by K. M. Shea
“What? It’s not like Sir Bossy is hiding a hidden penchant for ancient magic lore—even if he knows more about herb wizards than I like,” Angelique said.
Pegasus stamped a hoof with enough force it made his entire body twitch, which moved Angelique as a result.
Angelique grabbed her bag before it could slide off his back behind her—and likely wrench her neck along with it. “What? Do you want me to use the mirror and call Quinn and the others back for a consultation session? It’s not probable she’ll know anything I don’t.” Angelique blinked as she realized what she’d just said. “But…Clovicus would. And Severin was sending him a mirror.”
Angelique mashed her lips together as she pondered the matter.
I’d be waking him in the middle of the night—and I might not even be able to reach him if he is spelled up to his gills like I am to protect myself. But he’s an experienced Lord Enchanter, and he takes the Chosen seriously. He’s likely my best choice.
“It’s worth a shot.” Angelique flipped her satchel open and rooted through its cavernous innards. After blindly fumbling for a few moments, her fingers scraped the mirror’s familiar heavy, engraved handle, and she dug it out.
Angelique studied the mirror’s dark reflection—it was impossible to see anything given the forest’s darkened surroundings and the late hour—then burrowed around in her satchel for the starfire crystal she’d tossed back in it.
With the soft glow of the crystal lighting up her face—so Clovicus wouldn’t think she’d been kidnapped or something—Angelique tapped the spell that buzzed under the mirror’s surface, directing it to Clovicus.
She didn’t think it would actually reach the Lord Enchanter, so she was holding it sidewise and nearly dropped it when the spell took, and Lord Clovicus (squinty eyed and with ruffled hair) filled the mirror’s surface.
“Hello?” he croaked in a rusty voice.
“Lord Clovicus, good evening!” Angelique corrected the angle of the mirror and nearly slipped off Pegasus’ side as she struggled to fix her posture and hold the starfire so it lit up her face.
“Angelique.” Clovicus rapidly blinked and slightly shook his head. “Is something wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing is wrong—at least, not anymore,” Angelique said. “But I need your counsel on an issue of magic, and given that I am hiding my abilities from my traveling companions, I need to talk to you now while they are unaware of my absence.”
Clovicus ruffled his bright red hair, the faint silver streaks at his temples catching the glittering light of the fireplace she could see over his shoulder. “Ah. I understand. What is it that you want to know?”
Angelique recited everything she’d learned—from Faina and the likelihood she was under some kind of spell or magical compulsion, to the constructs that had attacked them, and the lack of a mage nearby.
By the time she finished rattling it all off, Clovicus had gone from only half awake to alert and pensive.
He frowned—his hair mysteriously tidied again and his expression clear. “You,” he began, “attract trouble, don’t you? No wonder Evariste suited you so well as your master. That rascal is nothing but trouble.”
Angelique pursed her lips. “Lord Enchanter Clovicus…”
It seemed, however, that he wasn’t done. “I’m not wrong, am I? No matter what part of the world you go haring off to, you manage to meet a royal—most likely one that is cursed or knows someone suffering from a curse. The chances of that happening are quite slim, and yet you’re the only magic user to encounter them! By the time you finally take your test as an enchantress, you are going to have more fieldwork experience than the majority of the Lord Enchanters and Lady Enchantresses I work with.” He brightened. “You could hold workshops! ‘How to be a productive enchantress: Step one, eviscerate the Council.’”
“Clovicus!” Angelique half-laughed—amused to hear someone besides herself see the ridiculousness in the situation, but knowing she needed his advice before returning to the likely already-worried Snow White and her handsome-and-not-cursed warriors.
“There we go—I’m glad to see you crack a smile for once.” Clovicus’ grin was roguish and unapologetic. “It really is unlucky—for you, that is—that you seem to keep finding yourself in these types of situations. But I won’t say it hasn’t been to our advantage—and an enormous boon for the continent. But these constructs. It’s impossible to know for certain just by your description. There hasn’t been a mage in the Veneno Conclave that has held a talent for such thing in a long time. It was thought to have been lost with the ways of old magic. However, black magic is capable of a great many things—most of which we don’t know.”
