by K. M. Shea
Ahhh, yes, there we go.
“How your kind words warm me,” Angelique snarled. “You just want me around because you’re hoping I can help.”
“You’re an enchantress,” Themerysaldi said.
“In training!” Angelique shot back.
“That’s a load of bosh. You could have become one years ago based on your power alone.”
Angelique narrowed her eyes to small slits as she glared at the Elf King. Why does Evariste like him? He’s insufferable! I mean, I understand that Evariste is gracious and kind to a fault, but he should have his limits!
Quinn, proving her saint-like qualities once more—set a hand on the bossy elf’s arm. “Don’t push her.”
Themerysaldi maneuvered his arm so he held Quinn’s hand, then he pointedly faced his mask at Angelique.
Not at all in the mood to play, Angelique scowled. “What do you want?”
Themerysaldi pointedly looked down at his hand holding Quinn’s.
Ugh. I forgot—he’s completely taken with her. Of course. Goblins stand on your border but forget that—let’s fall in love! I swear, for being an elf, he lacks a lot of their wisdom.
Angelique rested her chin on her fist and didn’t care if she looked like a scowling grandmother. “Am I supposed to approve of your relationship in Lord Enchanter Evariste’s absence? Congratulations, you’re very—very—lucky she’s willing to put up with you.”
Quinn’s eyes nearly popped out of her head, showing that the Elf King was not so lucky that the object of his affection was also insane enough to prioritize romance in a time of dire need.
Good for her!
“W-what?” Quinn stammered.
Themerysaldi puffed up like a cat. “T-that’s not what I meant!” He swiveled to glance at Quinn and judge her reaction.
Hah! Embarrassed is he? Good. He deserves it.
“Oh, you’re still in that stage where neither of you have confessed yet. How cute,” Angelique rolled her eyes and sipped her tea—even cool, it still tasted delicious. “If I didn’t know better, I would swear there was some kind of love blessing on this generation. Everyone is getting married and falling in love in situations that, frankly, I don’t think are at all romantic—much less logical!”
Themerysaldi leaned over and whispered to Quinn, “Angelique has never had any special feelings for anyone.”
Angelique ignored his stupid observation and continued to ramble. “Who has time to flirt and giggle when you’re running for your life?”
“It always made me feel sorry for Evariste,” Themerysaldi said. “Poor man constantly tried to convince her romantic love was a valid and special thing.”
Angelique scowled into her teacup and vaguely wondered if there was anyone responsible for the mass amount of twitterpation that had struck. If so, she’d like to have a word with them. Several strong words. “I swear, if I have to deal with one more curse that involves true love, I’m going to scream.”
“I see…” Quinn blushed deeply at the Elf King, then awkwardly turned her attention to Angelique. “So, Angelique, will you help us?”
Feeling like she was a hundred years old, Angelique sighed and set her teacup down. “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.”
“Thank you, Angelique,” Themerysaldi said with a shocking amount of sincerity.
“I’m not using my core magic,” Angelique warned.
“Just being here is enough.”
Quinn shifted in her armchair. “If you’ll excuse me asking, but what do you mean by core magic?”
“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.
Angelique struggled to hold a neutral expression. “Correct.”
“I see.” Quinn glanced at Themerysaldi, then quickly looked away when she realized the Elf King was already facing her.
Ugh. Young love.
Angelique would have rolled her eyes, but she liked Quinn enough to contain her jaded attitude. For the moment, anyway.
“Will you remain here, in Sideralis, tonight while the rest of us attend the…celebration?” Themerysaldi 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. Hmm. That’s an interesting observation. “It’s possible. He has a much greater understanding of casted spells and curses—like this one.”
Emerys grimly shook his head.
Angelique frowned, puzzled and surprised. “That’s not why?”
A strangled growl erupted from Emerys throat.
“I see. I’ll try to ponder why he would make a difference then.” Angelique swiped her teacup and leaned back in her chair.
Was his magic used to cast the curse? We already know the Chosen have been milking him for his magic…
Angelique slightly shook her head, then forced her attention back to the conversation. “In the meantime, I wish you luck with your endeavors tonight, Quinn.”
“Thank you, Lady Enchantress,” Quinn said.
“Angelique,” she insisted.
Quinn smiled. “Angelique.”
“You’ll need to take extra care, Quinn,” Themerysaldi 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,” Themerysaldi pointed out.
“True.” Angelique frowned at the giant window. “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.”
And many are too helpless to do anything besides fret.
“You aren’t afraid,” Quinn said.
