Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  Queen Faina waited several long moments before groaning again—this time a sound that was far more feral with pain.

  Evariste peeled an eyelid open. Queen Faina, the mirror is affecting her.

  Before dumping him in this ancient mirror, Liliane had harped on about a “target” that had managed to fight off their efforts.

  It likely was Queen Faina—regent of Mullberg on behalf of Princess Snow White.

  He hadn’t been able to see much—the mirror’s surface seemed to have a foggy film over it most of the time that made it difficult to see more than smeared shapes. But he had heard Princess Snow White voice concern for the queen’s health on several occasions.

  Another wave of pain rolled through Evariste, striking so deeply he knew nothing but suffering—he couldn’t even think, the sensation was so intense.

  He rolled onto his back and tried to breathe through his mouth to block out the smells, but he could practically taste the metallic tang of blood, and the smokey smell was so thick, it dried out his mouth and made his throat crack.

  A few moments later, a muffled groan again pierced the cloudy fog of the mirror.

  Evariste managed to boost himself to his feet and trudged up to the mirror’s surface. He had to lean against it for support, planting his forehead against it.

  He couldn’t make out the queen through the haze of magic in which the mirror wrapped itself. But he recognized the blurred lines of her canopy bed, and he assumed the rumpled pile splayed upon it was her.

  A pang of sympathy pulsed in Evariste’s previously-numb chest. She’s been fighting the mirror’s influence for so long. It’s only really since the mirror started feeding off my magic that it has made progress in crushing her.

  Evariste panted in pain as he leaned his back against the mirror’s surface and slid down the smooth wall, his legs collapsing in on him.

  “Do you think to help her? As if you could be the hero you once pretended to be when you are so weakened you cannot control your own body.”

  The mirror whispered deep in Evariste’s mind, but he brushed it off again.

  The sentient artifact was able to reach him no matter how he blocked it out. Neither clasping his hands over his ears or trying to talk over it did much. But Evariste had grown extraordinarily skilled at ignoring it.

  It was easy to disregard when he was in so much pain he couldn’t breathe, after all.

  “You may love another, but you’re not worthy of anything in return. How could you ever hope to match her with your petty pride and weak will?”

  Evariste openly rolled his eyes and twisted his head uncomfortably so he could peer over his shoulder at the smudgy shapes of Queen Faina’s bedroom.

  Angelique was a soft spot within him that the mirror had tried using against him before.

  “Unfortunately for you, I already know she’s not in love with me.” Evariste’s voice was hoarse, and his throat felt grated. “Knowing that is hardly going to hurt my feelings. Now cry off—or evolve past goblin-level taunts.”

  The mirror’s sulky whispers faded, blending into the queen’s pained groans.

  The added pleasure of ignoring hissed whispers was that it seemed to displease the mirror. Evariste had learned when stuck in the cave the Chosen were holed up in to take his wins no matter how petty they were. He had even fewer chances of winning while slowly getting his magic sucked out of him. He felt as if his soul was slowly flaking away into nothing, so it was best to fully embrace the moments he did win.

  Outside the mirror, Faina sucked in a pained breath, and Evariste was fairly certain the rattle to her gasp was because she was crying.

  Evariste closed his eyes as all the pain made the brown-red innards of the mirror swirl in sickness-inducing patterns.

  I am a Lord Enchanter—even though I’m stuck in a mirror. It will always be my duty to protect the innocent.

  Evariste believed that with every inch of his heart. But guessing what would happen, he hesitated—only for a heartbeat—and then closed his eyes as he felt for his magic.

  He smacked into the wall that cut him off from his own powers. Long ago, Liliane had placed a curse on him. It magically cut him off from his magic and could only be removed if he gave into the darkest desire of his heart.

  Fortunately, his darkest desire was only to kiss the protests out of Angelique and tell her he loved her.

  Unfortunately, that meant he couldn’t break the curse without her, and if he ever gave into the whim, she was likely to brain him upside the head and never speak to him again. His feelings could ruin her. If word got out that Lord Enchanter Evariste had flirted with his student, Angelique—always and unfairly in disgrace among magekind due to her incredibly powerful magic—would be the one to pay the price.

