by K. M. Shea
When Sinèad took in a stuttering breath and leaned back, Angelique heard the scuff of boots on the rock path behind her.
Still kneeling, Angelique twisted, peering back behind her self-appointed guards.
Rein, the master weather mage with hair a distinct shade of ocean blue, stood in the alleyway, his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. He stared blankly at the road, his hair messy and his clothes wrinkled.
“Blanche is gone,” he said.
Angelique squeezed Sinèad’s shoulder, then stood. “What?”
“Blanche was with them. The Chosen.” The wind ruffled Rein’s blue hair. “We were holding a demonstration for students… When the fight broke out, she attacked me. She hurt three of the children with a lightning strike.”
“Blanche did?” Angelique raised a hand to massage her forehead, but it felt pointless.
Blanche and Alfonso were some of the brightest in the Veneno Conclave. How could this happen? How could they turn their back on everyone and betray them like this?
Rein slowly raised his eyes, honing in on Angelique. “You tried to warn us.”
“I didn’t know it was this bad,” Angelique said. “I would have tried harder…”
“How could they do this to us?” Sinèad’s voice was small and frail. “How could they smile at us every day, laugh with us, fight with us, and then betray us?”
“Did we do something?” Rein asked. “Could we have—”
“No.” Angelique’s voice was hard and unforgiving. “They made this choice. I don’t know why, but you cannot take responsibility for it.”
Sinèad closed her eyes. “How do we recover from this? How do we know there aren’t more black mages among us?”
Angelique flinched at the unwelcome idea, but Sinèad was right. It wasn’t certain that all of the Chosen had left with Crest, Primrose, Lazare, and Galendra. Angelique flicked her core magic away when it curled around her, purring over a few broken fragments of the fountain.
“Angelique?” Lovelana stepped out of the alleyway.
“Lovelana, hello.”
“You’re looking much better. I’m glad.” Lovelana grimaced. “I tried to heal you, but it didn’t seem to do much…”
“My price is particularly stubborn,” Angelique said wryly. “Very little improves it besides time.”
Lovelana wrinkled her nose. “I’m going to take that as a challenge. But I digress. He’s looking for you.”
“Who?” Angelique frowned, her forehead furrowing.
Lovelana laughed. “Whom do you think? Evariste!”
Angelique blinked, surprised. That’s right…he’s back. I don’t have to face this alone.
“You’d better find him—he seems…on edge without you,” Lovelana said. “I think he barely stopped himself from bludgeoning Tristisim no less than three times.”
Angelique took a jolting step forward, then stopped, her gaze flicking from Sinèad to Rein.
“Go,” Lovelana said. “I’ll stay here.”
The edges of Angelique’s lips curled up into a grin she couldn’t hold back. She ran, waving to Lovelana as she passed the openly grinning enchantress.
She jumped a pile of rubble and zipped back out to the main road.
The gauzy purple tent was brighter now that the morning sun had climbed past the horizon. There was the scrape of boots, and Evariste stepped around the corner of the tent, his eyes skimming the decimated buildings.
“Evariste,” Angelique called.
He smiled when he saw her, and in a gesture that was so familiar and yet different, opened his arms.
Smiling and nearly sobbing with relief, Angelique walked into the embrace.
He may not have his magic, but he’s still here.
He tugged one of his hands through the wild mess of her dark hair and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “Good morning.”
“Morning.”
“I hope your sleep wasn’t too uncomfortable?” He arranged his arms around her back and shoulders.
“Nah, I’ve slept on worse.” Angelique’s eyes drifted shut as she listened to the warm tone of his voice.
Evariste’s hand that grasped her shoulder tightened fractionally, but he didn’t say anything.
“How are you?” Angelique asked.
“I’m uninjured.”
“And the situation?”
“Not good.” Evariste sighed and changed the tilt of his head so his lips almost brushed her ear as he spoke. “It’s estimated that a fourth of our mages left.”
