Trial of Magic

by K. M. Shea

  More unrest stirred in the courtyard, and when Angelique peeked at the line of magic users on the balcony, she noticed Tristisim looked stormy and like he might possibly burst a blood vessel. Felicienne convulsively clutched her hands together, but the set of her shoulders was firm, and she appeared thoughtful.

  Clovicus was chortling to himself while Sybilla nodded in encouragement, and Evariste raised his eyebrows at Angelique and a hint of a grin played on his lips.

  He thinks it’s a good idea.

  Angelique returned the grin, but the unrest sweeping through the crowd of mages was starting to be worrisome.

  If we don’t win them over to this idea, this could splinter us.

  Whispers crept across the courtyard like a spreading pestilence, and in the first few rows of mages, Angelique could see signs of shock and the buildup of anger.

  She took a step forward, intending to join Snow White at the balcony, but she froze when someone shouted above the din.

  “Excellent! A smashing idea!”

  Everyone—Angelique included—peered at the young mage who’d shouted the praise. She recognized him as the happy-go-lucky student Clovicus had brought with him to Wistful Thicket the previous fall (he’d gotten chased by the ducks outside Evariste’s house).

  Aware of all the stares, the student scrunched his nose up. “What?” he crossly demanded. “This means we won’t have to worry about black mages attacking us in the middle of the night. Why are you all upset about that?”

  The pointed question made the crowd pause. Mages stopped whispering and instead blinked in surprise, swapped glances with their comrades, and thoughtfully peered around the courtyard.

  Sybilla tipped her head toward Clovicus. “That upstanding student was one of the children the Council made you unwillingly take under your wing and tutor, is he not?”

  “Yes, that would be him,” Clovicus said.

  “It seems your lessons on rebellion were well taught.”

  “Thank you. In light of recent events, I’m starting to understand why the rest of the Council was always mad that Tristisim kept sticking those brats on me.”

  Angelique cracked a smile as the energy of the crowd visibly changed.

  “He’s right,” a woman shouted on the other side of the Courtyard. “Why’d the Conclave ever leave Verglas in the first place?”

  “Probably was the Chosen,” someone darkly offered.

  “You’re just seeing black mages in every shadow,” another mage said in an accusing tone.

  “Oh, really?” the woman asked. “Then I imagine you must think it was just coincidence that our highly valued library burned down once we moved to Mullberg, and we lost countless priceless records and historical documents?”

  Mages visibly blanched, and another blanket of whispers spread through the courtyard.

  Angelique winced. “I hadn’t thought of the library.”

  “I hadn’t either,” Evariste grimly said. “But it seems more than plausible and almost certain given the four Council Members, Luxi-Domus headmaster, and countless other mages in important positions proved to be Chosen.”

  Angelique’s spine quivered, but her worries were swept away when the staccato sound of claps began to drift from the crowd of mages.

  The lone few claps turned into a stronger sound as more mages joined in, and when some of the magic users started whistling and hollering their support, the sound became a rousing roar.

  “Praises for Mullberg!”

  “Salutes for Mullberg!”

  “Bravo, Princess Snow White!”

  Snow White relaxed as the shouts of praise squeaked through the roar of approval the mages gave her. She released the banister, waved a little before awkwardly fixing the bow that pulled her hair back from her face, and then stepped back from the front of the balcony.

  “Bravo indeed, Princess Snow White,” Clovicus praised. “It truly is a plan that will give us all the mental assurance we need.”

  “I’m not so certain it’s a good idea,” Tristisim said. “How can we move from our homebase in a time when we need all the resources we can get? The Veneno Conclave fortress has been fortified for times like this.”

  “Which is why it’s filled with traps, isn’t it?” Felicienne asked. “Because the Chosen want us wasting our time trying to survive in our own home instead of helping the rest of the continent.”

  Tristisim snapped his jaw shut and furrowed his brow so much, his thick eyebrows almost buried his eyes.

  “We can’t thank you enough, Snow White.” Angelique took the princess’s hands in hers and squeezed them. They were a little clammy, which oddly made Angelique want to cry.

  Crowds terrify her, but she came because I asked her to, because she is my friend.

  Angelique fought an unexpected lump in her throat and gave Snow White a watery smile.

  “Indeed,” Evariste added. His gaze was somewhat piercing as he studied Snow White. “This is a sacrifice from Mullberg on more than one level—for I’m certain this will affect your country.”

  “Our economy will suffer,” Snow White readily agreed. “We’ll have to restructure our taxes since the Veneno Conclave paid handsomely to live on our lands. My people will face some repercussions, but not many businesses will suffer since the Conclave was mostly self-sufficient, and given its relatively close distance to the border, most visitors—tourist, intellectual, or otherwise—typically stayed within the fortress itself. But we will feel the pain of losing the mages.”

  Angelique grimaced. “I’m sorry—I imagine your cabinet is going to be very upset with you.”

  Snow White squeezed Angelique’s hands. “It doesn’t matter,” she said in a voice that was as soft as satin but as hardened as a sword. “We’ve entered an era where I must put the good of the continent ahead of my country. Without any help from mages, I’m not so certain the continent will survive.” Snow White looked pointedly down the line of enchanters standing on the balcony. “Mullberg will scrape by if it means assuring magical aid for the rest of the continent. And we will gladly help with the move in order to provide much-needed assurance to the mages.” Her eyes rested on Tristisim in what basically amounted to an open challenge.

