by K. M. Shea
It was difficult for Angelique to breathe. She was terrified she would make a mistake, but she didn’t want to disappoint Master Evariste. She glanced at Princess Alessia—whose shoulders heaved with sobs.
Angelique curled her hands into fists and nodded. She would do it—for the princess, and for the baby. She would harness her magic and work with it. “I’ll do it.” Her voice shook a little, though her words were firm.
Evariste removed his warm hand from her shoulder and instead offered it out to her. “And I will help you.”
Angelique hesitated, then placed her hand in his. Reassurance surged through her as he intertwined his fingers with hers, and they approached the royal family of Sole together.
A knight approached King Giuseppe, his face ashen. “We failed to capture Carabosso, Your Majesty. We thought we had him cornered in an outer courtyard, but he slipped through our shields.”
King Giuseppe stared coldly at Evariste as they approached him. “You should have stopped him. You are an enchanter—you have the power.” He spared a glance down at his granddaughter when she gurgled.
Evariste responded calmly. “It is not quite as easy as that, I’m afraid. Fortunately, we have a chance to modify the curse. My apprentice, Angelique, is quite capable. She will give the princess a gift as well, and she will modify Carabosso’s magic.”
King Giuseppe swung his gaze from Evariste to Angelique. “An apprentice?”
Angelique barely noticed the king’s sour question and instead stared at Princess Rosalinda. Could she really modify her curse? Angelique felt her magic curl around her—eager to be used—and she ruthlessly kicked it away again.
Evariste stepped around King Giuseppe and tugged Angelique towards Princess Alessia. “Princess Alessia, Prince Consort Filippo, rest assured we will save your daughter. If you give my apprentice and me a few minutes to prepare, we will modify Princess Rosalinda’s curse shortly.”
It took all of Angelique’s will to keep from shrieking. Shortly? Curse-modification was a complex and advanced art! She wouldn’t trust a genius mage to begin wielding difficult spells immediately after learning them, much less trust herself with something that put a life at risk!
Angelique eyed Evariste and wondered if she dared risking his disappointment. She hated to fail him after all he had done for her, but this was too perilous!
Princess Alessia’s lower lip trembled. “You can break the curse?”
“The curse will unfortunately remain, but Angelique can save her,” Evariste said.
Princess Alessia turned her lovely blue eyes onto Angelique. “Thank you!” She started crying anew as her husband curled an arm around her back and kissed her on the forehead. “Please, save our little girl.”
Perfectly aware Evariste had used his own cleverness and Princess Alessia to manipulate her, Angelique smiled. “I will do my best,” she said between clenched teeth.
“If you would spare us for a few moments, we will be ready to begin shortly,” Evariste said.
“Of course.” Princess Alessia nodded and dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief.
Evariste—still holding Angelique’s hand—tugged her away from the couple.
Feeling a little betrayed by the man she nearly idolized, she uttered a strangled, “Master?”
Evariste ignored her concern. “Listen to me, Angel. When dealing with curses, it is important to understand that they can’t be broken by personal will or power,” he said. “Curses find their power in black magic and black emotions—bitterness, hatred, and the like. To break them you have to use something even more powerful: love and light. There are many different ways to break a curse with the power of love. There is sisterly love, parental love, the love found between friends, and so on. All of these kinds of love are powerful in different ways. The kind of modifier I am going to teach you today, however, will be based on romantic love,” Evariste said.
“Good choice.” Sybilla popped up behind Evariste and Angelique. Melody and Finnr trailed her.
Evariste continued, “Romantic love is the easiest to deal with because it is one of the few kinds of love that will have a defined beginning. Using romantic love to break a curse often means harnessing romantic love at its starting point, and using it to shatter the bonds the curse created.”
Melody clapped her hands. “Like the kiss of a handsome prince!”
“First of all, citing that he must be handsome is small-minded and stupid,” Sybilla said. “Secondly, Evariste said the modifier will be romantic love. Not puppy-like infatuation.”
