Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

“I did as well,” said another worried voice.

  The pain dulled enough that Angelique was able to unhunch her shoulders and glance at Quinn.

  The soldier was white as the fallen snow and cradled in Themerysaldi’s lap as the Elf King pressed the cloth to her shoulder.

  She looks terrible.

  Sweat dripped down the back of Angelique’s neck, and she could feel the uncomfortable stretching sensation in her stomach that hinted another round of retching would soon be on her.

  Angelique hastily threw together the most slap-dash healing spell she’d ever made and slapped it on Quinn.

  “Slow-burn healing spell,” Angelique panted. “Should help—”

  She broke off in another retch, choking as she had nothing more in her stomach to bring up.

  “Thank you.” The relief in Themerysaldi’s voice was stark. “Thank you,” he repeated.

  Angelique grunted and considered shoveling a handful of snow into her mouth.

  “Lady Enchantress, how long will you be sick?” Lady Alastryn asked.

  “Varies,” Angelique managed to say as she started shivering. The pain in her guts was almost gone, and the shaky feeling her price usually left behind was starting to invade her bones—which was a little confusing.

  The first time Angelique had used her war magic, she’d been bedridden for days. But since then, it seemed like every time she used enough of her powers to set off her price, the amount of time she’d been sick had rapidly decreased.

  I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

  Her stomach rolled again, and a whimper escaped her throat. “I just want to sleep,” she muttered.

  “What is—oh.” Alastryn’s hand disappeared from Angelique’s back, and for one horrible moment, Angelique felt only cold and miserable.

  And then a warm, comfortable, and familiar presence settled at her side.

  Pegasus.

  Angelique didn’t even have to open her eyes. She inched her way over to the constellation like a worm and wriggled onto his back.

  When Pegasus started to stand, Alastryn again placed a hand on Angelique’s back. “Rest, Lady Enchantress. We will accompany you back to Sideralis and see you to your quarters.”

  One last retch rocked through Angelique’s body, making her curl on Pegasus’ back. When it left, Angelique pressed her cheek against Pegasus’ neck, her teeth chattering as she tried to soak up his warmth.

  “Thank you, Pegasus,” she whispered.

  Pegasus snorted, a movement that made all the muscles in his body ripple, then started to walk.

  Angelique opened her eyes and almost smiled at him—until her eyes landed on the carnage she and her magic had wreaked upon the goblins.

  The metallic scent of blood combined with the regular rot-like scent of goblins was enough to make Angelique’s innards clench again.

  She moaned, then turned and pressed her face into Pegasus’ mane.

  But as the constellation left the battlefield, one shining thought crept through Angelique’s mind.

  I thought slaying an entire army—spilling blood like this—would ruin my soul…but I don’t feel any different. Is that because I’m already so twisted I can’t sense the change, or because I’ll just slowly lose myself more and more as I come to use my magic? Or…maybe…was I wrong?

  By the time Angelique and the elves made their way back to Sideralis, Angelique was feeling better.

  Her stomach was still rolling, but the gnawing ache of her intestines had faded entirely, and she was fairly certain she no longer had to fear being sick.

  Angelique slipped off Pegasus’ back, staggering when she hit the ground.

  “Hold her.” Themerysaldi’s voice was tight with strain as he passed Quinn down to two elves, who cradled her while the king dismounted.

  Despite Angelique’s slow-burn healing spell, Quinn was still deadly pale, and she hadn’t stirred on the ride back.

  “I have a craftmage potion!” Alastryn—elegant and always poised—grabbed her skirts with one hand and hitched them up past her ankles as she ran across the snowy courtyard, clutching two bottles of colorful liquid.

  Themerysaldi took Quinn back as Alastryn unscrewed one of the potion bottles and poured some of the liquid on the soldier’s shoulder.

  Elves flocked around Quinn and King Themerysaldi—their concern apparent.

  They still don’t have magic, Angelique realized as she watched the king carefully start walking across the courtyard, heading for his castle. Or they would have used healing magic—even if they had just a spark of it.

  Angelique pressed her lips in a grim line.