“The war mage who was guarding me while I slept told me. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen last night for myself.” Angelique reflexively tightened her grasp on his black cloak.
Evariste sighed, his breath stirring her hair. “Yes.”
They were quiet for a moment, holding each other in all the pain.
“This doesn’t bode well for the continent, does it?” Angelique asked. “Because this means without a doubt, we’re going to enter into a full-on magic war.”
Evariste didn’t reply.
Angelique sagged into him and wished things were different. Evariste’s warmth and the firm pressure of his hands was reassuring and inviting. She felt her breathing deepen as Evariste rubbed a sore spot on her shoulder.
“Ahem.”
Evariste grumbled something under his breath Angelique didn’t catch as she stepped out of his arms so she could turn around.
Lady Enchantress Felicienne stood in the opening of the square tent, Lord Enchanter Tristisim standing next to her.
Clovicus popped out of the tent, shoving his head between the frowning pair. “What are we looking at? Oh.” He visibly lost interest when he saw Evariste and Angelique. “It’s just Evariste and Angelique. That’s nothing to get stirred up over.”
Felicienne twisted so she could bestow her frown upon Clovicus, but the copper-haired enchanter wriggled between her and Tristisim, making the other enchanters move or risk getting an elbow in the nose.
“You’re looking unexpectedly perky considering you flushed out an entire traitorous faction, Angelique.” Clovicus shook out his robes and strolled up to them. Although he smiled, Angelique could see the shadows of grief in his face.
“I hardly did it on my own,” Angelique dryly said. “As I recall last night, you and the war mages took on the responsibility for the clean-up.”
“Yes, yes, yes. We did so much to drive off the stragglers. You merely took on four Council Members by your lonesome and scared them so deeply, they blew their cover.” Despite the lighthearted sound of his voice, his smile faded. Clovicus rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “We all owe you a great debt.”
Angelique shrugged miserably. “I didn’t solve any problems. I just revealed them.”
“And if you hadn’t, things only would have gotten worse,” Clovicus said. “It’s not just all the mages we lost; it’s whom we lost.”
“What do you mean?” Angelique asked.
Clovicus glanced around the empty street. “Why don’t you step inside our temporary quarters, and we’ll tell you what we’ve sorted out.”
Angelique nodded and began to amble up to the tent.
Behind her, Evariste said in a bell-light voice. “The two of you seem to have gotten chummy in my absence.”
“Of course.” Clovicus grabbed his one-time pupil by the cloak and ruffled his hair. “Naturally I’d look after your dear apprentice while you were missing.”
“Clovicus and Sybilla were both a great help to me in your absence,” Angelique said. She peered inside the tent, which was lit with starfire crystals and sported a rickety wooden table, a few wooden chairs, and a caddy of cooled tea. “Where is Sybilla? I assumed she would be involved in this discussion.”
“She was,” Clovicus said. “A bit before dawn, she left to go tell Mage Finnr what we’ve discussed.”
“Finnr is still here?” Angelique asked, not quite able to keep her surprise out of her voice. If she had to
guess who would be a Chosen mage, she would have thought of him. He was in general grumpy, prone to disagreeing with any action anyone suggested taking on behalf of the continent, and actively refused to help—choosing, instead, to focus on who was breaking what rules of the Veneno Conclave.
“Yes,” Evariste said. “He’s one of the few we can say with confidence is high ranking and not a black mage.”
“Really?” Angelique asked skeptically.
“Try not to let your negative experiences with him color your view,” Clovicus advised. “The man is as fun as a herd of wild pigs, but he sticks to his morals.”
Evariste watched her with a wrinkled brow. “Finnr is…” He looked like he wanted to say something more, but he glanced at Tristisim and Felicienne and fell silent.
The two remaining Council Members sat down in two of the wooden chairs. Felicienne delicately rubbed the spot between her eyes while Tristisim openly scowled at Angelique.
“Thank you,” Tristisim abruptly said.
