by K. M. Shea
Angelique pressed her lips together and stared at the gray spell. “But it will take me a little while.”
“Please, do whatever you can. Aldelbert, Wendal, take Snow White inside,” Marzell said.
Aldelbert eased his arms under Snow White and carefully lifted her up, almost stepping on an apple piece left on the lawn.
The princess hung limply in his arms, resembling a lifeless doll.
“Rupert, Oswald, search the area,” Marzell said.
The normally ornery duo dashed into the forest, heading in opposition directions.
“Faina is gone.” Angelique leaned against the cottage for support as she felt a weariness settle all the way to her soul. “She used magic to leave.”
“Perhaps, but we’re taking no chances. Not after we’ve already—” Marzell abruptly cut off and took a deep breath before he pivoted, facing away from Angelique. “Gregori, can you stand guard outside the cottage—and prep a horse so we can send for help?”
Gregori nodded, then jogged off to the stables.
Angelique squared her shoulders and started to step into the dimly lit cottage, but paused in the door. “Fritz?”
Marzell’s furrowed brow was craggy with worry. “He’s still at least a day or two away.”
Angelique unsteadily sucked in a breath of air and stepped into the cottage. I’m going to rip this spell apart. I have to!
Angelique scrunched her brow, her eyebrows sinking so low it became harder to see. No matter what angle she looked at it from, she couldn’t make sense of the spell cast on Snow White.
She’d meticulously gone over the symbols used in the spell and the way the strands of it were arranged. With the exception of one or two symbols, the entire thing flummoxed her.
It’s brutish. While it’s twisted with the tang of dark magic, it is also fundamentally cast and created in a different way than the spellwork I was taught.
Shaping her core magic and twisting it into a usable spell was delicate work with lots of specifics to it. The spell cast on Snow White was almost primitive in comparison. It had fewer lines of spell work and used a much smaller variety of symbols, but Angelique didn’t recognize them at all!
Two of the symbols looked familiar. Arranged in that particular pattern, they were used to put the target of the spell into a deep sleep. (Angelique was particularly familiar with them given all the meddling she had done in the curse that made the Princess of Sole fall into a deep sleep.)
It wasn’t a perfect match to those symbols, but Angelique felt confident enough in it given Snow White’s condition.
Sleeping didn’t sound so bad. But unfortunately, due to the shortness of the spell and the way the strands of it crisscrossed—or didn’t—Angelique was confident the spell didn’t include anything that would support Snow White’s body during the sleep. In fact, based on the dark symbols liberally swirled in among the gray, it seemed the spell was set to deteriorate Snow White’s health as time passed.
This isn’t just black magic. It’s got some of that in there, but more than pure black magic, it just seems extremely powerful and ancient.
Angelique tried pinching a few strands of the spell, desperately looking for a spot that wouldn’t be dangerous to cut through. But the deterioration part of the spell likely meant it would instantly kill Snow White if Angelique altered it at the wrong place.
“Magic take it!” Angel snapped.
Marzell paused his nervous pacing. “What is it?”
Angelique planted her palms on the table—which was covered in a few blankets and had been converted into a makeshift bed for Snow White—and peered over the princess, trying in vain to scrutinize the spell once more. “This is the one time—the one time—I want it to be a curse so I can patch in a stupid ‘true love’s first kiss’ fix. But it’s not a ruddy curse!”
“I don’t understand,” Marzell said. “Can’t you tell what is doing this to her?”
“I can, of a sort. But it’s not good news. It’s a spell that has placed her in a deep sleep.” Angelique shoved her purposely-poorly-cut hair out of her face.
“And that is worse than a curse?” Some of the tightness in Marzell’s shoulders eased a little—because he didn’t yet understand how dire the situation really was.
Why did I leave her in the cottage? I should have helped her with those stupid mushrooms!
“With the right opposing force—like love and sacrifice—curses can be broken,” Angelique dully explained. “It usually takes great force to undo it because they are stronger and deadlier.”