Angelique grinned at the compliment. “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.”
Themerysaldi 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.”
Chapter 5
Angelique sat outside, enjoying the exquisite quiet of Sideralis as she stared up at the biggest patch of sky she could spy through the trees.
There was something empty and a little lonely about it. The elven city was always a peaceful place, but it was usually warm and filled with the quiet hum of conversation
and laughter.
Now, it was silent. Angelique was the only living soul in the city—Themerysaldi and all the elves had left for their nightly, curse-required party.
If Themerysaldi’s reaction is anything to go by, Evariste must have something to do with the curse. The black mages have proven themselves capable of harvesting his portal magic for their own use. Have they done something similar that allows them to twist his magic for their purposes?
Angelique pressed her cold fingertips into the bags under her eyes and sighed.
I’d say that’s something for Prince Severin and Prince Lucien to puzzle over, but given that they are royals and not mages, they don’t know or understand the particulars of magic. I should try speaking to Sybilla or Clovicus about it.
Angelique stifled a yawn as she again stared up at the visible patch of sky directly above Sideralis, feeling more than a little lost. She didn’t see Pegasus’ constellation, but she wasn’t quite so familiar with the night sky as to know whether or not she’d usually be able to see him from this angle.
Shrugging, she dropped her hands in her lap and dug her fingers into the fabric of her skirt—which had turned a melancholic gray-blue.
She’d found Themerysaldi, and it seemed like the elves would soon be freed if Quinn could figure out the particulars of the curse. But now that she better understood the position the elves were in, she could see Themerysaldi would be occupied trying to establish contact with his generals and the rest of the elven warriors.
Again, the search for Evariste would be pushed back.
She could hardly fault King Themerysaldi—he had his people to think of.
Yet it felt like she’d exhausted every possibility of help for Evariste, and there was nowhere left to turn.
The Veneno Conclave had proven to be useless—it had a spy in its ranks, for Heaven’s sake—and the other countries were as preoccupied as Themerysaldi would be, at least for the time being.
I have to keep looking…but what more can I do alone? Should I go to Lovelana and offer to help find the spy? Maybe then she’d be able to find more black mages if the information leak was stopped. But…I just want Evariste back.
Angelique let her chin fall against her chest. She stared down at the cobblestone road and sighed deeply.
She felt Pegasus press his velveteen muzzle against her cheek, and she patted him, grateful for the comfort. “Thank you, Pegasus.” She paused mid-stroke and jerked her head up.
The flames of his mane and tail and the stardust spattering his coat glowed in the moonlight, making him look more ethereal than normal.
When she stared gape-mouthed at him, he flicked his tail and gave her his version of a friendly nicker—which rumbled like the shakings of the earth.
“I, I didn’t call you…did I?” Angelique bulged her eyes as she reviewed her actions for the past few minutes. “I mean, my sighing and misery might be a bit too self-focused and unhelpful, but I don’t think I was that out of it that I could have called you without realizing it.”
Pegasus delicately took one of her flyaway locks of hair in his teeth and tugged it just enough for her to feel the pressure on her scalp.
Her confusion settled down, and Angelique offered the constellation a shaky smile. “I’m sorry. I’m very happy to see you.” Daringly, she leaned closer to Pegasus and kissed him on his nose—which was as soft as velvet and held the faint whiff of sulfur.
When she straightened, she had to fight a yawn.
Pegasus made another thunderous nicker, then turned away from her and walked across the courtyard. He found a massive fern that was sprouting out of the ground at the corner of the stable and sat down directly on top of it.
He squashed it with his hulking mass, but the persistent plant still curled up around him, creating a sort of green nest. Once he was content, Pegasus shifted his attention to Angelique and flared his nostrils at her.
Angelique rushed across the courtyard and almost threw herself on the large constellation. She flung an arm over his withers and pressed her face into his neck, taking comfort in the heat he radiated.
Snuggling with Pegasus was an experience of comfort and warmth. She didn’t do it often—something in her said she shouldn’t presume to cuddle a constellation at all, but it was too nice to completely deny herself.
“Thanks, Pegasus.”
Pegasus snorted, and between the faint flickers of his mane and the steady whoosh of his breath, he seemed to fill the empty city.
Angelique’s eyes slowly drifted shut, and she relaxed as she finally drifted off to sleep.
An explosion of magic knocked Angelique from her dreamless sleep.
She snorted and poked her head up from the comfortable cradle of constellation and fern. “What? Who?”
