by Shea, K. M.
It took Quinn a moment to realize the angry woman was none other than Lady Enchantress Angelique. She looked worse than when Quinn had first run into her. The circles under her eyes had only gotten darker; the elaborate braid her hair was pulled back into was half undone, and though she wore a new cloak, it was even dirtier—however, her shimmering dress was still just as lovely as ever.
“Angelique?” Emerys asked, his voice colored with surprise.
“I have been searching this stupid border for days looking for you! I assumed you would be eager to test the limits of your curse and try to free yourself, but instead I find you flirting awkwardly with THIS!” Angelique switched her finger to point at Quinn, then squinted at her. “Oh, you’re the soldier from the road. Well, you I still like. But you!” Angelique whirled her attention back to Emerys with the wrath of a dragon.
“I’m glad to see you too, Angelique,” Emerys said.
Angelique wordlessly huffed.
“How did you find us?” Quinn asked.
“Through your talking. I’d recognize His Majesty’s stupid, smug, self-satisfied voice anywhere,” the lady enchantress snarled, sounding more like a barracks mistress than a mage.
“You’ve dropped the act finally, have you?” Emerys asked. “She always pretended to be this meek and quiet thing,” Emerys said conversationally as he turned to face Quinn. “She stammered and blushed like mad whenever anyone talked to her and always acted like those tranquil yet bossy enchantresses you hear about in the stories, but I knew she had to have hidden fire. You can’t have her magic of—”
Angelique hurled a rock with such force, it whistled as it passed perilously close to the nose of Emerys’ mask. “Not a word.” Gone was her anger. In its place was quiet, barely contained rage.
Emerys straightened. “Angelique, you’ll have to get over it one day. Your magic isn’t something you can deny.”
Angelique’s face was devoid of all emotion as she stared at him. “Not a word,” she repeated.
He sighed and rubbed the back of his head. “Right. Why are you standing in the human woods?”
The huffy anger was back, making Angelique puff up like an angry cat. “Because I’m not an elf-friend, so I can’t just stroll in whenever I like!”
Emerys snapped his fingers. “That’s right! I forgot about that,” he said brightly.
Quinn glanced at Angelique, who was trembling with anger, and put her hand on Emerys’ arm. “Emerys,” she said. “The Lady Enchantress has been through a lot. Stop playing games.”
Emerys looked from Quinn to Angelique, then shifted his weight. “Right. Sorry, Angelique. Please enter Alabaster Forest. As the King of the Elves, I offer shelter and safe haven to you as long as you should need it.”
Angelique blinked rapidly—probably in a move to fight off tears. She nodded, then marched into the woods rather stiffly.
“Come,” Quinn said, her voice warm and soothing as she motioned for the enchantress to follow her. She tugged on Din’s reins and started moving. “We can talk as we walk to Sideralis.”
Angelique nodded elegantly. “Could you explain to me how the two of you came to be friends?” she asked, some semblance of control returning to her as she smiled wanly. “I fear I am rather out of the loop.”
“A lot has happened since I spoke to you,” Quinn said, flashing Emerys a quick smile when he moved to walk shoulder-to-shoulder with her. “I suppose I should start with the princesses. They’re cursed along with the elves…”
* * *
“In other words, the situation is well beyond dire.” Angelique primly held her teacup, her gaze steady as she looked from Quinn to Emerys. “Everything stands upon the edge of utter catastrophe with the goblins ready to sweep in and slaughter all elves, which likely means the Chosen is well aware—perhaps even worried—that Farset is now stepping in on your behalf. No one has figured out how to end your curse; you cannot even tell us how your curse was placed on you, and even if the curse is lifted, your people are far too weak to stand against the goblins or any enemy. In short, it seems the only possible course of action is defense—with no way to strike on the offense.”
“That sounds pretty accurate,” Emerys said.
Angelique set her teacup down with a quiet clink. “I see. I came here hoping you might be able to help the continent, but it seems that is not possible.”