Angelique hunched her shoulders. “I was afraid of that.”
“I’m happy to say that all is not lost, though,” Clovicus said. “I would imagine your instinct that you are dealing with a particularly powerful black mage who is doing this all from a distance is the correct assumption.”
“You don’t think it could be a less powerful mage is using an artifact charged with Evariste’s magic?”
“No,” Clovicus said. “It’s the actions of the constructs themselves that makes me suspect you’re dealing with a being of great power. Most constructs aren’t reactive like the ones you described. They wouldn’t have fled from the light because constructs are mindless. They would have marched to their doom. It would take a mage of great skill and experience—at least equal to myself, if not greater—to create such a spell.”
“Huh. I’m not sure what to think about that,” Angelique said.
“Me, either,” Clovicus admitted. “Except to say obviously you are correct: this dark mage is targeting Snow White, though I don’t know why they waited until she was gone to make their move.”
“Perhaps it has something to do with Faina and ruling?” Angelique suggested.
“It could be.” Clovicus rubbed his forehead. “I’ll see about sending you some back up, but I’m afraid it may take a while.”
“The fight against goblins in Erlauf is going that poorly, is it?” Angelique asked.
“Yes. Though Sole is sending a troop of Magic Knights—which are expected to be a huge help in the fight. With them there, Severin ought to be able to spare you some help. Unless you wish to call back the elf king and his bride?”
Angelique shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t be odd for an extra mage or two to wander around Mullberg, but the newly freed King Themerysaldi? There’d be no hiding that. And it would turn the Veneno Conclave upside down; they’d be trying to send emissaries to talk to him all the time.”
“You’re not wrong,” Clovicus said. “But I thought we could offer it—you deserve the best back-up after all you have done.”
Angelique grinned. “I can face a few constructs if it means finding out more about Evariste. Those things had nothing on a wyvern or basilisk.”
Pegasus snorted, and Angelique looked up from the mirror and could see the shimmering white light shed by the starfires through the trees. “I need to go, but I have one last question—and a favor to ask.”
“Name it,” Clovicus said.
“Would you tell Prince Severin of all I’ve told you? He needs to know that Mullberg is experiencing more trouble than Quinn and I estimated if their queen is being spelled.”
“Consider it done. And your question?”
“Do you think it’s likely that the black mage doing this is siphoning Evariste’s magic from him, and that he’s nearby?” Angelique asked.
Clovicus’ good humor fell away, and he rubbed his eyes with a weariness Angelique felt. “It’s difficult to say. You said yourself you still don’t know for certain if he is in Juwel. Without any evidence, we could suppose all we want. But whether he’s being used or not, I don’t know that it will make a difference in what you need to do.”
Angelique sighed. “You’re right. I’m just being impatient.”
“Understandably so,” Clovicus said, his voice soothing. “
You want him back—we all want him back.”
“Yes. But I can’t let my hope make me act rashly.” Angelique leaned forward, resting on Pegasus’ shoulders so his withers uncomfortably poked her stomach. She got some of his flaming mane in her face, which made her sputter and push it out of the way with a glare.
“Gaping gawpfish—you’re riding Pegasus right now, aren’t you?” Clovicus asked.
Angelique blinked, surprised by his surprise. “Yes?”
“I take it all back. You’re worse than Evariste! At least he had the self-respect to own up to his trouble! But you go ahead and charm a constellation so it carries you around like a cart pony, and you don’t even question it! You naïve enchantress!”
Angelique sat up. “But Pegasus doesn’t mind.”
“That’s what makes it even more concerning!” Clovicus shouted through the mirror. “You’re going to give me indigestion. I vow it! Between you and those horrible students I am plagued with, I am going to die young. I lost years teaching Evariste and now I have to deal with your unmatched powers of obliviousness!”
