by K. M. Shea
The thought was a constant beat in the back of his mind while the steady thrum of Angelique’s powers skulked around the wellspring of his magic.
He’d thought the magic would disappear once he got out of the mirror—or maybe leave when he saw Angelique again.
Instead, it seemed to be offended by the spell that walled off his magic and constantly tested it.
I’m being ridiculous. How can magic be offended?
Regardless, it was undeniable that the presence of her magic was…unusual. As was the time she’d successfully pulled his mind out of the nightmare spell Liliane had cast on him and plopped him down in her personal dream.
Angelique has obviously figured out I wasn’t a figment of her dreams. She readily enough let me leave the topic, but we’ll have to discuss it when we talk with Clovicus about whatever connection there is between us.
The thought made his chest dully ache.
She’d seemed confused about the dreams, and embarrassed.
I suppose it’s better than anger. But there’s no possible way for me to explain that I nearly kissed her for a reason she would find permissible.
Evariste rubbed his thumb on his goblet—the beveling done to the cup was a crisp sensation on his touch-starved finger tips. Regardless, it will have to wait. There are more important things to address first, and I don’t have the right to thrust my feelings upon Angelique after everything she’s done—even if doing so would break this spell.
Instead, I should think of what to tell Clovicus.
In addition to updating Clovicus, he was hoping his previous mentor might discover a work-around for the spell that blocked his magic, but it was a wane, feeble hope that he didn’t put much stock in.
Any hope is worth pursuing when it comes to that spell. I want to exhaust all other possibilities before facing the one Liliane gave me—acting on my darkest desire to declare my love to Angelique. I’m finally back with her. I don’t want to do anything that would scare her off.
Deep down, Evariste knew he had a duty. His magic would undoubtedly be useful in the coming fight against the Chosen.
But he’d survived so much pain and torture. Evariste didn’t know if he had the strength to sacrifice his relationship with Angelique, even if it was for the good of the continent.
A donkey’s bray eclipsed the swell of good cheer, and the sound inspired its companion donkey to bray as well.
One of the warriors he and Angelique had seen in the courtyard had brought the decked-out horse and its keg-filled cart inside the feasting hall. It stood placidly enough—it was the two donkeys the frequently-sneezing warrior had smuggled inside that added to the noise of the celebration with their happy but screechy brays.
Evariste leaned back in his chair and tried to discreetly massage his throbbing forehead.
I’m out of the mirror. I’m really out.
He felt a cold brush of magic and saw a line of silver curl around him. His heart sped up for a moment before he recognized the sharpness of Angelique’s magic as it encased him.
To his surprise, the boisterous noises of the celebration grew muffled and faded into a muted level that didn’t make his head ache.
He turned to Angelique—who was encased in the sound-reducing bubble with him.
She was sitting in her chair—balancing on the back two legs with a graceful casualness she’d never displayed before. When she felt his gaze, she glanced at him. “Roland taught me a few useful spells this winter,” she said. “I reverse-engineered one of them to muffle the sound of everything outside the bubble—thought it might be helpful if you’re feeling overwhelmed.”
Her thoughtfulness tugged at him like an insistent child.
She’d do this for anyone, he tried to remind himself. But she said my absence made her realize how important I was to her…
Evariste tried to shake the thought off. It wasn’t going to do him any good to build up hopes. Still, he was touched that she’d noticed and thought to do something.
He cleared his throat. “Thank you. The celebration is lovely, and I’m very glad for the noise, but…”
Angelique nodded. “I could tell it was getting to you. We can leave.”
Evariste shook his head. “No. I’d like to stay. I want to see people.”
“Very well. If you step out of the bubble, the noise level will return to normal.”
“I understand. Thank you.”
Angelique offered him a mischievous grin that made Evariste’s heart shudder in his chest before she set her chair down and stood up, leaving the bubble of quiet as she grabbed a lavender sprig from a decorative vase on the table. She leaned across the table and smacked one of the warriors on the face with it.
