Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  “Great. Here, you can use this room. We’ll be waiting for you in the Evergreen Tea Room.” Themerysaldi swung a door open, then scooped up Quinn’s hand and started marching away. “You may shout if you require anything,” he yelled down the hallway.

  Angelique stared at the retreating king, then slipped into the powder room. I can’t hurt him. I need him to find Evariste. Need. Him. Even if I’d like to shake him until his teeth rattle.

  Angelique’s slippers were soft and muffled on the white stone floor. There was a large mirror—which let her see just how scary she looked with her hair half yanked from her braid and her face flecked with dirt.

  The stone basin filled with water that was conveniently placed on a small table with a plush towel tempted her, but Angelique collapsed into an armchair, thumping herself good when the satin pillow placed on the seat proved to be much thinner than estimated. She hit the chair with enough force to jar her spine.

  Angelique grimaced and yanked the ribbon she’d used to tie off her braid free from her wild locks. Still sitting in the chair, she peered at her slumped reflection.

  I don’t think I’m going to get my hair in any kind of braid without using magic. Which feels tedious at the moment.

  Her hair spilled over her shoulders in messy waves, but at least it didn’t look quite so windblown.

  It’s good enough. I don’t care what Themerysaldi thinks of me anymore anyway. I just need his help to find Evariste.

  Angelique peeled herself out of the chair with a groan and staggered over to the basin of water and the soft towel waiting for her.

  The water was icy cold, but Angelique gritted her teeth as she washed her face and actually felt a little better as she wiped her face off with the towel.

  A tap at the door made her turn around.

  “Lady Enchantress?” Lady Alastryn—Themerysaldi’s cousin who had kindly taught Angelique nearly everything she knew about elven culture and customs—stood in the doorway.

  Again, Angelique was assaulted by the strange combination of disconcerting comfort.

  Comfort because even though years had passed and Angelique had seen children grow into adults—like Wybert from Boyne—Alastryn had not aged at all. Her hair and face were the same—Angelique even remembered the hunter green gown she was wearing.

  But the defeat in her eyes was new. The bright elegance that the elven lady had previously exuded in every move she made had dimmed, and her smile wasn’t as big as it had been when Angelique was Evariste’s student.

  “Lady Alastryn, how good it is to see you,” Angelique said.

  Alastryn swept across the powder room at a trot—unusual for the lady who didn’t typically move faster than an elegant walk—and threw her arms around Angelique. “It gladdens my heart to see you, Angelique.”

  Angelique—surprised by Alastryn’s show of affection—stood in shock for a moment before she returned the embrace. “It’s been a terrible few years,” she said. “I hope the cost has not been too high?”

  Alastryn stepped back and shook her head. “It has been wearing upon us. But we have hope. Emerys will tell you all he can—but when he asked me to prepare tea for your visit, I could not wait to see you.” The elven lady looked Angelique up and down as if she couldn’t believe her own eyes. “You’ve changed—you have grown stronger.”

  Angelique uneasily pressed her lips together. “I’ve had many opportunities to practice my magic—more than I would like.”

  Alastryn nodded. “Given…this,” she struggled to speak as she turned in a circle, “I cannot imagine outside our forest has been peaceful. But you deserve to rest—I shall send your favorite tea. Talk with Emerys. He will explain what he can, and by then I will have your regular room cleaned for you.”

  Feeling bold, Angelique took Alastryn’s hand and squeezed it. “Thank you, Alastryn.”

  The elven lady smiled, then slipped from the room as quietly as she had arrived.

  Angelique glanced back at her reflection, taking in her free-spilling hair. It’s not going to get any better, though I should make sure my silver eye color doesn’t peek through and frighten Quinn.

  A twitch of magic and the illusion coloring her eyes was shored up, getting rid of the sharp look in her eyes.

  Satisfied, Angelique marched into the hallway, making her way through the bright palace to the Evergreen Tea Room.

  It was one of Angelique’s favorite tea rooms due to its decor. A massive tapestry of a herd of elven horses mingling with unicorns in the forest claimed most of one wall, while a mural of an evergreen forest was painted on the opposite wall.

  A floor-to-ceiling window shed soft afternoon light on the room. Lanterns made of fogged glass with ironwork melded into stars, and a crescent moon hung from the vaulted ceiling. The room was quiet—like a forest—and smelled faintly of pine needles.

  Themerysaldi and Quinn were already situated—Quinn had chosen a wooden armchair that bore elaborate carvings of evergreen trees in its legs and back, while Themerysaldi lounged on a settee padded with cream-colored pillows.

  “Thank you for waiting.” Angelique followed elven manners and curtsied slightly. She edged around Themerysaldi’s settee and lowered herself into a plush chair covered in green velvet that afforded her a view of the courtyard that sprawled outside the palace, the royal stables, and the massive white trees that encamped around the borders of Sideralis.

  “Tea should be here soon,” Themerysaldi said. “Did Alastryn come find you? She just about had kittens when I told her you were here.”