“Isn’t that good news, then?” Wendal asked. He was crouched in front of the fire he’d been tending to, worriedly fidgeting with his daggers. “Doesn’t that imply whatever did this to her is less powerful?”
“If we’re looking at sheer strength, yes,” Angelique said. “The problem is I don’t know how this spell was placed on her. Did Faina throw it on her? Did she do something to Snow White? I can’t tell.”
“What does that matter?” Marzell asked. “Aren’t spells easier to break?”
“They are, except this one is strange.” Angelique scrubbed her face with her hands.
How can I make them understand how impossible this is—there shouldn’t be a mage alive that knows how to use something like this. Not even black magic is cast like this.
“It’s like nothing I’ve seen,” Angelique started. “Not because it’s particularly terrible; it’s just weird. The spell strands aren’t like any kind of casting I’ve ever seen. It seems antiquated and outdated. But that’s where the problem lies—I can’t pick it apart since I don’t understand the casting. If I knew how it started, I would be able to unravel it, but since we don’t even know that, it looks like gibberish.”
“Would a mage be able to work it out?” Wendal asked.
Angelique miserably shook her head—she’d already thought of it.
Lord Enchanter Clovicus might be able to, but based on what Severin said, he’s at Chanceux now, which is farther away than Snow White will survive, I think, even if I contact him with the mirror.
“No. It will take a Lord Enchanter or Lady Enchantress—and they’ll have to be excessively well read or incredibly experienced,” Angelique miserably said. “In fact, only the Enchanters and Enchantresses on the Council might be able to do something about it.”
Why, oh, why is it that when the life of my friend is on the line, it’s only the hateful Council that can help her? Even if they didn’t say no to helping Snow White out of sheer spite to me, they might refuse to help because she’s a princess, and they’ll insist they can’t meddle with politics!
“If she is merely sleeping, we can take her to the Conclave,” Marzell began.
Angelique held up her hand—she had to cut down that hope before it took root. “I’m afraid not. Though I can’t read the spellwork, I can guess at the effects of it. She’s going to get worse, and the more we move her, the faster she’ll dwindle. If you carry her to the Conclave, she’ll die en route.”
Marzell cursed under his breath and resumed pacing.
Aldelbert strolled up to the table, watching Snow White with a thoughtful expression. “You said the spell seemed antiquated, Angel. What does that mean?” he asked, his tone unusually quiet.
Angelique rubbed her hands together, trying to warm them up—though it wasn’t the temperatures that had them ice cold. How could I explain this to the warriors so they’ll understand?
“It’s rather like weapons,” Angelique finally tried. “The techniques and methods used now are far more advanced compared to what was available centuries ago, wouldn’t you agree?”
Aldelbert nodded. “Of course.”
“The same goes for magic. It has changed over the centuries as magic users have grown better at using and controlling it. Our spells are now far more precise and work with a great deal more finesse. Enchanters and Enchantresses are able to bend their magic to their will to cast spells that would normally be outside the range of
their powers. It’s why all Lord Enchanters and Lady Enchantresses are skilled in things like illusions, rudimentary weather spells, curse breaking, and so on. Our spellwork is far more complex to account for those improvements.”
Angelique hesitated.
I’m giving away far more than any herb wizard should be able to tell, but this is for Snow White.
“The spell that has cut down the princess is something rudimentary but extremely brutal. It bears none of the complexity of modern magic, but it has something darker at its roots.”
“How could a rogue mage have that kind of knowledge?” Marzell asked. “Do the Chosen have those kinds of resources at their disposal?”
“Are we perhaps dealing with someone more powerful?” Wendal didn’t look up from his daggers as he fanned them between his fingers. “A rogue enchanter or enchantress, perhaps?”
Could whoever I’m facing off be a rogue enchanter? No—that’s impossible. It would be an enormous scandal if even an apprentice enchanter or enchantress went rogue. I’ve never heard of such a thing in the entire history of the Conclave! But it is possible a black mage could study the old ways. Rothbart was a sorcerer, and he was powerful enough to create a wyvern.