Evariste could hear her—though her words were muffled—as she shouted at the warrior. “That reminds me, Marzell. I owe you at least one garlic bulb to your face for all the grief you gave me about festering herbs!”
“My apologies, Lady Mage! Your disguise was too good—I never dreamed you were a powerful magic user!”
“Cute apologies now don’t make up for you constantly questioning me for using cooking herbs to heal wounds when all I was trying to do was hide my magic!”
Evariste chuckled—he’d heard a limited story of Angelique’s time with Princess Snow White and the warriors when she’d explained why she looked the way she did.
She’s happier. She isn’t approaching anyone here like she’s expecting to be kicked—or rejected.
Yes, coming out of the mirror and experiencing fresh air, true light, and noise again had been something of a shock to Evariste. But he was entirely unprepared for Angelique’s dramatic transformation.
She’d gone from a clever but relatively timid apprentice that held rigid expectations for herself and treated everyone like an audience member she had to fool, to a confident—albeit slightly jaded—enchantress who suffered no one and held back nothing.
She has friends, he thought as Princess Snow White called out to Angelique with a smile. Her countenance now makes me realize just how much growing she had to do when I made her take the practice examination to become an enchantress.
He wasn’t jealous—rather, he was happy for Angelique’s sake that despite all the pain and trials she’d been through, she’d grown as a result.
However, her confidence and her casual air (something she’d rarely shown him before) were intoxicating. He’d missed her laughter and smiles so much in the mirror, and now he came back to an Angelique that was surely his equal in terms of power and abilities.
I’m not sure how to react to it. Rather, I’m not sure how I should appear to react to her transformation—because I’m certain mooning over her like a lovesick fool is not appropriate.
Evariste sat up straighter and went back to picking at his food.
Duty first: save the continent. Evariste glanced sideways at Angelique as she re-entered the spelled area and sat down in her chair. I’ll have to free my magic—I just hope I can find an alternative way.
Chapter 32
The party went on into the late hours of the morning. Angelique had assumed Evariste would want to retire, but he seemed to be very much against sleeping, so they remained at the feast—though they retired to a space directly in front of the fireplace so they wouldn’t be in danger of getting fallen on once Lord Aldelbert began a table-dancing competition.
As the hours wore on, Angelique gave Evariste a highly abridged version of what she’d experienced while he was gone—going over everything from Severin’s curse to the freeing of the elves from Alabaster Forest, to the Council’s constant summons before she’d finally fought back.
Evariste told her pieces of what he’d observed about the Chosen, but Angelique suspected Severin would understand more of what his observations meant for the continent than she could.
Once the party had finally ended, Snow White had very sweetly asked Angelique if she, Evariste, and the Warriors would sleep in Queen Faina’s chambers that night—a last r
ing of protection from the threat of the Chosen.
Given that Angelique had been wracking her brain for a way to let Evariste sleep in a safe manner that would satisfy her, Angelique agreed.
So as the Seven Warriors scuffled among themselves, fighting to gain the most desired pieces of furniture, Angelique set up the most powerful defense wards she could muster (along with several alarm spells) and completely unleashed her magic, then took up a guard position on the wall.
She’d stood there ever since as the hours ticked by and, guessing by the bits of light that crept in under the heavy velvet drapes, morning had come, and the sun had risen.
Angelique stifled a yawn. Her eyes burned with her need for sleep—she hadn’t slept much since Snow White had eaten that poisoned apple—but she stood straight, the coldness of her magic keeping her alert and sharp.
I cannot sleep—not until others are awake to stand guard.
The door opened, and Snow White tip-toed inside, bearing a tray with three steaming mugs.
Snow White picked her way through the wasteland of unconscious-but-still-breathing warriors—Aldelbert and Wendal had taken over a dainty sofa that looked like it couldn’t possibly hold them both. Gregori had chosen a crumpled sleeping position that meant his head was hanging off the side of the sofa he’d claimed, and Marzell was actually sleeping on the floor with one leg propped up on a delicate tea table.