“Correct,” Emerys grimly agreed. “If it was broken, and we had a few months to recover…”
“And you cannot tell me anything about Lord Enchanter Evariste?” Angelique’s voice sounded small and painfully hopeful.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Angelique sighed and shook her head. “I should have expected as much. But I had hoped…”
“The King and Queen are searching for you,” Quinn said.
“Seeking my help, no doubt,” Angelique said sourly. She narrowed her gaze and studied Emerys. “Tell me this. Your curse cannot be broken by true love’s first kiss or by someone falling in love with you, correct?”
“Correct,” Emerys said.
“Good. I thought not.” Angelique picked her teacup up again.
“Can you study his curse and tell us how it can be broken?” Quinn asked.
The enchantress frowned. “Unfortunately, not this time. Normally I can, and I’ve been trying to get a look at it since I met you. If you study a spell, you can generally pick it apart and see the loops and strings of power in it. However, whoever powered this curse had a great deal of power and highly advanced magic, which makes it nearly impossible for me to read. I can tell that the magic user who cast the magic is not the same magic user who provided the power.” Angelique traced two separate lines across Emerys. “There’s some discord between them. Unfortunately, I can’t get a read on who supplied the power—the spell caster’s magic covers it too heavily.”
Emerys nodded. He opened and closed his mouth, frowning at his inability to speak, and slammed his fist on the table.
“I understand your frustration perfectly,” Angelique said dryly. “The duel casting, unfortunately, makes it nearly impossible to alter. In the past I’ve had some luck changing and altering curses, but whatever was put on you is a level of skill far beyond my reach.”
Emerys shrugged. “I expected as much.”
Angelique narrowed her eyes as she studied him. “You expected that?”
He nodded.
The Lady Enchantress nodded slowly.
Angelique—an enchantress—is powerless to help, yet Emerys believes I could break the curse? Quinn stifled the desire to rub her eyes. The situation seems to grow more confusing the more I learn about it.
Shaking her head, Quinn cleared her throat and put a slight smile on her lips. “Tonight my band and I are to follow the princesses for the last time. Tomorrow I’m bringing some military officers here to meeting with Emerys and the humans stranded here. Will you join us?”
Angelique sighed and looked at her teacup.
“You should stay here for a few days at the minimum, Angelique,” Emerys said. “You look awful.”
Angelique frowned. “How your kind words warm me,” she said. “You just want me around because you’re hoping I can help.”
“You’re an enchantress,” Emerys said.
“In training!” Angelique shot back.
“That’s a load of bosh. You could have become one years ago based on your power alone,” he said.
Angelique hunched her shoulders up, and Quinn again set her hand on Emerys’ arm. “Don’t push her,” she warned.
Emerys nodded, then maneuvered his arm so he held Quinn’s hand in his. Quinn licked her dried lips and tried to pretend that this didn’t make her toes curl in her boots. Emerys, however, glanced at Angelique.
She noticed his gaze and frowned. “What do you want?”
Emerys moved his face so his mask pointed down to his fingers intertwined with Quinn’s.
“Am I supposed to approve of your relationship in Lord En
chanter Evariste’s absence? Congratulations, you’re very—very—lucky she’s willing to put up with you,” Angelique said sourly.
Angelique’s blunt words nearly made Quinn’s heart stop. “W-what?” she stammered.
“T-that’s not what I meant!” Emerys puffed up like a startled cat.
“Oh, you’re still in that stage where neither of you have confessed yet. How cute,” Angelique added drolly. She rolled her eyes and sipped her tea. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear there was some kind of love blessing on this generation,” she grumbled. “Everyone is getting married and falling in love in situations that, frankly, I don’t think are at all romantic—much less logical!”
“Angelique has never had any special feelings for anyone,” Emerys told Quinn.
“Who has time to flirt and giggle when you’re running for your life?” Angelique continued, ignoring the Elf King.
