposing Elf King he was. “Then of course we’ll stay. We’ll remain here and offer every aid we can.”
Angelique’s throat tightened with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” Emerys said.
“Obviously, I’ll help, too,” Elle said. “It will be delightful to come up with new disguises for us! I’ve gone into Juwel in disguise before. Glitzern palace has quite lax security, all things considered. They more carefully observe trade than they do security in the whole city. This will be easy! Particularly with elf magic available to use.”
Angelique frowned. “I don’t know that using any magic—particularly elf magic, as it is so unique—is a good idea given the two Chosen encampments in the area. If Evariste is here, and they think Emerys has come for him, it’s guaranteed they’ll move him.”
“You are probably correct, but I’m afraid it doesn’t matter terribly much,” Emerys said. “We’re still recovering our magic. I’m only at about half my power. We can perform some magic, but I’m afraid bringing the city down to find Evariste is beyond my grasp, so stealth is the better idea.”
Quinn frowned. “Your magic is still low? It’s been months since you were freed. I would have thought your power—if not your warriors’—would have regenerated by now.”
Emerys grimaced. “I’m afraid my recovery rate—the recovery rate of all elves—is far slower outside of Alabaster Forest.”
Angelique frowned. “But Alabaster Forest isn’t the source of your magic.”
“No, but we elves have spent centuries shaping it to fit our needs and desires,” Emerys explained. “It’s designed to suit us and our magic; hence, it can help us recover at a much faster rate.”
“I see. Did you send all the warriors on to the forest, then?” Angelique asked.
“About half of them,” Emerys said. “The other half are camped in Loire, waiting for our return. But I can easily send word to them of the change in our plans.”
“Have the goblin and troll attacks subsided in Farset?” Quinn asked.
“They’ve gotten much better,” Emerys confirmed. “However, when this is over, the elves will be greatly indebted to your sister, Bridget the Red Rider. She and her horses have almost single-handedly held Alabaster Forest’s border against wraiths, trolls, and other monsters. Hopefully now that a number of the warriors have returned, their magic will rapidly replenish, and we’ll be able to reinforce our magical barriers.”
Quinn nodded, but there was a wrinkle on her forehead, and Angelique noticed Elle was being careful not to meet her gaze.
They’re making dear sacrifices to be here.
Angelique sighed and scratched her head, then peered up at the sky. “Let’s be realistic about this. You’re elves. You can’t do magic while here in Mullberg. You’re more eye-catching than an enchanter, and your home is still being attacked.”
She lowered her gaze so she could loo
k Emerys in the eyes. “I appreciate your offer of help more than you know, but the best choice would be for you to return to Alabaster Woods and get your magic back.”
Emerys shook his head. “You’ve been forced to search alone for too long, Angelique.”
“Yes. But as much as I would appreciate help—or even company—we have to be logical about this and consider the ramifications. You’re elves. Being here in Mullberg is enough to make the Chosen know we’re up to something. Staying with me is only going to make your magic recovery take longer, and I don’t think Elle could disguise you well enough to get any of you into the city to help me anyway. It really is better if you return to Alabaster Forest.”
Rather than feel depressed with this epiphany, Angelique found herself standing straighter.
Quinn rubbed her thumb on her glossy wooden bow. “But it doesn’t seem fair.”
“I don’t care about what’s fair right now,” Angelique said. “I care about finding Evariste—and making certain they don’t move him!” She tilted her head as she studied Emerys. “I fully intend to ask for help when it comes time to break him out—that is when I may need your aid, and it will be vital that you are at full capacity. Even beyond that, given what’s going on in the continent, we will all need the elves to have full command of their magic. That’s why I can handle this stealth mission alone.”
Emerys rested his hand on the guard of his sword and squeezed it. He briefly shut his eyes, then sighed deeply. He was quiet for several long moments, and when he peered at her, Angelique could see the inner war in his eyes. “Very well. I’m trusting you on this. Evariste is…”
“Yes,” Angelique said.
A somber silence settled on the party.
It was Elle who broke it by throwing an arm around Angelique’s waist. “We might not be able to stay with you, but! You’re going to go on a stealth mission, which happens to be my expertise. I will be more than happy to help you prepare.”
“Ahh, yes.” Quinn winced. “We’ll need to rethink your disguise since you’ll be going alone, now.”
“What were you planning to do?” Elle asked.
“A rich lady and her guard,” Angelique said.
Elle circled Angelique, studying her with an appraising eye as she rubbed her chin. “Not a bad choice. But since you’ll be alone, we’ll need something a little more…special. A role that will let you be overlooked, but you’ll easily settle into so it’s fully believable—which is a requirement. It’s easier to be convincing with a partner. But since you’re solo, you’ll need to so naturally fit your image, no one thinks to question it.”
Angelique stood straighter under Elle’s gaze. “What sort of role could I possibly fit that would be natural? I haven’t learned any kind of trade—I’ve only learned magic since I was a child.”
A mischievous gleam that didn’t bode well for Angelique glimmered in Elle’s eyes. “That’s your answer, then,” Elle said.
Angelique and Quinn exchanged puzzled looks.
“What?” Angelique asked.
Elle spun around on her heels and waved to the still mounted elves. “Yoo-hoo! Hello! Which of you took my pack of clothes—and do any of you have special knowledge about herbs, or is that in general a basic-elven-knowledge sort of thing?” There was a spring in her step as she bounced away, looking back over her shoulder just long enough to wink at Angelique. “Don’t worry—I have an idea!”
Emerys squinted. “Why do I have the distinct feeling that we should worry because she has an idea?”