  “She did,” Angelique said. “It was good to see her. But I’d like to hear about your curse.” She flicked her eyes from Quinn to Themerysaldi. “And it seems there is much to hear.”

  On the walk to Sideralis, Quinn had told Angelique all about her meeting with Themerysaldi—apparently in an effort to outwit the curse, the king used the tiny flicker of magic that hadn’t been blocked from him to shape-shift into a mouse. Like an idiot, he’d accidentally revealed himself to a bunch of goblins, who would have killed him if Quinn hadn’t heard his shrieks and investigated.

  It was a story Angelique dearly wanted to hear in excruciating detail—but it would have to come at a later date. For now, it’s enough to know that because she saved his life, Themerysaldi was able to name Quinn an elf-friend , allowing her to freely come and go from Sideralis.

  “There is much to say,” Themerysaldi said. “Unfortunately, I can’t talk about—” His words cut off, and even though his face was covered by the expressionless white mask, Angelique could feel the frustration rolling off him and saw it in the way he stiffened on the settee.

  “The elves—and those involved in the curse—are unable to discuss its particulars,” Quinn said.

  A timid knock on the door interrupted the conversation before it started. “I beg your pardon, but I have brought the tea.”

  A pretty elf maiden holding a wooden tea tray carved with hearts curtsied a little as she stepped into the room.

  Though her hair was beautifully braided and she possessed the flawless beauty of her kind, there was something about the set of her mouth and the dark smudges under her eyes that made her look tired and defeated—like the elves Angelique had seen in the nearly deserted streets.

  When she looked at Quinn and then Angelique, she rallied, and some of the light lit her gaze as she set the tea tray on a sideboard, then set about preparing individual cups.

  “Lady Alastryn has prepared a brew of herbal blueberry tea, Lady Enchantress Angelique. She told me the way you prefer it.” The elf maiden smiled as she poured tea with the elegance of a dancer into a teacup adorned with green trees and red foxes.

  “Thank you,” Angelique said. “As usual, elven hospitality is to be admired.”

  “I’m afraid we may be rusty—we haven’t had the chance to play host in some years.” The elf maiden added a splash of cream and a maple candy molded in the form of a leaf. She stirred the cup with a gold spoon, then carried it t
o Angelique. “But I hope you enjoy it, and that your stay with us is comfortable and welcoming. We are heartened by your presence.”

  She curtsied deeply after handing Angelique her tea.

  While the handmaiden waited—ignoring her king as she watched Angelique with hopeful eyes—Angelique took a sip of the tea.

  The familiar sweet, creamy taste of the tea was just as delicious as Angelique remembered.

  For a moment, she was lost in her memories: recalling the late nights under the cloudless sky as she laughed with Evariste and ate and drank with their elven hosts; the golden afternoons she’d spend sitting with Alastryn as the elven lady performed a tea ceremony under the boughs of the famous white trees; the cozy winter afternoons she and Evariste spent bundled up in the palace in this very tea room, talking with Themerysaldi and his generals as they drank tea and gorged themselves on treats.

  Angelique blinked, forcing the beautiful and precious memories back down, then smiled at the hopeful elf maiden. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

  She took a moment to rustle through the lessons Alastryn had given her years ago, then added, “Your thoughtfulness—as well as Lady Alastryn’s thoughtfulness—has blessed my heart and lightened my soul.”

  The elf handmaiden’s smile grew, banishing the glimmer of sadness that drooped around her shoulders. “I am so glad.” She retreated to her tea tray and made two more cups, then delivered them to Themerysaldi and Quinn—bowing to her king and curtsying to Quinn with a smile that seemed strangely hopeful.

  Once finished, she picked up her tray and retreated to the door. Angelique waved to her, and then she was gone—nearly soundless as she padded down the hallway.

  Angelique took another sip of her tea and briefly closed her eyes, letting the warmth of the memories lull her for a few glorious moments.

  But when she recalled the last time she’d shared this particular tea—with Evariste, he’d teased her about her determination to get him to stop wasting so much money on buying them matching clothes—Angelique set her shoulders.

  I have work to do—because I’d rather have Evariste with me than sit here and ponder memories.

  Angelique convulsively clutched her tea cup and snapped her eyes open. “So, King Themerysaldi and the elves are unable to talk about their curse—I knew that already. Odette of the Black Swan Smugglers told me so. It was she who mentioned the elves were prisoners in their own woods, unable to leave Alabaster Forest. But what are the particulars? Something to do with masks, maybe?” She glanced at Themerysaldi’s white mask.

  “Emerys is the only elf cursed to wear a mask—I don’t quite know how it factors into the spell. The real bones of the curse are that the elves are forced to celebrate every evening, night after night,” Quinn said. “The twelve daughters of King Dirth were cursed with them—it’s how they wear out their shoes night after night. If a person attends the celebration and eats or drinks any of the food there, they also fall under the curse.”

  “Hmm.” Angelique glanced at Emerys and tugged on her magic. Her cool powers sank into her skin all too easily, and she studied the Elf King, trying to sort through the tangle of a spell that wrapped around him.