  The elves being freed from their curse was still the best event the continent could have hoped for, but she was coming to realize that they were still paying a terrible price for their curse, and it was going to be a while before they were in fighting condition.

  “Lady Enchantress?”

  Angelique blinked and rested her hand on Pegasus’ neck as the kind elf maiden that had served her tea—the one she’d seen on the battlefield—trotted through the swirling chaos of the courtyard, carrying a corked glass bottle that contained an amber liquid. She dodged a group of returning elves that clattered into the castle courtyard on horseback, ducked around an elf carrying bandages that was scurrying after Themerysaldi, and flitted past a pair of elves that were carefully refilling empty arrow quivers.

  “Here, please drink this.” The elf maiden bowed her head and held out the bottle. “This is a ginger-based tonic—it should help your stomach.”

  “Thank you.” Angelique took the bottle and glanced back at Themerysaldi—who was carefully holding Quinn.

  “What else can I get you?” the elf maiden asked. “Do you wish for refreshments?”

  Angelique uncorked the bottle and took a swig of the brew—grateful the sharp taste of ginger washed away the rancid aftertaste of her price. “I’m fine—but thank you for thinking of me.” Angelique offered the elf maiden a smile, then slowly followed Themerysaldi, stopping every few feet to take another slug of the ginger drink—which settled her stomach the more she drank.

  “Has anyone recovered enough to make a healing spell?” Themerysaldi asked as he carried Quinn up the steps and into the eaves of the castle.

  “Not that I’ve found, but I’ll put another call out,” Alastryn grimly asked. “Where are you taking her?”

  “To my bedroom.”

  “Understood. I’ll see what other supplies we have—but I fear we’ve almost entirely run out of potions since we’ve been unable to restore our supplies.” Alastryn swiveled around and dashed up a different hallway.

  Angelique silently followed behind the king as he tensely asked the retinue of elves chasing after him for additional supplies.

  By the time he reached the room, only Angelique, the unconscious Quinn, and Themerysaldi remained.

  He settled Quinn in his bed, carefully easing her down on the silken sheets as he took care not to jar her injured shoulder.

  It took Angelique a few moments to recognize the hardened expression on the Elf King’s face as fright—his fingers were almost white with strain as he yanked blankets up around Quinn. The creases around the corners of his eyes were deep.

  He’s worried.

  Angelique finished off her ginger drink and was feeling remarkably better—well enough, in fact, to be snarky. “Hold this.” She chucked the empty bottle at the Elf King, then gracelessly plopped down on his bed and dragged herself across the covers so she sat next to Quinn.

  When the Elf King wordlessly held the bottle, turning it endlessly over in his hands instead of saying something sarcastic and annoying as she had expected, Angelique knew without a shadow of a doubt that the proud Themerysaldi had lost his heart to Quinn.

  Angelique gathered a silvery healing spell at her fingertips—this one stronger than the patch-job she’d done out on the battlefield—and slowly poured the magic onto Quinn’s shoulder. “She’s going to heal just fin
e.”

  “She doesn’t look fine,” Themerysaldi prowled up and down the length of the bed like a caged wolf.

  “It’s because she lost a lot of blood,” Angelique said. “Even magic can’t instantly replenish blood.” She waited just long enough for her magic to take hold before she gestured for the king to join her. “See? Her wound is already scabbed over and is closed up. She’s breathing easier. I’ll apply a few more healing spells, but by tomorrow afternoon, she’ll only have a few aches and stiffness left. As long as you don’t let her run outside for target practice for a few days, that is.”

  Themerysaldi collapsed into an ornately carved wooden chair. He covered his eyes with his arm and clutched the empty bottle as tension visibly drained from his previously stiff frame. “Thank you, Angelique.”

  Angelique glanced at him as she spun a little more of her deadly core magic into a warm healing spell. “Of course.”

  She worked in silence for a few moments, and just as she wondered if she ought to ask the Elf King if he needed a healing spell—or at least a cup of tea—elves swarmed the room.

  “Please allow us to assist you, Lady Enchantress.” Two elves—a male bearing a steaming tub of water and a female carrying bandages and towels—scurried up to the bed.