“Self-preservation,” Angelique suggested.
“Elle is brilliant. I’m sure it will be an excellent disguise,” Quinn said.
“I need a tunic that is at least two sizes too big for Angelique!” Elle shouted.
Quinn didn’t even wince. “Probably.”
Angelique retreated so she was closer to Pegasus. “Yeah, it’s that ‘probably’ that has me worried.”
She leaned into the constellation and was surprised when a smile surfaced on her lips as she watched Elle terrorize the elves.
This is the right choice. I’m not sad. I actually feel better about this decision. Besides, soon—tomorrow!—I’ll get to start searching for Evariste’s location!
Evariste laid on his side and tried to muster the strength to do something. Anything.
The gnawing pain of the mirror forcibly dragging his magic out of his soul had become all he knew.
He moved only whenever the pain was too much to bear and his body twitched against his control.
The agony had so deeply invaded that he didn’t notice anymore when the mirror whispered mockingly to him—it was too consuming.
The only thing that occasionally pierced the haze of his pain was Queen Faina’s shrieks of rage and howls of pain. As it did now.
She’d been crying—howling in her tears—for a while. Evariste hadn’t really noticed when she started. The noise faintly trickled through the mirror on and off.
She lost, Evariste dimly thought. The mirror has her entirely in its grasp. Through her, it will kill Princess Snow White, and then the Chosen will have Mullberg.
More pain wracked his body, stealing the stale, iron-scented air from his lungs and making his torn throat ache.
Evariste wasn’t sure how many moments passed before he could function enough to have another thought. It could have been a minute or an hour.
Queen Faina was still crying. But that could mean anything.
I just want this pain to stop.
Even Evariste’s eyelids hurt as he tried to inhale in a way that only produced a dull throbbing instead of the hot, searing pain that currently knifed through his lungs.
When I was first captured, I regretted the thought that I might die. But now…it would be a relief.
The thought felt almost like a betrayal to those he knew were searching for him—surely Angelique, Clovicus, and the Veneno Conclave.
But Evariste had held out for so long. Pain had been his entire world for what felt like years. Couldn’t he stop fighting, finally?
I don’t think it will matter much longer. I can’t hold out any longer. I can’t even try to hold back my magic—I’m too weak. Soon, it will be over.
Evariste’s breathing hitched when one of his fingers twitched, sending a new deluge of pain through him.
Angelique, I’m sorry. I can’t fight it anymore.
Chapter 17
“Are you certain I can cut your hair?” Elle asked for surely the fifth time.
“Yes! How many times must I tell you before you believe me?” Angelique asked.
“But it’s your hair. And I’m purposely cutting it to make you look scruffy,” Elle said. “I mean, I’m fine making myself look like a ragamuffin, but it seems like such a shame to ruin you.” Elle ran a hand through the long, glossy locks and puffed out her cheeks.
“I can use an illusion to make it look however I want when all of this is over,” Angelique said. “But I can’t risk running an illusion when I’m in disguise as an herb wizard’s apprentice—that’s too advanced of magic for what is basically a glorified healer.”
That had been Elle’s idea: to make Angelique one of the least-skilled sort of magic users there was.
Given that herb wizards used very little magic—mostly they were skilled at collecting herbs and specializing in their various uses and had only the tiniest brush of magic that might help them create healing droughts or herb charms to make a cottage smell fresh—Angelique couldn’t afford to let her powers through.
It also gave her an excellent excuse as to why she couldn’t use her powers—and possibly give herself away with the uniqueness of her magic. As an apprentice, she wouldn’t be allowed to use much magic yet—too many possibilities to accidentally create a poison or something dangerous.
“Very well. I apologize for this.” Elle clutched the delicate silver scissors she’d procured from her bag.
“I certainly don’t mind,” Angelique said. “I’ll need ev
ery bit of help I can get to make this convincing because I don’t know a thing about herbs.”
Elle rolled her eyes. “Very well, since you are unsympathetic to this crime, I apologize directly to your hair!” She pursed her lips so tightly her mouth screwed up, and then snipped a lock of Angelique’s long hair, cutting it so it fell roughly to her shoulders in a curly wave.
Elle purposely hacked at Angelique’s hair, cutting the locks at slightly different lengths to give her an untidy appearance. She ruffled it as she went, and soon Angelique’s dark hair was disheveled, significantly muting the sharper planes of her cheekbones and nose.
Angelique glanced down at her new costume: a blue tunic that was so large on her, it fell almost to her knees.
(“It gives the appearance that you’re shorter than you really are,” Elle had claimed.)
The blue of the tunic was gray enough that it almost made Angelique’s eyes look closer to gray than silver. At the very least, the color helped muffle the unnaturalness of Angelique’s eyes—her “position” as an herb wizard’s apprentice would provide the cover for her magic, but as not many mages had silver eyes, the color needed to be downplayed as much as possible.
Three belts—all three leather, and all three battered as Elle had recruited some of the elves to smack them with their swords to age the belts—wrapped around Angelique’s waist. She fiddled with her plain cloak, twitching it so it covered more of her knees so she didn’t shiver in the cold while Elle continued hacking at her hair.
To complete her disguise, she had a pair of boots—also too large for her and with a low heel, to keep her height down as much as possible.
Elle had spent almost all morning putting the ensemble together as she dug through saddle bags after their ride to Luster Forest.
Rather than camp out in the field—for everyone to see—or travel to Hurra and practically announce to everyone within a day’s ride that there were elves in Mullberg, the party had elected to ride to Luster Forest.