by K. M. Shea
Evariste released a bark of laughter and shook his head as the insides of the mirror turned a dark, dangerous red that pulsed with power.
The mirror’s dark, endlessly hungry magic turned on Evariste, yanking at his magic.
Pain wracked his body for a single moment before it was cut back by an achingly cold and familiar magic.
Angelique?
Evariste snapped his head up and looked around the mirror, but her spell was gone. There was nothing outside the mirror’s surface.
What, then…?
He felt her magic again. This time, it leaned against the barrier that blocked off his magic, testing it with a sharpness that took his breath away.
What’s happening? I know spells, and that was absolutely a tracking spell. How is her magic still here, and what is it doing?
Angelique’s magic was unable to breech the wall of the curse placed upon him. But when the mirror reached for him, the little magic that had snuck inside flashed like a sword, cutting off part of the mirror’s pull.
“You still resist, enchanter?” the mirror seethed, seemingly unaware of Angelique’s magic. “Very well.”
The mirror pumped its warped magic through him, knifing him in the gut.
By reflex, Evariste reached for his magic and rammed into the wall that separated him from it…and then felt Angelique’s cold powers spark at his fingertips.
What—I shouldn’t be able to use another mage’s magic. How is this possible?
He couldn’t use it per se. When he reached for it, he couldn’t mold it to his will as he could—or rather used to—with his own magic. But it was still there, holding its ground.
But Angelique had dismantled the spell. He had sensed that. Why on earth was even this small—but deadly—flicker of her magic hanging around?
The mirror didn’t seem to notice, not even as Angelique’s magic continued to hold back a part of Evariste’s powers, giving up far less magic and causing a great deal less pain even as it ripped on his soul.
What does this mean?
Evariste stayed flat on the ground, half afraid to catch the mirror’s attention lest it realize what was going on.
But for the first time since he’d entered the mirror—no, the first time since Liliane had cursed him—Evariste felt a flicker of power.
I’m not going to give up. But how, then, can I best capitalize on this unexpected twist?
Chapter 23
Two nights later, Angelique stared at the enchanted paper Rumpelstiltskin had given her, going over the message she had written.
It described what she’d felt when her tracking spell had connected with the mage that held Evariste hostage, as well as the confirmation that Evariste was indeed in Juwel—in Glitzern Palace, specifically.
It’s shocking to know where Evariste is. I almost feel as though the world has suddenly flipped, and what’s up is down and what’s down is up. But in reality, much hasn’t changed. Quinn and I had long suspected he was in Juwel, and after learning about Queen Faina, I was almost positive whatever mage was attacking her had Evariste in their thrall as well.
But to know, without a doubt!
Angelique gripped her borrowed feather quill with enough force to smash the tip of the writing instrument. She had to consciously relax her grip and glance around the cottage to see if anyone had witnessed it.
The trip to meet with the Mullberg lords had been successful, and despite a close call with some soldiers, Angelique, Snow White, and the Seven Warriors hadn’t been found out.
After a day filled with weapon practice—that was the Seven Warriors—and endless exchanges of correspondences—Snow White sending out letters to the lords and the like—the group had settled down for a surprisingly quiet evening.
Fritz and Snow White sat side-by-side on a bench. Fritz sharpened some of Wendal’s throwing daggers as he and the princess sat in comfortable silence. Gregori—the giant-like warrior—was sleeping in a chair nearby, while Lord Aldelbert and Wendal were reenacting some adventures the two had gone on in Aldelbert’s youth.
Given that the young lord had to barely be twenty, Angelique didn’t know what exactly counted as his “youth,” but despite his boastful personality, he’d had more than a few amusing stories—including one that involved three goblins and a particularly persnickety goat that took offense to the goblins’ loincloths.
Oswald and Rupert were seated at the table. Considering how much they argued and insulted each other, it seemed the duo was rarely apart. At the moment, they were playing “Gluckshaus” with Marzell. They insisted it was a traditional Mullberg game, but with the random shouts of “You rolled a two, lucky pig!” and “It’s the wedding, pay up!”, Angelique was not convinced they hadn’t come up with the odd game themselves.
Angelique smoothed the edges of her stationary—which was spelled so once she folded it and sealed it, the paper would self-deliver—in this case to Stil.
Stil hadn’t enchanted the paper. One of his colleagues who was particularly talented at enchanting paper products and was conveniently staying at Chanceux Chateau had, instead.
I don’t think I need to add anything else—oh, except that he should pass this information on to Lord Enchanter Clovicus since I don’t know when I’ll be able to slip off and use my mirror again.
Angelique stuck her tongue out of her mouth as she added the instruction at the bottom of the page.
Rupert glanced in her direction. “How goes your notation on Mullberg herbs, Angel?”
Angelique slapped on a smile. Rupert had become all too interested in her supposed herb magic ever since she’d healed him after the construct attack, and his wound had disappeared much faster thanks to her “herbs.”
“Wonderful,” Angelique said. “I hope my master will be pleased with my observations when I find him again.”