  And she’d never forgive him—rightfully so.

  But while Evariste couldn’t reach his magic, he’d learned—painfully so—in the past few weeks that he could at least make it more difficult for the mirror to drain him. And in doing that, it made it more difficult for the mirror to claw its way into Queen Faina’s mind.

  He took a deep breath, swallowing down the burning sensation at the back of his throat, and then mentally leaned into the wall that cut him off from his powers. Using his mind, he blocked a portion of the wellspring of his magic, making it harder for the mirror to access.

  The pain—which had already been beyond what he could endure—spiked, and Evariste wheezed as it relentlessly wracked through his body.

  His muscles gave out, and he collapsed on the ground, his vision swimming and his ears ringing as the mirror ruthlessly dredged through his body, forcibly dragging the magic out of him.

  But Evariste didn’t stop trying to hold his magic back. And as jagged pain shot up his limbs, he could only produce one fleeting thought: Please. Someone, please help me.

  Chapter 3

  That night Angelique slept better than she had in weeks, so she was feeling remarkably jolly as she prepared to return to Farset.

  She grabbed another cloak from her bedroom wardrobe to cover her eye-catching dress and briefly considered changing outfits entirely. Somehow that felt like it may be giving up, so after using a spell to clean the gown, she put it back on.

  She tossed her cloak over her shoulders and made her way to the staircase, making tracks for the sitting room (where she could crawl through the window, again), when she felt a pulse of portal magic ooze from Evariste’s room.

  Frowning, Angelique backtracked and warily nudged the door open to Evariste’s bedroom, her silvery magic swirling at her feet.

  A man with copper-colored hair and streaks of silver at his temples stood in Evariste’s room. His feet were braced on the gold frame of the only free-standing portal in Evariste’s quarters—the gate that led directly to his office in the Veneno Conclave—and he appeared to be trying to yank something through the portal, which flickered and shed a few sparks of magic.

  Angelique relaxed, recognizing the tall man. “Lord Enchanter Clovicus?”

  “I’ll be just a moment, Angelique.” Clovicus grunted and succeeded in dragging an arm into Evariste’s room. “The portal seems persnickety today.”

  Magic crackled across the gateway, making it impossible to see Evariste’s office on the other side. Abruptly, a young man emerged from the gate, flopping into the house.

  Clovicus dodged the young man, so the poor soul hit the wooden floor with an audible crack.

  “Ow.” The abused male peeled his face off the floor. “Lord Enchanter, you promised that the teleportation magic wouldn’t hurt.” He propped himself up on his elbows, then smiled brightly when he saw Angelique. “Hello there, Lady Enchantress!” He nonchalantly waved to her, then hopped to his feet. “You look—” He was cut off with a choking sound when Clovicus grabbed him by the neck of his robe and yanked him backwards.

  “Manners, manners, manners,” Clovicus clicked in irritation. “What are your teachers doing if you don’t even know to wait for your betters to e
xchange greetings first?”

  “They did teach me that,” the young man confirmed. “But you told me I should rebel against society.”

  “Yes, well, you shouldn’t rebel when it’s inconvenient for me,” Clovicus said.

  The young man grinned. “I understand, Master Clovicus.”

  “I am not your master,” Clovicus stressed. “You were a convenient tool of escape. Now be a good child and be quiet—and don’t touch anything.”

  “Okay, Instructor Clovicus!”

  Clovicus pinched the bridge of his nose. “What did I just say?”

  The young man grinned. “Sorry, Lord Enchanter.”

  It took a moment for Angelique to recognize the lad as one of the students Clovicus had been forced to temporarily teach a year ago. He had grown a little since then, but he still had his easy-going manners and carefree smile.

  “It’s good to see you, Lord Enchanter Clovicus.” Angelique looked curiously from Clovicus, to the student, and back again.