Melody squawked her outrage, but Finnr snorted under his breath.
Angelique stared at Princess Rosalinda and wondered how on earth a baby was going to find romantic love. Should I ask Master Evariste?
“What are you thinking, Angel?” Evariste asked.
“Princess Rosalinda isn’t even a year old yet. How can we arrange for romantic love to break the curse?” Angelique asked.
“We modify the curse with your gift,” Evariste said. “Anything else?”
Angelique tilted her head. “Is romantic love really that strong?” she asked. “Wouldn’t it be easier to use the love Princess Alessia or the prince consort has for her?”
Evariste squeezed her hand. “You would be surprised how powerful romantic love can be. And I’m afraid using parental love or even familial love is beyond my abilities to teach you right now, and we are on a deadline. Now, when you give your gift to Rosalinda, you must modify the curse—remove the side-effect of death and replace it with something else—and add a way to break it. The two ways I suggest to you are true love’s first kiss, or that she would fall in love with a man, and that he would love her. You’ll want to make your choice based on the side-effect you use to replace death.”
“So it is only words?” Angelique asked hopefully.
“No. You must wield your magic to make your words stick to the curse and change it,” Evariste said.
“Rats,” Angelique muttered.
“You must channel your magic in this method.” Evariste talked Angelique through the process—showing her with his own magic, and occasionally helping her with her own. In only a few short minutes, he declared her ready.
Feeling weighted down with the hopeful stares of the royal family, the few Magic Knights who were assembled, and all gentry—as well as the narrowed gazes of the other magic users—Angelique slowly approached the crib where the king had placed Princess Rosalinda.
She licked her lips and steeled her spine so she wouldn’t shiver, even though a cold sweat swept across her. “By her eighteenth birthday, Princess Rosalinda will indeed prick her finger on the spindle of a spinning wheel, but she will not die.” Angelique paused, her heart squeezing painfully when she felt her magic—agile and sharp—channel across her fingertips in a silvery haze that was deceivingly pretty. “Instead, she will fall into a deep sleep, and she will wake up only when her true love kisses her.”
Angelique sucked air between her clenched teeth when her magic drifted down and brushed the sleeping princess like tufts of dandelion fluff. A droplet of sweat dripped down her temple as she forced her destructive magic to work with gentleness. She kept a tight grip on it as her powers settled delicately across the princess, flickering brighter when it brushed a red tendril of Carabosso’s magic.
She grimaced as she used her magic to worm between the pieces of his oily powers. His magic resisted, and Angelique’s silvery magic flared, cutting straight through it in spite of its resistance. Her heart stopped as she yanked on her magic, reeling it back under her control, but the princess blissfully slept on. Angelique could feel the change in the tiny princess’s curse deep in her bones.
She exhaled and took a shaky step. It was over. She had successfully modified the curse without harming Rosalinda. She leaned against the cradle and wondered if hanging her head would reflect shamefully on Evariste.
“That’s your solution—a deep sleep?” King Giuseppe rumbled.
“It wa
s well done.” Evariste knit his hands together as he joined Angelique at the crib. “It will do the least harm to the princess, and it limits the risk that the curse could still kill her.”
King Giuseppe frowned, but Princess Alessia was pink with relief. “Thank you! She can survive this; I know it.”
Prince Consort Filippo took one of his wife’s hands. “And we will do everything we can to see that the curse does not come true.”
“I would not count too heavily on your own efforts, but it would be wise to make certain the princess does not have direct access to any spinning wheels,” Evariste said.
Angelique rubbed her souring stomach and leaned more heavily on the crib to keep from tottering. When Evariste held her elbow to support her, she smiled up at him in thankfulness.
“Please keep us informed,” Evariste said. “Princess Rosalinda is now tied to Angelique—and by extension, myself. She will be our responsibility.”
Princess Alessia retrieved the baby from her crib. “Thank you, Lord Enchanter—and Lady Enchantress.”