“There is no such thing,” Angelique said. “As for Marzell’s question, I’m afraid you are right: they do have those kinds of resources. It seems they kept meticulous records—more so than the library of the Conclave. Compared to them, we are nearly ignorant in the old ways of magic.”
Marzell stopped pacing again. “Is there nothing more you can do for her?”
“I’ll keep looking, but the best course of action is to try and reach the Veneno Conclave and ask directly for the Council’s help.” Angelique glanced back at Snow White.
I’m not giving up. But it’s hard to tell if I should be the one to contact the Veneno Conclave and risk the Council’s wrath for the slim chance they’ll move, or if I should remain here and keep trying to crack whatever this is.
Angelique licked her lips. “I could go—I have a method of reaching the Conclave far faster than a regular horse and rider.”
Marzell shook his head. “No—we need you on hand to support Snow White with magic if necessary. We have no one else that can fill that position.”
A part of Angelique eased with Marzell’s decision. I don’t know that the Conclave will help anyway. Maybe at least this way, I can contact Clovicus over my mirror and ask for his advice.
“I understand.” Angelique met Marzell’s gaze, nodded, then returned her attention to Snow White.
I’m certain this spell was not built using Evariste’s powers. Angelique studied the terrible spell again. His magic couldn’t be folded in this way. But I’m not sure if that is a good thing or not.
Angelique was vaguely aware that Marzell, Aldelbert, and Wendal crowded around the cottage fireplace, speaking with voices lowered.
She didn’t pay much attention until she heard Marzell say, “We have to send word to Lord Vitkovci and the others and tell them what has occurred.”
Lord Vitkovci…he was one of the four lords Marzell—representing Snow White—convinced to lend troops to march on Glitzern and save Faina. I don’t imagine he’s going to be quite so merciful to Faina given this new twist.
“We will send a missive to Lord Trubsinn, as well,” Marzell added, naming Snow White’s maternal grandfather.
“Objection.” Aldelbert held his hand up like a boy in a schoolroom. “Snow White specifically wished not to tell her grandfather so as to safeguard Faina’s life.”
“I’m aware of this, but the situation has changed, Aldelbert,” Marzell said. “Snow White lies on a table—possibly dying—because of Faina. We cannot let the princess die because of her affection for her stepmother.”
The trio argued further, but Angelique could see that Aldelbert and Wendal were weakening against their leader.
It’s as I thought. Because Snow White was content to have Marzell give the orders, everything will collapse because no one has the passion to save Faina as Snow White does.
Angelique rubbed her forehead. And Evariste is mixed up in there as well. What do I do if the Mullberg lords march on Faina—not for an undercover operation like Snow White planned, but for war?
Angelique’s gaze strayed to Snow White. Besides the pallor of her skin, she looked almost peaceful.
Snow White, you need to wake up. I need to rip this spell apart to wake you!
The mirror was positively giddy. Or at least as giddy as an evil, twisted, magical artifact could be.
Its magic pulsed through Evariste, and he could feel it stretching its powers through the castle, building constructs with abandon.
Whatever it sent Faina to do, it wasn’t good.
Evariste risked sitting up and peering out of the mirror’s surface.
Faina stood just outside it—sallow faced, emotionless, and swaying slightly as she stood like a puppet held up by strings.
Evariste briefly shut his eyes and tried to feel for the mirror.
Though it stretched all around him, he could feel its attention on the army of constructs it was building in the palace.
It must have done something to Snow White. It made Faina travel earlier today. She must have gone fairly far away, given that it used some of my core magic to make a gate for her, but I couldn’t see where she went since it constructed the gate out of my eyesight. I imagine it had to—or my magic wouldn’t have worked, given my limit.