  Clovicus inhaled deeply and rolled his shoulders back. “Yes, hello, Angelique. I apologize for the unexpected intrusion, but I felt we needed to talk. Might we sit down?”

  Angelique bowed her head. “Certainly. The sitting room is this way.”

  She led the pair out of Evariste’s bedroom, down the stairs, and trooped through the hallway to the front sitting room—which also contained the windows to Farset and Baris.

  Clovicus paused at the front door. “Ahh, perfect. Here, you impetuous cub. Go play outside.” He opened the door and motioned for the gangly student to step outside.

  The smiley student blinked. “Do I have to? Since you gave Wallace the slip, you must have something interesting to talk about!”

  “Out!” Clovicus pushed him out and firmly shut the door behind him.

  When Angelique raised an eyebrow, Clovicus sighed. “I wanted to speak to you without the knowledge of the Veneno Conclave. I used him as an excuse to leave my office without the supervision of my busy-body assistant.”

  “Wallace, right?” Angelique asked. “He is one of Councilmember Crest’s men?” She stepped into the sitting room and took a seat in a straight-backed armchair.

  “Indeed, he is.” Clovicus followed her into the sitting room, although he remained standing and peered through the front windows, watching the student approach the ducks sitting at the edge of the pond. “Which is precisely why I didn’t want Wallace knowing I was coming to talk with you, or the entire Veneno Conclave Council was sure to hear about it.”

  Angelique set her hands in her lap. “How did you know I was home?”

  “I’ve been glancing in Evariste’s office to check on the portal, hoping to catch you. Last night I saw a light creeping under the crack at the bottom of Evariste’s bedroom door. When I arrived at my office this morning, I was looking to manufacture an excuse to escape Wallace, and I happened upon Grandmaster Intellect out there.”

  The happy-go-lucky student crouched down next to the ducks. Unfortunately for him, the ducks didn’t take kindly to the invasion, and they started pecking at his legs.

  He leaped to his feet and ran across the lawn, three ducks waddling after him and beating their wings.

  “Tristisim has stuck me with that guppy out there and his motley crew for two additional fieldtrips. As such, Wallace didn’t get too suspicious when I said he was in need of mentoring.” Clovicus watched, his brow furrowing as the student evaded the ducks long enough for them to settle down.

  That was when the student caught sight of the porcupine eating bark off a stack of logs and set off to investigate the animal.

  “You know,” Clovicus said conversationally. “I truly think he might be an idiot.”

  Angelique watched with apparently more concern for the lad’s safety than the Lord Enchanter. “Is it safe to leave him out there?”

  Clovicus shrugged. “Nonsense! This is mentoring at its finest—we are allowing him to learn the law of cause and effect.”

  “If you say so.” Angelique watched doubtfully for a moment longer before she shifted her gaze to Clovicus. “Has the Conclave caught Carabosso again?”

  Clovicus winced. “Ahh, yes. Back to our necessary conversation. They have not.” He finally eased himself down onto the settee next to Angelique and picked at some of the purple embroidery on his pristine white robes. “They have been searching, though. The Council dispatched multiple teams of extremely skilled mages to search for him. It seems they’re finally aware that the Conclave might not recover its reputation if they don’t get something right soon.”

  “Have they at least been able to find a lead?” Angelique asked.

  Clovicus shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Carabosso has disappeared without a trace. I suspect he slipped off to whatever secret base the Chosen have built because even the most advanced tracking spells can’t locate him. It’s like Evariste’s disappearance all over again.”

  Angelique shut her eyes and wished she could shut out the disappointment and heartbreak as easily.

  I have to hold it together. This is an important conversation. I can’t let myself be overwhelmed right now.

  She cleared her throat and forced her eyes to open so she could calmly meet Clovicus’ gaze. “It’s possible Carabosso might have had a spell that contained some of Evariste’s magic that let him use a transportation gate to go straight to their base.”

  “That’s right—I got your letter about the second attack from that knife-wielding black mage,” Clovicus said.