Rupert nodded, then took the dice Oswald set in front of him and rolled. “Twelve—that’s a king.” He swept all the coins off the board they played on and added them to his personal pile as Oswald groaned.
“You’re cheating,” Oswald said.
“How could I? We’re using the same dice,” Rupert pointed out.
Angelique glanced down at her letter again. Finding nothing more to add, she began to fold it.
Despite how huge it feels to know Evariste is in Glitzern, I haven’t discovered much that we didn’t already suspect.
Angelique couldn’t even conclude that the mage needed Evariste to fully impact Queen Faina. According to Snow White, the Queen had already started having outbursts before Evariste arrived based on the Chosen logbooks that vaguely noted his progress through the country.
Instead, all this knowledge does is make me that much more eager to march on the city—but I can’t very well be a one-woman army, particularly when I’m facing a black mage secreted in a city full of innocents.
Angelique’s fingers shook with impatience as she kept folding the letter.
She hoped she’d be able to contact Stil by mirror before the message finally arrived, but the missive was her back-up plan in case all of the boring politicking grew larger, and she couldn’t send a message out.
Her heart throbbed so strongly, it ached in her chest. She was close to saving Evariste. Finally, she might be able to free him after roughly six years!
Steady. I need to be steady. I can’t lose Evariste from impatience. Contacting Stil is the first step.
Angelique stared at the kite-like shape she’d folded the paper into. All it needed was one last fold down the center, and then she could set it loose outside. Hopefully she’d have a chance to send it off tonight, once Snow White and the Warriors retired.
Though that Fritz sleeps like a cat.
Angelique glanced at the quietest of the warriors. He and Snow White were exchanging shy smiles. They’d been downright lovey-dovey since Snow White had posed as Fritz’ pregnant wife on the ride to see the lords.
Ahhh, yes. Another love connection has formed. Disgusting.
<
br /> Angelique didn’t even attempt to hold back her shudder of revulsion.
I respect the two of them a lot. But really, now happens to be a convenient time to fall in love? After such a short amount of time?
She shook her head and felt that she better understood the elderly grannies in her childhood village who were constantly clucking and shaking their fingers at younger generations.
Angelique had started to flip her letter over in her hands, then paused.
Those grannies would all be gone by now. Wouldn’t the children I grew up with be grandparents by now? No, not yet, but soon…
Angelique scowled at the letter and felt grouchy.
She wanted to go to Evariste, but she couldn’t.
She wanted to blast whatever mage had him until they were addled, but she couldn’t.
She couldn’t do anything she wanted!
Before Angelique could even attempt to reign in her raging emotions, Snow White sat down next to where she was sprawled out on the warm floor in front of the crackling fireplace.
“How are you feeling this evening?”
Angelique blinked in utter confusion. “Fine? Why do you ask?”
“Right before we left yesterday morning, you seemed…shaken,” Snow White said. “It wasn’t until we started riding that you seemed back to your usual self.”
“Oh.” Angelique nervously tapped her letter against her fingers as she invented a reason for her reaction. “I apologize. It was simply because I was unable to commune with herbs as I wished because many of them were still dormant from the cold.”
I can’t very well tell her what I found out about Evariste—even if it would better explain why I was so stunned.
“It didn’t have anything to do with your missing master?” Snow White asked.
It was only because Angelique had a great deal of practice schooling her face as part of her “ethereal enchantress” act she used to wear that she didn’t bulge her eyes in shock at Snow White’s very accurate guess. “Hmm?” she asked, desperately hoping she sounded casual.
“Because you’ve been helping me with my attempt to save Faina, you haven’t been able to search for your master,” Snow White said. “I can’t exactly imagine how it feels, but given my experience with Faina, I know it must be a misery.”
Angelique stared at Snow White, her nervousness melting away under the sweetness of the princess’s personality as she recognized just how much she cared.
“I know it doesn’t mean much right now, but I vow to you that once this is over, I will do everything in my power to help you find your master,” Snow White blithely continued, unaware of Angelique’s scrutiny.
“That’s a dangerous offer,” Angelique said.
Snow White tipped her head. “I don’t think it is. You aren’t going to take advantage of my power as a princess. I imagine I’m going to have to do my best to force my help upon you. Ah—yes. I wanted to ask you your master’s name. We could inquire with the lords who are lending us troops if they’ve heard of him. Gregori could also get the word out to his contacts now so at least we could perhaps get a small start on your search.” She smiled at Angelique as she pushed a lock of her inky black hair out of her pale face.
Snow White…she…
Despite Angelique’s jaded thoughts about the princess’s budding romance, Snow White was being forced to face some of her worst fears in her campaign to save her stepmother. She’d lived a royal life, and now she was staying in a cottage, helping with chores, and forcing herself to speak and bargain with veritable strangers.
And yet she still concerned herself with Angelique’s situation.
“You’re amazing, you know?” Angelique abruptly volunteered. “Mullberg is incredibly lucky to have a princess like you—one that truly cares about her people and remembers their grievances.”
Snow White smiled a little. “I’m not nearly as good as you think. You are helping me, after all. Isn’t it prudent that I ask after my own allies?”