“Enchantress-in-training,” Angelique said—though she almost swayed on her feet. The curse modification hadn’t used much of her power, but it required a huge amount of control—something she had a terribly short supply of.
“If you’ll excuse our early departure, I believe my apprentice and I should return home. We’ll be in touch.” Evariste nodded to the royal family of Sole, then swept an arm—and his cloak—around Angelique, supporting her as they retreated from the hall.
Sybilla waved to them, but the four other magic users watched without emotion as they left.
“The modification was quite smooth.” Evariste said as they followed the red velvet carpet to the castle entrance. “It would have been beyond any other apprentice so early in their schooling. All of them would have fumbled it, and most would have reached the end of their magic. But you proved yourself worthy today.”
As they left the castle and stepped out into the frigid winter air, Angelique wanted to snort. The only thing she had proved was that it was going to take a lot of concentration for her to do any kind of magic not related to her core powers without risking killing someone. I feel sick. I want to sleep. Though she felt awful, she held her tongue. Evariste was a kind and gentle man—barely older than her—but she wanted him to like her, she wanted to make sure he never regretted choosing her as his apprentice. She would suffer being sick in silence if it made her rise in his esteem.
“I can’t open a gate—even if Carabosso left, it is still too risky. But I’ll do the next best thing and whistle Pegasus down from the sky. He’ll get us home in a flash,” Evariste continued. He nudged her against his side with the arm that supported her as a few snowflakes twirled through the air. “You did well, Angel.”
And that is all I ever want. Satisfied, Angelique closed her eyes and waited for Evariste to summon Pegasus. At the back of her mind, though, worry stirred for Princess Rosalinda and her cloudy future. Though Angelique had managed to take the sting out of the curse, she highly doubted the princess was out of danger yet. If Carabosso had felt spiteful enough to curse her, it was unlikely he was going to let her off so easily.
I hope she’s strong enough to survive whatever difficulties he brings down upon her…
Months passed, and Angelique’s worries proved to be grounded. Inexplicably, Princess Alessia, Prince Consort Filippo, and the servants assigned to Princess Rosalinda would find spindles hidden amongst her toys and folded inside the blankets of her cradle.
Under King Giuseppe’s orders, the Magic Knights of Sole closely questioned all the servants, but they were unable to find the culprits.
When the princess turned two, her parents and grandfather decided it would be safest for her if she were sent away from the palace, raised in secret as a normal peasant girl.
Princess Rosalinda—now called Briar Rose—grew up happy and healthy under the watch of an old palace guard and his wife. But there was an unfortunate side-effect of her protective pastoral life. Briar Rose, never guessing her noble birth, grew vastly different from her royal family…
Chapter 2
Briar Rose
“In the middle of my travels, I was forced to kill a band of goblins—single-handedly!”
Briar tilted her head invitingly, and slightly widened her eyes—trying to appear interested. “Incredible—what overwhelming odds!”
Her companion was a handsome young man who had dark hair and dark eyes and—more importantly—wore a white linen shirt with a fitted vest of red brocade, black trousers, and shiny black boots.
With clothes like that, his income had to be on par with a baron—possibly a count. He was from Erlauf—citizens of Erlauf had a slightly harsher accent that emphasized sharp consonants—but she wasn’t opposed to a change of countries if things panned out.
The young man rolled his shoulders back. “It was a difficult fight, but I have been trained by the best.”
Suspecting her companion was one who liked to be admired, Briar said, “But to defeat such numbers, you must have natural talent as well!”
She was rewarded with a bright smile. “It was nothing, really. I come from a family of military strategists.”
Yes! Erlauf was known for its military. If this young man’s family was involved in the military, he was at least moderately wealthy. Briar tucked a lock of her chestnut hair behind her ear and smiled. “How fascinating! Are you on a mission for your family, then?”
“Yes,” he dragged the word out, and Briar could tell by the light in his eyes he was slanting the truth to make him look better. “I’m here with the Erlauf military force, scouting the border for goblins.”
Genuinely confused, Briar quirked one eyebrow. “But the border Sole shares with Erlauf is quite far from here.”