“How can I give you indigestion when you’ve not been eating, but sleeping?” Angelique said.
“Ugh. It’s too late for me to deal with your impudence. Goodnight, Angelique.”
Angelique grinned archly. “Goodnight, Clovicus. Pegasus says goodnight, too.”
“You!” Clovicus made some more sputtered sounds of irritation, then cut off the connection to the mirror.
Angelique cackled as she opened her satchel and dropped the mirror inside, then slipped from Pegasus’ back. “Thank you for the help, my friend. I am thankful that you never fail to answer my call.” She circled around to his head and scratched his forehead for him.
Pegasus delicately took the collar of her cloak in his teeth and chewed it for a moment.
Angelique ran her hand down his neck and smiled. “I expect I won’t be able to call you for a while, sadly.”
Pegasus spat out her cloak collar and tossed his head.
“I’ll steal outside to talk to the sky when I can,” Angelique said.
Truthfully, I don’t know if he can hear me when I talk to him like that, but he hears me whenever I call his name, so maybe?
Angelique studied the magical equine, looking for some indication that her promise made a difference.
Pegasus did nothing—he didn’t even move a muscle—but a galaxy swirled on his coat.
Hmm. It’s not a denial!
Angelique leaned into his neck. “I’ll miss you, but enjoy your time at home. And thank you…for everything.”
Pegasus snorted his hot breath into her ear, and her nose twitched at the faint, almost sulfur scent he exhaled.
Before she could rethink the impulse, Angelique kissed Pegasus on his soft, velveteen muzzle, then hurried through the trees and popped into the cleared area around the warriors’ cottage.
When she peered back over her shoulder, she could see the faint blue light of Pegasus’ mane and tail through the trees. She waved, then headed back to the cottage.
Clovicus is right—it is unbelievable how often I run into troubled royalty. But this time is so much better because I’m not lonely. I have friends I can count on.
Angelique hitched the strap of her satchel farther up her shoulder as she watched the Seven Warriors bustle around their horses, preparing for the day’s journey.
The day after the constructs’ attack had been filled with enough meetings and discussion that Angelique suspected even Prince Severin would have found it bothersome.
In the end, Snow White had been able to convince the Seven Warriors that—obviously—there was some kind of dark magic controlling Faina. In return, the warriors had pointed out that when Faina sent Snow White off to her grandfather, that obviously had not been part of the black mage’s—or whoever was controlling her—plan.
They’d sent Oswald and Wendal to Glitzern palace to spy on the area and see if anything had changed, while Angelique did her best to innocently suggest—she had to appear to be a humble herb wizard’s apprentice, after all, and not an enchantress-in-training who would be in the know—that perhaps the Chosen were behind the spell on Faina.
It was then that Angelique discovered Snow White had not known the Summit had taken place until recently—she hadn’t even been informed of the invitation when Severin had sent it nearly one year prior.
Which makes one wonder…does Mullberg merely appear to be the country least bothered by the Chosen—Zancara withstanding—or have the Chosen been attempting to get control of Faina for years?
Angelique pressed her lips into a thin line and narrowed her eyes in thought.
“Angel? Is something wrong?”
Angelique slapped on a happier expression. “What could possibly—wow.” Angelique cut herself off and blinked at Snow White in her disguise that was both deviously smart but potentially illness-inducing if her stepmother or grandfather ever saw her in it.
Snow White wore a brown, smock-like dress that bulged very convincingly at the belly, giving her the distinct shape of a pregnant woman.
Snow White rested her arms on top of her belly. “Do you think it’s convincing? It’s only a pillow, but I tried to shape it correctly.”
“You did quite well,” Angelique assured her. “With this, our group disguise will be flawless.”
Despite her words, privately, Angelique wasn’t as certain. They were supposed to be traveling with the Seven Warriors disguised as jewel miners—Snow White taking the role of a pregnant woman, which also explained Angelique’s presence as an herb wizard’s apprentice.