Evariste rolled to his feet. Although there was a perpetual ache in his chest (and when the mirror was being particularly brutal, it could still make him collapse and choke, unable to breathe), he could move much easier thanks to the snatches of moments he’d taken to stretch, walk, and even occasionally run since Angelique’s tracking spell.
He quietly approached the mirror’s surface—or at least as close to it as the mirror’s magic would let him—putting him directly opposite Faina.
Although he knew it wouldn’t help, Evariste reached for his magic, and ran into the accursed wall.
Angelique’s magic flickered around the blockade, and he caressed it as he stared into Faina’s distant, unfocused eyes.
If I can’t reach her with magic, maybe I could at least get her to hear me?
“Queen Faina,” Evariste said.
The Queen didn’t move, but thankfully the mirror didn’t seem to care, either, as it cooked up a batch of the larger constructs.
I hope it doesn’t intend to attack the servants and guards.
Evariste took a breath, then tried again. “Queen Faina of Mullberg. You’re in terrible danger. You need to wake up.”
He waited for a moment…but there was nothing.
The Queen didn’t even blink.
Evariste folded his arms across his chest as he thought.
She got worse after Snow White left—which was the only change in surroundings at the time. The mirror had already been feeding off me for…well…I’m not sure how long given the strange passage of time in here, but it was surely months. But if she gave into the mirror’s power after Snow White left, does that mean she resisted until she believed the princess was safe?
“Queen Faina,” Evariste tried again. “Princess Snow White is fighting the mirror. It’s sent enemies after her, and she’s defeated them.”
Again, she didn’t react.
“She’s trying to free you,” Evariste said, pressing the matter. “Princess Snow White is doing battle—for you.”
Evariste didn’t know that for certain, but he was willing to hedge his bets given the mirror’s vitriol to the princess and from what he’d seen of the Queen and Princess’s relationship.
For a moment, Evariste thought he saw something flicker in Queen Faina’s eyes. They weren’t quite as blank, and there almost seemed to be a light in them again.
And then the mirror’s attention slammed into Evariste with the subtly of a landslide.
“Fool.”
It was the only warning Evari
ste got before it ripped magic from him, using enough force to make him drop to his knees, jarring him so badly, his spine cracked.
He couldn’t breathe—again. Unfortunately, no matter how often that happened, his body still seemed to panic, and it was difficult to stay calm as agony ran him through like a sword.
“You can do nothing. You are weak, and your magic is thinning. Soon, you will be of no use to me, and then I’ll crush you entirely.”
Pain rocked Evariste. Hold it in. He clenched his teeth, unwilling to let a shout out—he wasn’t going to give the mirror that kind of satisfaction anymore.
Through the waves of pain, Evariste could see Faina turn around and march across the room, her limbs unnaturally stiff as the mirror sent her off.
Yes. Snow White is surely the key to Queen Faina.
Evariste gritted his teeth and shut his eyes before mentally retreating to the well of his magic. He couldn’t reach his own powers, but Angelique’s sharp, cold magic was a balm to the pain. And after several excruciating minutes, her magic sliced enough of the mirror’s hold off of him that he could breathe again.
Once I’m freed, I’m going to see that this mirror is destroyed and not even a shard remains.
As Marzell had declared, the warriors sent word to Lord Trubsinn.
The man sent a rather scathing letter back that browbeat the warriors for putting Snow White in danger and not immediately sending her to him as soon as she arrived, but Angelique took that as the heartbroken words of a man who’d already buried his daughter, son-in-law, and now very well may have to bury his granddaughter as well.
Lord Trubsinn said he would send word to the Veneno Conclave, but given her experience with them, Angelique was unconvinced they would do much.
Two days after Snow White was attacked, Fritz returned.
Witnessing the forester’s broken gaze as he watched Snow White was enough to rip Angelique’s heart asunder.
She could imagine a little of his pain. Evariste was her teacher—not the object of her affection—but the pain of losing him had nearly undone her.
That was why when night came, Angelique pretended to sleep, fully expecting Fritz to make a move.