“It always made me feel sorry for Evariste,” Emerys said. “Poor man constantly tried to convince her romantic love was a valid and special thing.”
“I swear, if I have to deal with one more curse that involves true love, I’m going to scream,” Angelique griped.
Quinn blinked twice. “I see…” she said slowly. She glanced at her and Emerys’ hands—her cheeks threatening to heat when he squeezed her fingers—then lifted her gaze to Angelique who was peering suspiciously into her teacup. “So, Angelique, will you help us?”
Angelique sighed and put her teacup down again. “I’ll remain in the area. It seems like the elves and the twelve princesses of Farset are the last hold-outs of curses—at this moment. Every other country has resolved its issues and is now working with Prince Severin and Prince Lucien to shore up their defenses. As long as I am here, I will provide support to the Farset army and fight with them.”
Emerys smiled. “Thank you, Angelique.”
She shrugged. “I’m not using my core magic,” she warned him.
“Just being here is enough,” Emerys promised her.
“If you’ll excuse me asking, but what do you mean by core magic?” Quinn asked.
“Most mages have one specific kind of magic they can use and specialize in.” Angelique sat up straighter in her chair. “It’s called their core magic because it is where their strength lies and is considered—to a certain extent—a reflection of who they are. Weather mages are gifted with weather control; craftmages have the power to place spells and charms on inanimate objects, and so on. The more powerful magic users, like Lord Enchanters, have such a high level of core magic, they can use it to achieve other spells that would normally be beyond their abilities. As an enchantress, I can spin illusions, modify curses, use a bit of weather magic, and more because I power the spells with my core magic. But the strongest spells any magic user—enchantress or otherwise—can cast will always be those involving their core magic.”
“And you do not like to use yours?” Quinn asked.
“Correct,” Angelique said flatly.
“I see.” Quinn said. She wanted to shift. The hand Emerys was still holding was getting overly warm. I am such an idiot. This is Emerys. I don’t have to be shy. She glanced up at him and was surprised to find Emerys studying her. She cleared her throat and quickly looked away. Yes. An idiot.
“Will you remain here, in Sideralis, tonight while the rest of us attend the…celebration?” Emerys asked.
“Yes, I’ll rest here,” Angelique said. “As I said earlier, there’s nothing I can do to change or alter your curse. It’s too powerful. Even if I worked with Sybilla, we couldn’t change it. So there is no sense in joining you.”
“Emerys indicated earlier that Lord Enchanter Evariste could end the curse,” Quinn said.
Angelique peered at Emerys again. “I suppose it’s possible. He has a much greater understanding of casted spells and curses—like this one.”
Emerys grimly shook his head.
“That’s not why?” Angelique said, sounding surprised.
Emerys opened his mouth again, but all that came out was a strangled growl.
Angelique frowned thoughtfully and picked up her teacup. “I’ll try to ponder why he would make a difference then. In the meantime, I wish you luck with your endeavors tonight, Quinn.”
“Thank you, Lady Enchantress,” Quinn said.
“Angelique,” she was quick to correct.
Quinn smiled. “Angelique.”
“You’ll need to take extra care, Quinn,” Emerys said. “If you mingle in the party, that will make its pull that much stronger.”
“We guessed as much, but I appreciate the warning,” Quinn said.
“It speaks highly of your abilities that you and your band have uncovered this much,” Angelique said. “Perhaps the Veneno Conclave should consider adopting similar training methods.”
“The Conclave does not train its students for war,” Emerys pointed out.
“True.” Angelique sighed and stared at the wooden table. “I can’t help but wonder if that has contributed to our inability to respond to the numerous direct attacks by the Chosen. We’re too afraid to get our hands dirty and wade into the muck to help.”
“You aren’t afraid,” Quinn said.
Angelique smiled, erasing some of the exhaustion from her face. “Of course, I am. But I had a very good master who taught me that I needed to reach past my fears for the sake of saving lives. Those with magic have a duty to help others in need.”