Snow White appeared to be in high spirits—she’d stolen out of Faina’s room roughly an hour ago, likely to receive reports. But despite her lack of sleep, her eyes were bright, and the smile she’d worn since last night hadn’t faded.
When she reached Angelique, she silently offered out her tray.
The only real noise in the room was Oswald’s blast-like snores—the warrior had passed out in an arm chair with his head tilted back, amplifying the sound.
Angelique picked up one of the three mugs and sniffed it, the rich scent of wine tickling her nose. Shaking her head, Angelique tried to set the mug back on the tray.
Snow White whisked the tray out of reach before Angelique could return the drink. “It’s sweetened and spiced,” she spoke in a voice so soft, not even Fritz moved.
“It might make me sleepy,” Angelique whispered.
“The warriors will wake up soon. They’ll take over guard duty,” Snow White said, her voice a tiny bit louder.
Ever faithful to his lady love, Fritz opened his eyes and straightened up in his chair.
It was on the tip of Angelique’s tongue to insist she was fine, but she could feel exhaustion creeping over her, making every muscle in her body heavy.
I won’t be any good to Evariste if I can’t function.
She glanced at the Lord Enchanter, who was dosing in a chair that he’d shifted to face her.
He also opened his eyes—which surprised Angelique; she’d thought he’d been sleeping. “Sleep, Angel,” he said in his soothing, musical voice.
Angelique shifted her weight back and forth, then reluctantly took a sip of the hot wine. It was chokingly boozy, but the warmth eased some of the stiffness in her joints and decreased the tightness in her chest.
“Any news on the mirror?” she asked.
Snow White’s shoulders briefly drooped. “I spoke to the leaders of the royal guard: nothing. Juwel was searched as well, and though we have witnesses who saw the thieves leave the palace, they lost track of them outside these walls.”
Angelique sighed. “That’s what I feared. They likely used magic in some way or another.” She tipped her head back to rest against the wall as she fought off a scowl.
The guards she’d sent to search the Chosen hideouts had returned empty handed as well shortly before the celebration ended.
The one bright spot was that they confirmed the dens were filled with documents and paperwork. They set up a large guard to make sure the Chosen didn’t try to come back to erase their tracks, and Angelique was hoping to ride out to inspect them later today…after a short rest and more food.
Snow White touched Angelique’s hand, jarring her from her thoughts. “Thank you; and I’m sorry,” she said.
“The mirror, Evariste, none of this was your fault.” Angelique glanced at Evariste—who had given up his farce of sleeping and was studying her from his chair.
“Will you tell me everything…later? After you’ve slept?” Snow White adjusted her hold on her tray as she peered suspiciously up at Angelique.
Angelique smiled fondly. Snow White is truly too good of a person. Even since determining I am obviously more than I ever claimed to be, she never once pushed for an explanation. I should tell her everything.
“Yes—whenever that is,” she said.
A frown slanted Snow White’s lips. “Fritz?”
Fritz popped to his feet even before Snow White turned to look at him, gently nudging Marzell on the ground with his foot while setting a hand on Rupert’s shoulder.
Marzell awoke with a groan and cracked his back while Rupert blinked awake. Once they weren’t quite so sleep addled, the duo looked up at Fritz.
“Our turn,” he said.
“That’s about right.” Marzell rolled to his feet and staggered a few steps. “Come on Oswald, Wendal, Aldelbert.”
Aldelbert leaped off his sofa with a disgusting amount of vigor. “Let us greet the morning sun and embrace our glory for the day!”
Wendal, the ever-faithful attendant, lunged to his feet, hopping over Gregori’s head to reach Aldelbert. “As My Lord orders!”