Angelique looked from Clovicus to Evariste and wondered who he was talking to.
“Apprentice,” Tristisim added. “We owe you our gratitude for last night—though I don’t know you went about it in the best of ways.”
“Excuse me.” Clovicus nodded to Angelique, casually made his way over to Tristisim, and kicked the older Lord Enchanter in the shins with enough force to make the Council Member fold over with a cry of pain. “Since you appear to have the manners of a toddler, please allow me to school you, Lord Enchanter,” Clovicus said in a bright and airy voice. “When profusely thanking the person who may very well be single-handedly responsible for saving the entire Veneno Conclave—perhaps even the continent—one does not go about being ungrateful for the manner in which they performed said deed, namely because one should be overcome with gratitude.”
Tristisim scowled up at Clovicus, his craggy face unhappily lined.
Surprisingly, it was Felicienne who spoke next. “Clovicus is right,” she said. “Angelique, on behalf of the entire Veneno Conclave, thank you for your actions last night. I never expected…Primrose and the others were my friends. I didn’t think they could…” Her hands shook, and she pressed her lips together.
“The events of last night surprised us all,” Angelique carefully replied. “But it is good that we know. Now, we can prepare.”
“Yes,” Clovicus said. “And we’ll need to.”
“Does that refer to your prior comment, about those who left?” Angelique asked.
“Exactly.” Even though Clovicus’ coppery hair was barely burnished with silver, and he appeared to be in his mid-forties or so, he eased himself into a chair with the sigh of an old man. “The danger of the Chosen wasn’t just that they made up a good fourth of our numbers, it was that many of them were in positions of power within the Veneno Conclave.”
“They obviously infiltrated the highest ranks given that four of the six Council Members were secretly Chosen mages. Unfortunately, they inserted themselves everywhere.” Evariste rested his palms on the table and leaned over it, looking haggard.
He doesn’t have his magic, and he’s still doing everything he can.
He met Angelique’s gaze, his face smoothed into an unreadable expression. “The headmaster of Luxi-Domus is missing, as are a number of key faculty members.”
“They were Chosen?”
“Most likely. We’re tracking down any witnesses that might have seen him flee,” Evariste said.
Angelique bit the inside of her cheek. “Sinèad from the Assignments and Appointments Department said her husband, Alfonso left. Rein said Blanche ran, too.”
Clovicus sighed deeply. “That seems about right. Since Sinèad runs the Assignments and Appointments Department, Alfonso would have had easy access to all appointment records and influence over who was sent where. Blanche was a Master Weather Mage and was one of the most respected weather mages of our time. Both of them filled key roles of power, covertly more than overtly.”
“Do you think they were preparing for a takeover?” Angelique asked.
“Assumedly.” Evariste stood straight, then prowled closer to her. “Liliane never spoke about taking over the Veneno Conclave, but she didn’t ever seem particularly concerned about the danger it posed, either.”
“The base goal was likely to make us useless in the coming fight,” Clovicus grimly said.
“They succeeded.” Felicienne held her hand out, her expression almost pleading. “How can we move past this? We can’t be sure who is friend and who is foe, and we’ve all suffered betrayal of one form or another.”
Angelique massaged a knot in her shoulder. “I’ll notify Prince Severin of Loire immediately. Last night’s events will greatly change the strategy he’s been developing against the Chosen. Thankfully, I have a magic mirror I can use to contact him. Oh, and I’ll send word to Princess Snow White, too. She doesn’t have a mirror—yet—so it will have to be a physical message.”
Felicienne frowned. “Of Mullberg.”
Angelique couldn’t help but snark, “I was unaware there was another winter-named princess cavorting around the continent.”
“Perhaps we should wait before informing Loire and Mullberg,” Felicienne said.
“Why?” Angelique asked.
“If they hear of the position we’re in, they will act,” Tristisim said.
“Yes, yes,” Angelique nodded her head at his words. “That is generally the point of informing someone of what has happened in a situation like this.”