  “But I’m afraid that’s only half of the bad news,” Quinn said. “The Farset army has discovered that a huge goblin force has been amassing in the country. They’re closing in around Alabaster Forest.”

  Angelique frowned. “Alabaster has natural defenses that will slaughter any goblin stupid enough to enter it.”

  “Yes.” King Themerysaldi rubbed his thumb on the edge of his teacup. “However, once…it’s broken, the magic holding those defenses together will collapse, and neither I nor any of my people will be in any condition to get our shields back up.”

  “The curse obviously seals your magic, then?” Trying to make sense of the complex swirl of spells that surrounded Themerysaldi, Angelique tried to pick out the line that would cut the elves off from their power.

  Themerysaldi nodded.

  “And all fighting forces—including the elven generals—are outside the woods, cursed to wander,” Quinn added.

  “We’ll be slaughtered,” Themerysaldi said simply.

  Angelique considered her tea as her mind raced with all the new implications.

  Once again, the Chosen are five steps ahead of us. They obviously realize the elves have been discovered and have given up all sense of subtly in an effort to end the elves one way or another.

  She peered at Themerysaldi again, inspecting his curse. And there is something off about this spell. It’s different from the others I’ve encountered, like the one on Severin. It’s not as neatly constructed—it looks like the black mage who cast the spell and the person who provided the power are two different people. I’d hope that would make the spell easier to adjust, but whoever powered it has a lot of magic, and I don’t think I could pry the pieces apart by brute force or even with my core magic.

  Unease swirled in the pit of Angelique’s stomach.

  She knew she wasn’t the most learned enchantress, but she’d gotten fairly good at picking apart Chosen magic. Since this is so foreign, did they use the ancient mirror they took from Verglas to forge it?

  It seemed unlikely. If they managed to use it on the elves, why not use it in all their endeavors?

  “Is Clovicus available?” Themerysaldi asked, breaking Angelique’s thoughts. “Could you send for his help—or the help of any other mages?”

  Angelique shook her head. “Clovicus is being squashed under the Council’s thumb. He finds it difficult to escape, and it seems like someone has been assigned to watch him.”

  Themerysaldi set his teacup down. “What has happened in the Council that they feel the need to watch him?”

  “Ahhh, yes. I unfortunately have some very grim news to share with you.” Angelique drew her shoulders back and then spilled out a shortened version of all that had happened since Evariste’s capture—including the Summit and Prince Severin and Princess Elle’s quest to unite the continent against the Chosen.

  She noticed Themerysaldi didn’t seem surprised by the story of Evariste’s capture—which worried her—but it was hard to tell for certain given his curse-forced mask. But the elves’ news of being unable to help—due to their magic being stolen and the goblins waiting to march on them—depressed Angelique about as much as her news about the Chosen and recent events bothered Themerysaldi.

  Angelique set her teacup down with a quiet clink. “I came here hoping you might be able to help the continent, but it seems that is not possible.”

  “Correct,” Themerysaldi 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 asked, hope briefly flickering in her. If he wasn’t surprised about Evariste being taken, maybe he knows something?

  Themerysaldi shook his head, dashing her hopes. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Angelique sighed as the numbness of disappointment invaded her soul again. “I should have expected as much. But I had hoped…”

  Quinn offered her a half-apologetic smile. “The King and Queen are searching for you.”

  “Seeking my help, no doubt,” Angelique grumbled.

  She cast another annoyed glance at Themerysaldi’s spell—she still hadn’t been able to make any progress in understanding it. “Tell me this. Your curse cannot be broken by true love’s first kiss or by someone falling in love with you, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  Angelique relaxed and picked up her teacup again to sip her now-cool tea. “Good. I thought not.”

  “Can you study his curse and tell us how it can be broken?” Quinn asked.

  Angelique suppressed an eyebrow twitch in her irritation with herself. “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 extended a finger and traced the two different lines of the muddled spell across Themerysaldi. “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 seemed to struggle to try and speak, and in failing to do so, he slammed his fist on the table.

  “I understand your frustration perfectly,” Angelique said dryly. “The dual 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.

  Hmm. There must be something about the casting of this curse. Themerysaldi is powerful. He wouldn’t have been beaten easily. I suppose if he couldn’t beat the black mage that cast this, I wouldn’t stand a chance, but that doesn’t seem to be what he’s implying.

  Quinn cleared her throat and smiled a little when Angelique yanked her gaze toward her. “Tonight, my band and I are to follow the princesses for the last time. Tomorrow, I’m bringing some military officers here to meet with Emerys and the humans stranded here. Will you join us?”

  A sigh leaked out of Angelique, and she glumly stared at her teacup. I’ve wandered into another catastrophe when I was hoping to get help. Instead, this is going to be like every other season that has passed since Evariste was taken, and I will end up having to put my search for Evariste aside in order to help the continent.

  That Evariste would approve of such priorities didn’t make the knowledge any easier.

  “You should stay here for a few days at the minimum, Angelique,” Themerysaldi said, being thoughtful and perhaps even kind to Angelique for the first time in his life. “You look awful,” he sincerely added.