  After the attack—or more correctly, after she’d stopped shaking from adrenaline and disappointment—Angelique had sent messages out to Lord Enchanter Clovicus, Prince Severin of Loire who was the organizer behind the alliance of countries that was moving to oppose the Chosen, and Fairy Godmother Sybilla—a kind mage Angelique had met through her association with Evariste.

  Clovicus continued, “You said he used portal magic to escape?”

  “Yes.”

  Clovicus sighed. “That’s going to make tracking Carabosso nearly impossible. Sole is livid—rightfully so. The only thing that has allowed us to save face with them is that you haven’t rescinded your orders for Mage Firra and Mage Donaigh, so they have remained with the royal family. Well done in that venture, by the way.”

  Angelique shrugged. “I wasn’t trying to cover for any potential trouble. Actually, until this mess with the Chosen is over, I have no plans to rescind my orders ever. If I did, the Veneno Conclave would no doubt demand Firra and Donaigh return and cloister themselves with the rest of the magic users who are low enough on the chain of command they can be bossed around, and I can’t lose them.”

  Clovicus tapped his fingers on the arm of the settee. “A likely outcome.”

  Angelique squeezed her hands together. “Is there anything I can do to help find Carabosso?”

  “I joined the initial search, but it was to no avail.” Clovicus sighed. “I think he has gone underground. I imagine our next best move is to try and capture any black mage we can possibly find.”

  Angelique frowned as she listened to the Lord Enchanter. I guess this only proves how awful it was that I let the black mage get away. If only I had reacted faster! But overpowering him required the use of my core magic…

  Angelique shivered.

  She hated her core magic. She hated using it, and she feared that—given it gave her power over anything with a sharp edge, whether it was rock, glass, or most commonly a forged weapon—it reflected badly on who she was as a person.

  She was greatly feared by other magic users because of her magic, but she wouldn’t have been quite as reluctant to bring it out if she had known Carabosso was going to escape, leaving her without a lead to Evariste. Again.

  “Irritatingly, I haven’t been able to sniff out any Chosen spies hiding among our ranks,” Clovicus scowled. “I spoke with Lovelana recently—she hasn’t had any luck either.”

  Lovelana was the enchantress charged by the Veneno Conclave to find Evariste
. Unfortunately, she’d made no progress—besides discovering that there was almost certainly a Chosen spy among the Conclave forces.

  “But you agree with her that there is a spy?” Angelique asked.

  “Yes,” Clovicus said. “There’s too much evidence for one—or more—Chosen minions running around the Conclave. I’d prioritize finding them, but it seems like the Conclave is plenty incompetent even without the Chosen’s mucking about given how Carabosso so easily escaped.”

  A yelp pierced the air.

  Angelique stood and saw Clovicus’ smiling student hopping around the yard, flapping his left hand, which had three porcupine quills sticking out of it.

  Clovicus remained seated, but he sat a little taller so he could see his student out the window. “Ah. He got a bit too inquisitive, I see. And to this young mind, the Luxi-Domus is teaching dangerous and potent magic. That won’t end poorly.”

  “Shouldn’t we go help him?”

  “He’s fine.” Clovicus looked Angelique over from head to toe. “I am far more concerned about you.”

  “Me?” Angelique blinked in surprise. “Why?”

  “You fought a black mage while protecting bystanders. That’s a tough order.”

  “I wasn’t seriously injured in the fight,” Angelique said.

  Clovicus narrowed his eyes. “As I can see. How did you beat him back?”

  Angelique couldn’t hold in her wince.

  “Ahh.” Clovicus nodded knowingly. “Sit down, Angelique.” He patted the cushion next to him in an invitation.

  Instantly Angelique’s hackles rose. “You want me to do something.”

  “What?”

  “There’s something you want me to do,” Angelique predicted.

  Clovicus furrowed his brow. “No.”

  “I don’t believe you. Everyone wants me to do something for them.” Angelique suspiciously eyed the older enchanter.

  “No. I merely wish to comfort you since I know how you dislike using your core magic,” he calmly said. “For land’s sake, we have overworked you too much,” he added under his breath.