“Yes,” he admitted. “But I have come to deliver a message to King Giuseppe.”
Briar almost clapped her hands in glee. He had to be important if he was being sent to speak to the King of Sole. Now if she could just persuade him to fall in love with and marry her…
He leaned in and whispered in a conspirator’s tone, “You see, I am actually Prince Johann, the second son of Queen Freja and Commander Lehn.”
Briar’s interest evaporated faster than a puddle on a hot day. “Is that so?” she said, holding in a groan.
Prince Johann frowned slightly. “Yes—if you do not believe me I can prove it. I have my family crest with me.”
Briar scratched her stomach and eyed the woods, choosing her escape route. “No, no. I absolutely believe you. Good luck with your mission, Your Highness. I wish you well in King Giuseppe’s court. If you’ll excuse me, I think I hear my cow mooing.”
“But, wait! I—”
Briar waved to the young prince and hurried through the forest, skirting bushes, shrubbery, and large rocks. “A blasted prince!” she grumbled when she was certain she was far enough away that he wouldn’t hear her. “Pah! That’s the last sort of man I want to marry. Why does it seem my plan for an Easy-and-Carefree-Life is eternally on hold due to my inability to meet anyone rich enough to afford me, and foolish enough to wish to marry me?”
For most of her young life, Briar Rose had been foggy about what she wanted to do with her future. It was strange, for neither Nonna nor Nonno—God rest his soul—seemed to have any particular expectations for her. She was seventeen. She had thought by now Nonna, since Nonno had peacefully passed on, would have mentioned something about seeing Briar married or settled into a trade, or anything, really.
But since her foster parents had not given her direction, Briar had mulled over the problem herself. She came up with a solution when she heard the story of how the new Loire princess, Elle, had saved Prince Severin from a horrible curse and got to marry him for her troubles.
Dealing with a curse sounded overly troublesome—as did becoming a princess. Due to her unusually thorough education, Briar was keenly aware that becoming a member of the royal family was the abso
lute worst thing that could happen to her. She didn’t think it was much of a risk, though, as princes were a scarcity in Sole, so she developed her plan for an Easy-and-Carefree-Life.
Nonna was not particularly supportive of her newly minted life goal. But whenever Briar challenged her to come up with a better future, she hemmed and hawed, then bid her to run along and check on the chickens.
Briar jumped a fallen log, expertly making her way through the forest she had grown up in. A brisk walk, and she found her cow—Mouse, an unfortunate victim of Briar’s poor imagination as a child.
She adjusted the leather collar and bell that hung from Mouse’s neck. “Come along, girl. There’s better grazing outside the forest.” She patted the cow’s glossy brown flank and led the way—whistling when Mouse was slow to follow.
Briar guided Mouse to an open meadow just past the forest and kept on walking alone until she reached home—a cozy stone cottage.
Two horses were tied up at a hitch post in the barn, munching on hay. Briar glanced at them, recognized them in an instant, and turned to the cottage with a spring in her step.
“Firra, Donaigh!” she sang as she threw the door open.
The two mages were seated around a wooden table, sipping herbal tea with Nonna.
Donaigh’s unruly blond hair was flat at the top—crimped by the straw hat he parted with only when faced with Nonna’s notions of propriety and manners. “Little Rose! You’ve gotten so big—upsie daisy!” He stood and scooped her up like a child, holding her above his head. Though he was tall and stick-like, he had a surprising amount of strength.
Briar—used to the unusual greeting—tilted her head to the side to avoid a wooden ceiling beam. “Donaigh!”
Nonna pressed her lips together in disapproval. “She hasn’t gotten any bigger than when you saw her last week. Now place Briar Rose down this instant. Briar—do not encourage him!”
Donaigh put Briar down, though he still cuddled her like a cat. “Now, now, Briar. The more you grow, the more expensive your gowns will be! How taxing that will be on your Nonna’s purse strings. Moreover, what of the Donaigh family motto?”