But while Snow White’s belly was convincing, Snow White’s bearings were a tad too regal for her to be a convincing peasant, and the Seven Warriors prowled around with too much trained grace to be nondescript jewel miners.
But I can hardly point fingers as I have found my disguise as an herb wizard’s apprentice is barely functional. It’s astounding Snow White—as sharp as she is—hasn’t ousted me already.
Angelique squinted as she watched the warriors.
Oswald and Rupert were—predictably—arguing as they saddled their horses. Fritz, however, was securing the halter of a tame gelding and tethering him to an already saddled horse.
“Who are you pretending to be married to?” Angelique asked.
Snow White blushed a very fetching pink. “F-Fritz.”
The blush almost pulled a blank stare out of Angelique. It was too close to a reaction someone—dare Angelique think it—in love would give.
But Snow White is shy. It’s probably embarrassment. Though she and Fritz have looked quite cozy together on numerous occasions. Hmmm.
Snow White peered up at Angelique and clutched her pillow-belly, waiting for a response.
“I’m sure he’ll be a wonderful father,” Angelique offered.
Snow White’s cheeks turned from a light pink to a shade that bordered on red.
She is recklessly intelligent, but charmingly adorable when it comes to relationships.
Snow White delicately coughed. “The important thing is that our disguise holds long enough for us to reach the meeting place with the local lords.”
That’s what they were preparing for: a meeting with some of the local gentry, where Snow White—speaking through Marzell—would ask for troops so they could launch a surprise attack on Glitzern Palace in Juwel.
In general, Angelique was uninterested in any sort of politicking, and she certainly had no plans to involve herself in this political campaign.
But the plan was hatched by Snow White and the warriors after Oswald and Wendal spied on Faina and discovered that all traces of the Queen’s personality had left. She was now enraged at all times and spent most of her time in her quarters, refusing to see anyone.
The mage that has her in their power must have some connection to her room. Either they can reach it easily, or they’ve left some kind of vile magic object there to reinforce their control over her.
> Angelique glanced down at Snow White and carefully studied the princess, who smiled brightly in return.
“Are you certain about this?” Angelique jutted her chin at the disguised warriors. “You’re taking a risk in riding out like this. Wendal and Oswald were very clear that the Queen—or more correctly, whoever is controlling her—is obsessed with you. Out of everyone involved in this quest, you are the one in the most danger: you’re the one the constructs were targeting.”
Snow White stopped fidgeting with her pillow belly and stood up straight. “Maybe, but it’s a risk I’ll take to save my stepmother.”
“And you still insist on using Marzell to speak to these lords?” Angelique asked.
The question flirted with bureaucratic issues Angelique intended to stay out of—she was here solely to find out about whatever magic controlled Faina and to stop it, after all. But she liked Snow White well enough to ask the question anyway.
“I’ve already told you—I’m not an inspiring leader,” Snow White said. “We need to convince these local lords so we can strike Glitzern while Faina is unaware. And if I were to ask my grandfather for aid, I don’t believe that he would follow my goal to save Faina and contain her until the arrival of a mage strong enough to break whatever hold black magic has on her.”
“You think your grandfather would have her killed because she attacked you and is a threat to you,” Angelique said.
“I know he would—he would wish to respect Faina’s wishes to keep me safe at all cost,” Snow White said.
“Yes, I understand all of that. But I can’t help but think that having Marzell speak on your behalf is going to hinder you in the future,” Angelique said. “You’re the princess. The power rests with you—not him.”
“I must respectfully disagree with you. Faina’s wellbeing is most important—not my power as a princess.” Snow White’s dark eyebrows lowered, giving her a stubborn look to match the storm in her blue eyes.
“If you think it’s best,” Angelique reluctantly said.
“I do.” Snow White coughed delicately and looked away. “I ought to go over with Marzell which of the local lords we are speaking with today. Please excuse me, Angel.”