Emerys grunted. “Evariste always was a do-good preacher.” He blinked, then quickly corrected himself. “And he still is, I imagine.”
“Yes,” Angelique said softly. “I hope so.”
Emerys glanced out the window. “We have some time before you need to leave, right, Quinn?”
“Yes,” Quinn said.
“Great. Then we may as well prep for tomorrow. There’s a specific government building I would like to meet in, and I’d prefer you don’t drag your generals through any random spot in the border. Come, I can show you the places.” Emerys let go of her hand so he could stand. “You can take up residence in your usual room, Angelique,” Emerys called over his shoulder as he headed out the door.
“Thank you,” Angelique said.
Emerys raised his hand to acknowledge her.
“I will see you tomorrow, Angelique. May I report to my superior officer tonight that you will be present tomorrow?” Quinn asked.
“Please do,” Angelique said.
Quinn offered her a slight bow. “Take care.”
“You as well!”
Quinn smiled as she left the parlor and trotted after Emerys. We might not be any closer to breaking the curse, but between Lady Enchantress Angelique and the Farset army, I am confident we’ll be able to ward off the goblins as long as necessary.
Chapter 12
The Third Night
Quinn twitched the invisibility cloak off herself and Roy. She glanced over at her band mate, who was staring into the glittering festival.
Though Alastryn had started the festivities approximately an hour ago, they hadn’t yet approached any of the cursed humans. (Kenneth told them to wait until the princesses were fully consumed with dancing and the party.)
“Ready for tonight?” Quinn asked as she began folding the cloak.
“Yes,” Roy said, his voice steady. “It’s nice to work with you again. Besides the nights we have followed the princesses, I haven’t seen you much.”
“The split assignments have divided us up,” Quinn acknowledged.
“I’ve missed you,” Roy said suddenly.
Quinn glanced at him in surprise, and he shrugged awkwardly. “We usually do everything together, and you’ve been busy with…” he trailed off and turned his back to her. “King Dirth confirmed it, you know.”
Quinn matched the corners of her cloak and folded it again. “Confirmed what?”
“I will be given my choice of the princesses to marry. Kenneth and Guy were told they could marry a princess as well if they liked, but
they opted for the monetary reward you and Leigh will receive.” Roy’s face was unreadable as the light from the flowers and glowing vines flickered across his face.
Quinn paused. It’s not much of a surprise, she realized. Snagging a princess has been his goal since the start of this. “Congratulations.”
Roy whirled around to face her, his eyebrows drawn together as he met her gaze.
Quinn smiled. “I thought you were crazy when you first volunteered, but you’ve changed the course of our nation. Well done, Roy.”
Roy curled his hands into fists but nodded mutely, then turned around to face the crowds again.
That bothered him? Why? “Who will the lucky princess be?”
“The eldest—Alena,” Roy said.
Quinn hung the invisibility cloak over her left arm, then moved to stand next to her longtime friend. “I see.”
“You would rather I choose someone else?” Roy asked.
“Princess Brittany and Princess Diana seem more…favorable,” Quinn said slowly.
Roy stiffened. “You don’t think I’m fit to be king?”
Quinn nudged him in the side. “It’s rather that, as your friend, I want a happy marriage for you.”
“Alena is beautiful, elegant, and poised. Everything a man could want,” Roy said.
Quinn shrugged. A month ago such a statement would have made me cringe. But now I know it’s not true. Emerys encourages my soldier-like inclinations. “Princess Diana is swift to laugh and sweet in temper, and though Princess Brittany is quiet, she loves her sisters.”
Quinn folded her arms against her stomach to keep from reaching for a bowl of glazed hazelnuts. The food—from the rich scent of sage in the roasted chicken to the sweet tang of honey-glazed yams and the zing of spiced wine—smelled especially delectable.
The curse beckoned her. “Come! Dance and eat to your heart’s content!”
She brushed the observation off with a shake of her head.
“Alena loves her sisters,” Roy said.