  “Thank you.” Angelique looked up from Quinn’s shoulder just long enough to smile at them. “Another minute, and I’ll have her shoulder healed enough that you can clean her wound and wrap it.”

  An elf dressed in leather jerkins and bearing a bow slipped into the room, stopped just short of Themerysaldi’s chair, and bowed.

  “We have reports from the scouts,” she said. “Three packs of goblins had peeled off from the main army and started marching north—to the Farset capital, Navia, it is assumed—before the rest of the forces attacked us. Those packs are still moving north, but an alarm has already been raised in Navia. It seems the red rider and her horses are being sent out.”

  Themerysaldi stood up and tapped the empty bottle on his thigh. “I think the humans will be able to take care of those forces, but send scouts to observe and help if necessary—and tell Cynbryn I’m sending him as an official envoy to King Dirth and Queen Orsina to explain what has happened.”

  “Is that necessary?” The jerkin-wearing elf asked. “A number of important human officials were cursed with us—since the curse was broken, I imagine they will explain the situation. They were leaving for Navia when we elves left Brandy Crest to fight the goblins.”

  “Perhaps, but given that the King’s twelve daughters were all cursed with us, I’d like to clean up any misunderstandings before they can form rather than let them fester,” Themerysaldi grimly said.

  Smart. I know who I’m going to vote for to deal with all the stupid politicking in the alliance in the future. Hopefully it will annoy him, too!

  Angelique stepped back and shook her hand out. “There—you can get started cleaning her wound. I’ll place another slow-burn healing spell on her once you finish.”

  “Yes, Lady Enchantress!” The female elf dipped a soft cloth in the warm water and began to dab at the sticky blood on Quinn’s shoulder.

  The male elf offered Angelique a hot, moist towel to wipe her hands on. She took it and gratefully cleaned her hands as she turned around to watch Themerysaldi and his scout.

  “What other forces are near Alabaster Forest?” Themerysaldi asked. “Any wraiths or trolls?”

  The scout shook her head. “No. But there is a second goblin army to the south—almost as large as the force Lady Angelique conquered.”

  Themerysaldi narrowed his eyes. “We’ll have to gather a defensive force and ride out to fight them. Using ambush tactics, we should be able to pick off some of the forces before they reach us.”

  The scout fidgeted nervously. “And what, then, after they reach us?”

  Themerysaldi set Angelique’s empty bottle on a wooden dresser that was carved with an ivy design. “Then we hope that the red rider and the human forces can come south fast enough to help us. Begin preparing our force—”

  “That won’t be necessary.” Angelique smoothed her skirts—more to sooth herself than because she at all cared about how she looked at the moment. “I’ll take care of the goblin forces.”

  Themerysaldi flicked his dark eyes in her direction and inspected her from head to toe. “Can you wield that much magic so soon after already using such force?”

  Angelique shrugged. “My price is uncomfortable to experience, but once I pay it, I recover quickly. Besides—do we really have a choice?”

  Themerysaldi mashed his lips together, then nodded. “I thank you, Lady Enchantress Angelique. The elves will owe you a great debt for your aid this evening, and you will be marked as an elf-friend of the highest caliber.”

  “Thank you.” Angelique barely refrained from pointing out how much of this drama could have been spared if he hadn’t been such a pest about criticizing her during her years of apprenticeship to Evariste and had named her an elf-friend years ago.

  Angelique glanced back at Quinn—the two elves were judiciously wrapping her shoulder. This is it, I guess. I may as well ride out and kill some more. Alone. Again.

  She sucked in a breath of air and prepared to duck out of the room when Themerysaldi got in the way and stood in the doorframe, talking to the scout.

  “Gather a small band of archers—the best we have here in Sideralis,” Themerysaldi said. “Tell the stables to prepare fresh horses—we’ll ride out with the Lady Enchantress.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty.” The scout bowed and slipped around the Elf King, darting out of view.

  Angelique stared dumbly at Themerysaldi. “You’re sending elves to come with me?”

  Themerysaldi stalked up to the bedside and studied the unconscious Quinn with an intensity that furrowed his brows. “Of course. We’re not going to send you off by yourself. And I’d be a shoddy king if I didn’t at least try to help you.”