“Except I’m just an herb wizard’s apprentice.”
“Why would that matter?”
Angelique laughed and slung an arm over Snow White’s shoulders—just as she would have to Quinn, Elle, or Gabrielle. “The fact that you even have to ask that is just another example of why Mullberg is going to be better off having you as a queen. Your intelligence will surely make this place flourish, but it’s your kindness that your citizens will treasure.”
Snow White set her lips in a half frown that said she didn’t quite believe her. “It is a nice thing for you to say. But I’m still concerned for you—and for the matter of finding your master. It can’t be easy.”
“It’s not.” Angelique tucked her letter into her sleeves. “But I’m done crying about it. I’ve decided I’m going to free him—no matter what.”
Angelique grimly stared at the fire, her vow echoing in her heart.
When we march on Juwel and breech Glitzern Palace with the Mullberg lords and their forces, I’ll be ready. I’m going to find him—no matter how much of my power I have to use.
“You still haven’t given me your master’s name,” Snow White said, breaking Angelique’s gray mood.
“Later,” Angelique said, intending to do no such thing—at least, not until she finally told Snow White who she was. “For now, we should think of happier things. Maybe we should join your warriors playing Glockshaus.”
Previously, I never really planned to tell her until it was inevitable—hopefully well after I was gone. But now…she’s my friend. I want her to know.
Snow White stood and brushed her skirts off. “It’s also called House of Fortune.”
Angelique rolled to her feet. “You mean it’s a real game?”
“Of course. Glockshaus was created here in Mullberg. I can teach you the rules, if you like?”
“Please do. I’m not certain Oswald or Rupert would correctly teach me because they are competitive and petty.”
“I heard that, herb wizard!”
“You were meant to!”
Five days after Angelique successfully tracked Evariste’s position, the compulsive impatience of her discovery was starting to settle down.
She’d performed the spell several times since sending her letter to Stil, but each time, when she felt the unforgiving cold of whatever force held Evariste captive, she cut off the spell rather than risk detection.
I think I can at least be certain they haven’t moved him.
“Thank you, Angel.” Snow White smiled as she descended the rickety cottage stairs, dressed in a blue, velvet gown Angelique had dug out of her magical satchel to lend to the princess. It was of Mullberg style with a yellow kirtle and yellow ribbing at the shoulders and elbows.
It had been a little awkward to make the offer, but given that Snow White had worn the same dress every day since Angelique met her, she wasn’t too surprised when the princess accepted the gown.
Snow White grasped the warm material of her skirt and lifted it slightly. “I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
It’s a lucky thing I had to buy that dress for one of our breaking-and-entering escapades. It came in handy when establishing our cover as rich ladies with coin to spare so the Chosen guards weren’t suspicious when we bought them nearly endless drinks.
Angelique winked. “Of course! I’m happy to help since we’re friends now!”
A slight arch to Snow White’s eyebrows gave her a wry look. “Is that why you didn’t offer this the night we broke in here and instead suggested I wear the warrior’s clothes?”
“Oh, that!” Angelique grinned unrepentantly. “That was for the fun of it. You had these great big moon eyes that seemed to get bigger with everything I suggested. I was wondering how much I could make them bulge. Besides, I trust you more, now.”
Snow White, generous soul that she was, didn’t comment on Angelique’s conduct. “I see.” She approached a window and push open a shutter she’d closed before changing. “Shall we go outside to join
them?”
“Certainly!” Angelique flapped her plain cloak—she was still wearing her oversized blue tunic for the sake of her disguise—and motioned for Snow White to lead.
Snow White paled a little as she cautiously opened the door, which creaked on its new hinges. The weather had warmed and the snow had melted, leaving the ground soft and the air just a touch warmer.
Snow White paused, then took a hesitant step outside.
Angelique smirked at her back.
She’s worried what Fritz will think—how cute. And not at all something I wish to see.
Angelique shook her head and strode over to the Seven Warriors’ food supply—or, what it really was: Fritz’s well-organized food supply—and started rummaging around, looking for something to snack on while she waited for the lovelorn princess and her beau to get their sappy looks over with.
It took a few crates and a barrel before she found something edible that wouldn’t require being stewed within an inch of its life—a radish.
Angelique brushed it off and tipped her head. Confirming enough time had passed for the worst of the love-addled moments to be over, she strolled outside, biting into her snack as she scratched her side with a casualness she took a nearly unholy delight in.
Snow White was playing with a new blue ribbon she’d already woven in her hair. Two guesses who gave her that!
Rupert and Oswald were wrestling—such a surprise. Fritz was fletching arrows while Marzell—carrying an armload of letters—walked past the sleeping Gregori with exaggerated care on his way to stand with Aldelbert and Wendal, who were inspecting painted portraits of the bright-haired and simple-minded lord.
Angelique felt gratified for her less-than-stately entrance when Wendal frowned at her, his lips puckering up.
“Do you have even an ounce of elegance in you?” he asked.
Angelique smirked and waggled her radish at him. “Does it look like I do?”