“They will try to interfere in mage business,” Tristisim said. “Which cannot be allowed.”
Chapter 37
Angelique froze mid-nod. “…What?”
“We are weakened,” Felicienne said. “In this state, they could force us to do whatever they like.”
“Perhaps we shouldn’t care quite so much about our autonomy as we should care that the Chosen just walked off with a fourth of our mages and that we will very likely face those mages on the field of battle,” Angelique suggested.
“We must be concerned with our autonomy,” Tristisim said. “It was forged into the very foundations of the Veneno Conclave. It is our law. We must always stand separate.”
Evariste shrugged. “Why? Based on our findings, you can’t say we’ve done the best of job being autonomous.”
Angelique laughed, earning a grin from Evariste.
Felicienne frowned slightly while studying them. “It seems the two of you have developed an unholy sense of humor.”
“You’ll have to forgive us,” Evariste said. “That’s what happens when one is locked in a mirror for years or is forced to save the continent on a daily basis instead of lying around a fortress without a daydream of what the enemy has done.”
Felicienne turned bright red and pointedly turned her gaze away from them.
Clovicus cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. He smiled warmly, and then twisted the knife with his gentle voice. “Has it occurred to you, Tristisim and Felicienne, that the Chosen used your passion for Conclave law and isolation to manipulate you into doing what they wanted?”
“Impossible,” Tristisim said. “The laws exist for the good of the Conclave.”
“And yet they almost had you talked into sealing our dear little Angelique—the magic user they fear most in this world,” Clovicus mildly said. “Just think, if it weren’t for Evariste and his unholy humor, we’d be in much more trouble.”
Felicienne hesitated, then nodded.
Tristisim, however, slammed his hands down on the table, jarring the empty tea pot and cups. “I won’t allow it.”
“I don’t care what you allow or not,” Angelique said frankly. “You lost that option when the Chosen revealed just how precarious our position is. The countries have to help us, or we’ll lose everything. And while I’d be perfectly satisfied to see you sacrificed for your misplaced ideals—at least it would mean you’d actually be doing something for a change—I won’t allow you to
take the rest of the mages down with you.”
Tristisim looked murderous, but Clovicus whistled. “Angelique, you’ve grown quite daring over the winter.”
“Not hardly,” Angelique dryly said. “I merely am no longer willing to put up with useless prattle that accomplishes nothing in facing our enemy.” Angelique stared Tristisim down. “You do what you wish. I’m joining Severin in fighting against the Chosen. He’s been preparing all these years that the mages have spent dithering. Given what has been said about which mages belonged to the ranks of the Chosen, we need to be prepared for the worst.”
Rather than waste words arguing, Angelique slipped out of the tent, almost ramming into one of her war mage shadows.
She awkwardly nodded to them and skirted sideways.
“Do you need anything, Lady Enchantress?” the leader asked.
“Uhh, no. I just have to grab my mirror and send off a message, but I’ll use magical methods for that.” Angelique scratched the back of her neck and forced a strained laugh. “I just need to find my satchel.”
“I’ll come with you.”
Angelique jumped at Evariste’s unexpected offer. She hadn’t noticed that he’d slipped out after her. Belatedly, she smiled at him. “Are you sure you don’t need to go rest?”
He flinched. “I’d rather not.”
Angelique studied him for a moment. The strain of exhaustion was still there (staying up all night wouldn’t have helped that, obviously), but more pressing than the exhaustion was the hint of darkness that shadowed his eyes.
It seems sleep still isn’t restful for him. I suppose the events of last night would only amplify the horror of what he endured in the mirror. I can understand why he has no desire to sleep.
“Very well.” Angelique pointed to the main building of the Veneno Conclave. “Shall we go? I assume you left my bag somewhere in there?”
“Yes, my office, as a matter of fact.”
“Excellent! Then—”
“If you’ll excuse my intrusion, Lady Enchantress, what are your orders?” the leading war mage asked.