  “You’re coming with me?” Angelique asked.

  Themerysaldi looked away from Quinn just long enough to scoff. “Obviously.”

  “What about Quinn?”

  Themerysaldi grimaced. “While I would prefer to stay with her, there is little point at the moment as my magic hasn’t recovered enough for me to perform even the most basic healing spell.” He narrowed his eyes as he studied Quinn—she was still pale, but Angelique thought a touch of her color might have returned.

  “Besides,” Themerysaldi continued. He gently brushed a loose lock of hair off Quinn’s forehead. “I have the suspicion that if Quinn awoke and found out I shirked out on my responsibilities and stayed here, she’d thump me—after recruiting Alastryn for aid.”

  His observation was so unexpected—but so correct—a startled puff of laughter escaped Angelique. “Very well,” she said. “In that case, please lead the way, King Themerysaldi.” The scant moment of humor left her as her smile faded away. “We’d best ride out to the fight—or the goblins will soon be upon us.”

  Angelique stood in the shadows of the forest. She had no idea what time of night it was—the human half of the woods had towering evergreen trees that blocked out the sky. The only light she had to see by were the glowing flames of Pegasus’ mane and tail.

  The constellation sniffed at a bald shrub and snorted at it, breathing glowing sparks.

  Angelique absently stepped on the few sparks that survived falling to the forest floor and snuffed them out—a practiced habit since she’d come to ride the magical equine—while she listened to the faint hoots and hollers of the goblins.

  “You know, this isn’t really necessary.” She glanced at Themerysaldi—who was leaning against a tree, caressing the fletching of an arrow tucked into his belt quiver. “I can march out and off the army in one go like I did earlier.” She hesitated. “Unless…you’re afraid I’ll hurt one of your people?”

  Themerysaldi snorted at her. “Considering how you’ve grown, you still have moments of great stupidity, I see.”
/>
  “I beg your pardon?” Angelique didn’t bother to keep the snarl out of her voice.

  “You aren’t going to hurt my people,” Themerysaldi said. “You might be tempted to kick me in the shins, but you wouldn’t harm any innocents—no matter how mad I make you.” He pulled the arrow from his belt quiver and absently tested the chiseled tip. “But there’s no need to make you experience your price if we can avoid it. If we can stave off some of your sickness by carving off chunks of the goblin army and making them easier to fight, it’s worth the effort.”

  Angelique brushed a lock of her dark hair from her face. “Funny. I never pegged you as thoughtful.”

  Themerysaldi shrugged. “I’m not shy about needing help, but I know you pay a price for it. Just as it’s my duty to spare my people, it’s my responsibility to aid you as much as I can.”

  He tilted his head as he listened to the forest. “It sounds like my people have successfully separated another band of goblins and are driving them this way—about thirty of them, maybe?”

  Angelique stuck her chin out as she struggled to listen, but to her ears the goblins sounded as far away as they had previously. “Any idea how long until they’ll be within range?”

  “Several minutes,” Themerysaldi said. “They’ll have to clean up any scouts that notice the missing forces.”

  Angelique’s core magic—cool to the touch and sharp—twined around her fingertips. She impatiently flicked it away, then wiped her hands off on her skirt. “Excellent. Thank you.”

  Themerysaldi pursed his lips. “Why are you so afraid of your war magic?”

  Angelique sighed. “As annoying as you can be, King Themerysaldi, I’ve never thought you to be an idiot. Haven’t we been over this enough?”

  “Yes, but all your rebuttals are dodgy at best: your magic is suited for war and bloodshed, it’s dangerous, and so on and so forth with all kinds of drabble that sound like something a Veneno Conclave bureaucrat would rattle off.”

  “I hurt Evariste with my core magic,” Angelique reminded him.

  “Once, when you were a student, and Evariste was acting like a stupid dunce who—frankly—deserved to be stabbed, considering how sloppy he was acting,” Themerysaldi said. “But you’re too terrified of your magic for the root of your trauma to be that one incident with Evariste or even the droning of your Luxi-Domus teachers. So. Spit it out—what is it?”