Her thoughts rattled around her head—there’d been something familiar about that magic, but she hadn’t awakened quite fast enough to catch the full feel of it.
Pegasus lifted his head high and snorted, testing the air.
Angelique rubbed her eyes and groaned. She started to stand, reluctantly peeling herself off Pegasus, when a wave of magic shoved her to her knees.
This was a different sort of magic. It was fainter but demanding in its presence and as pure as the deepest springs of water.
This magic she recognized—not because she was intimately familiar with it, but because Themerysaldi’s magic was so unmistakable.
“It seems Quinn broke the curse.” Angelique finally managed to stand. “That didn’t take long at all.” She rolled her neck and massaged her stiff muscles then went cross-eyed when a snowflake landed on the tip of her nose.
The courtyard and city had a light dusting of the stuff, but none of it had fallen on her or Pegasus due to the overhang of the stable.
It was colder, but she didn’t feel it—the heat charm in her dress had automatically activated while she slept, and splaying out on Pegasus was like sleeping with an oven anyway.
Behind her, Pegasus scrambled to his feet and shook like a dog.
Angelique rested an arm on his back as she shook off the cobwebs sleep left in her mind. “Wait, that means the elves are free? That’s marvelous!” Angelique laughed and flung her arms around Pegasus’ neck, hopping in place a little as she gleefully hugged him. “This is the best news we’ve gotten in a long time! I’m happy for them—but this is the best news for the continent we’ve gotten since we found out the mirror had been stolen from Verglas! The elves are free!”
Angelique twirled in a dizzying circle—her glee making her light hearted.
For years, the continent had been dealt a terrible hand—so many losses, with Angelique and the royals of the nations scrambling to maintain their lands.
But now…the elves are free! Angelique sagged against Pegasus with her relief.
He nosed her side.
“Even if Themerysaldi can’t help me with Evariste, the return of the elves changes the tides in this battle.” Angelique shut her eyes as she felt some of the weight she’d been carrying for years slip off her shoulders. “Having them join our forces will give us a magical fighting force—something we’ve lacked since the Veneno Conclave has turned chicken. Even if we have to wait a few months for the elves to recover, this is a major win for us. Prince Severin and the others are going to be delighted!”
Pegasus didn’t seem entirely convinced, but he stayed where he was, letting Angelique lean against him.
“At least the elf curse didn’t involve true love or love’s first kiss.” Angelique shivered in revulsion. “I’m so sick of those counter-curses, I could tear my hair out. That’s been the pattern for almost this entire time. Although now that I think of it, based on the timeline of when the elves disappeared, their curse was probably the first one cast.”
Angelique had gone to Themerysaldi as soon as she had confirmed Evariste really was taken. It was a few weeks after the initial attack—because Evariste had shoved her through a portal in the house’s sitting room that opened up in th
e snowy country of Verglas and shut the gate behind her, which meant she had to travel back across the continent to reach the cottage again.
But Prince Severin was the first official curse Angelique had personally witnessed, and he hadn’t been cursed until after the Veneno Conclave had thoroughly investigated the attack and Evariste’s disappearance. And his curse was the first of many that Angelique had found had a weakness against true love counter-curses.
It seems like there is something important about that…
Pegasus pricked his ears, stirring Angelique. “What is it?”
He turned his head to Alabaster Forest.
Curious, Angelique looked with him and was able to pick up the faint thud of pounding hooves.
“Must be a messenger sent to tell me,” Angelique predicted. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation. “I should send word to Clovicus and Prince Severin—we finally have hope again!”
The hoofbeats grew louder, until a creature emerged from the woods.
It was huge—roughly the size of Pegasus—and it was something of a cross between a stag and a horse.
It possessed the noble face and delicate build of a deer, but its body was more equine, and its coat was fuzzy warm fur not unlike a wolf’s. It was black with white socks and gray swirls of magic that moved across its neck, shoulders, and rump.
Angelique recognized it as one of King Themerysaldi’s unusual, magical mounts. She squinted at its back, and sure enough, both the Elf King and Quinn were perched there.
“Angelique!” Themerysaldi shouted, breaking the muffled silence the lightly falling snow created.
His odd mount slowed from a canter to a trot as they entered the edges of Sideralis. “Angelique!”
Angelique grinned as the pair rode closer. “I know, I know. Your curse is broken.” She brushed some snow off her shoulders. “It woke me out of a dead sleep when it shattered. Congratulations!”
She was about to offer to set off some celebratory fireworks or lights or something when she finally recognized that the joyous occasion did not match Themerysaldi’s tense posture.