Snow White and Fritz exchanged an appropriately disgusting/love-filled gaze before Snow White made her way to the staircase that led to Faina’s loft-bedroom.
Aww, young love. I suppose you can’t fault them.
Bemused, Angelique shook her head as Marzell took control of the situation.
“Oswald, Rupert, I want the two of you outside the door. Gregori, take the base of the stairs.” Marzell pointed to the locations as Wendal helpfully patted down the enormous cowlick on the back of Marzell’s head that flapped with every movement he made.
Rupert slyly glanced in Angelique’s direction. “Are you going to find some dill—or perhaps some basil or oregano to make spells of protection for us?”
Angelique nonchalantly studied her nails. “I could spell you to smell like roses for the rest of your days. Would that suffice?”
Oswald rested the flat of his sword on his shoulder. “I liked you better before we knew you were a legitimate magic user, when we didn’t have to respect you.”
“Oh, dear Oswald,” Angelique chuckled. “You don’t have to respect me because I’m a mage. You have to respect me because I can terrorize you with a flock of chickens if you irritate me enough.”
“You still use that spell, do you?” Evariste gave up all pretenses of sleeping and stood up, stretching his arms out.
“From time to time,” Angelique said. “It is a surprisingly effective distraction.”
As Marzell continued to boss the warriors into proper positions, Angelique dug in her satchel—she still hadn’t changed out of her disguise-tunic—and unearthed her bespelled mirror.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to contact someone before I take my rest rotation.”
Rupert frowned at her. “You could contact help all this time, and you didn’t?”
“I can contact help, but I cannot—in fact—instantly transport them to my side,” Angelique snarled. She froze, realizing what she’d said, and glanced at Evariste.
He still wore that faint look of contentment he hadn’t lost since stepping through the mirror. “You mean to contact Clovicus?”
“Yes.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll listen in. I’m very eager to see him again—finally,” he said.
“Of course!” Angelique slightly bowed her head, then picked her way through the askew furniture, stopping by a window.
She didn’t care if the warriors heard what she had to tell the Lord Enchanter—they were allies, after all—but she need
ed a bit of light, or Clovicus wouldn’t be able to see her in the nearly dark room.
She twitched back one of the velvet curtains (half blinding herself in the golden light of the morning sun), then plucked at the spell that powered the mirror, directing it to search for Clovicus.
“Angelique? Did you free Queen Faina? What happened?” Clovicus started talking when the mirror’s surface was still swirling, before the spell completely settled into place and displayed his bright red hair and tired eyes.
Angelique laughed, overjoyed that for the first time in a long time, she could share happy news with the enchanter. “Queen Faina is safe, and the Chosen who were bespelling her have been chased out. But that’s not all!”
“What is it? Spit it out—I’ve been traveling nearly nonstop to get back to the Conclave to help you,” Clovicus said.
She was barely aware of Evariste’s presence at her side, until he leaned in upon hearing Clovicus’ voice. “Hello, Master Clovicus,” he said with a hint of mischief and warmth in his voice.
“Evariste?” There was a sense of wonder to Clovicus’s voice as he jammed his face against his mirror. “Is that really you?”
Evariste moved a tiny bit closer to Angelique, so the side of his head leaned against Angelique’s. “It is. Angel fished me out of the mirror I was trapped in.”
Clovicus’s strong, handsome face crumpled, and his shoulders shook with the force of his emotion as he spoke in a broken voice. “Evariste—you bratty rascal.” His eyes were glossy with tears, and a choked chuckle escaped from him. “I’m so glad you’re back.”
Angelique had never doubted the Lord Enchanter was fond of Evariste, but his reaction made her realize just how deep the bond was.
“Of course,” Evariste grinned. “I could never leave you to live out the rest of your old, dried up life in peace. That’d be too nice for you.”
“You better not, you runty mouse,” Clovicus declared. “If you ever get yourself captured again, I will drag you across the continent by your ear!”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Evariste said.