  Hah! A challenge has been issued! She’s essentially saying Mullberg will make the sacrifice…with the expectation that the Conclave finally acts in the interest of the continent instead of hiding. Finally—finally—someone is holding them accountable!

  Angelique tugged Snow White closer and then flung her arms around her with abandon. “Thank you, Snow White. For all of it,” she whispered into the princess’s ear, knowing Snow White would understand.

  Snow White patted her shoulder, and when they stepped back, she smiled archly at Angelique. “Of course! That’s what friends do.”

  It took approximately a week for the Conclave to call in all mages out on assignments and to arrange enough transportation for everyone.

  Stil and the craftmages staying in Chanceux Chateau reported in, as did Firra and Donaigh. With Clovicus and Sybilla leading the charge, the mages began their journey—leaving not a single magic user behind, though Snow White left a veritable army of soldiers to pack and guard the place, with Marzell, Gregori, Aldelbert, and Wendal staying behind to oversee the process.

  While the journey started out happily enough with the mages in high spirits (they were about to get the reassurance they badly needed, after all), morale among the Conclave took hit after hit with each passing day as mages started disappearing at night.

  “Do we have an exact count on how many have left?” Angelique asked.

  Pegasus snorted, blasting out a few embers as he pranced in place.

  Sybilla, riding a placid mule that didn’t mind Pegasus’ antics, glanced up at her. “If we include all of those who abandoned the Conclave when you flushed out the Council? Of a sort.” “We have records, but no one has taken the time to count everything up and organize it prettily.”

  “Lord Enchanter Tristisim w
ent over some rough numbers last night,” Lovelana said. She rode a red roan mare that was positioned on Sybilla’s other side—farther away from Pegasus, who’d frightened the mare when he first arrived with a thunderstrike the day the procession began.

  Lovelana pressed her lips into a grim line and stared at the long trail of mages that stretched ahead of them. “If we add up the forces that left initially—which was nearly one fourth of the mages present at the Conclave—and combine them with the mages who have fallen out of contact or have disappeared on the march…he believes roughly a third of Conclave mages were a part of Chosen.”

  “A third.” Angelique’s fingers twitched, and she clutched the reins of Pegasus’ bridle. “I thought there would be a few Chosen mages around…but for so many more to leave us.”

  “Snow White’s plan is far more necessary than I ever imagined,” Lovelana said.

  “For a multitude of reasons.” Sybilla—riding side-saddle—frowned at the backs of her mule’s large ears. “I knew the Conclave was in dire straits being so useless and all, but I didn’t think it was this bad.” She sighed wearily, and the sad light in her eyes set off her whole countenance.

  “I didn’t know either,” Angelique said.

  “Oh, but you did.” Lovelana had to lean at an ungainly angle to peer past Sybilla and see Angelique, but she somehow still managed to look elegant. “That’s why you washed your hands of the Conclave when you did. Because you could tell it was rotten to the core.”

  “That is giving me a little too much credit,” Angelique said. “It was just because they annoyed me with their constant hassles.”

  “Even so, it was for the good of the continent that you cut off contact when you did,” Sybilla said. “I imagine once you stopped handing in reports and coming to scrape and bow at the Council’s altar, the Chosen had a harder time keeping track of you.”

  A war mage Angelique recognized as one of Javed’s people, who possessed magical speed and stamina, jogged past on foot, looking as fresh as a daisy. She saluted Angelique with a smile as she passed, patrolling the long procession.

  Angelique was positioned near the end of the procession, acting as a sort of rearguard and, more importantly, an intimidation factor to keep mages from running.

  Overhead, Odile and her wyvern soared through the skies. The budding mage had joined the procession on the day they set out. Surprisingly, only a handful of mages questioned her sincerity. It probably was a combination of Odile’s sweet temperament—she cooed at her monstrous wyvern like it was a puppy, and it wagged its tail for her—and the relief to be going to Verglas.

  “How do you feel about the sudden change in your reputation, dearie?” Sybilla glanced at Angelique. “You’ve successfully humiliated your naysayers. Even Tristisim is too cowed to say anything about you these days—which is probably good for his health, as I think Evariste would punch him if he tried.”

  Angelique shrugged. “I don’t really care anymore. It’s too much trouble.”

  “Good for you!” Sybilla crowed.

  “I’ve noticed you’re now beheld with a sort of respected awe,” Lovelana chimed in.

  “Maybe a frightened awe, but I still don’t care.” Angelique flicked a dark lock of her hair over her shoulder. “I’m done with my illusions to make myself look nicer. I’m done apologizing for my war magic. I don’t even care if people are too scared to speak to me. They can go have a chat with the Chosen, then. I’ve got more important things to worry about.”

  Like practice, Angelique thought grimly. What Puss, Quinn—and yes, even Emerys—put me through was what made it possible to fight off the hidden Chosen mages when they revealed their true allegiances. But I need to get better—particularly since the Chosen have more mages than we ever estimated.

  Angelique shifted uneasily in the saddle as she remembered Crest, Lazare, Primrose, and Galendra.

  “I do care what you think of me though, Sybilla, Lovelana,” Angelique abruptly said. “I value your opinions, and I owe you a great debt of gratitude.”

  Lovelana caressed her mare’s neck. “Whatever for?”

  “You, Lovelana, for you specifically told me the Conclave had a mole—or I never would have pushed the Council members as I did. But on a more personal note, I still owe you both my thanks for saving my life when I confronted the Council and collapsed over my price.”

  “You mean when Lovelana trundled in and protected you with a shield like a fierce warrior? Yes, that was a spectacular display,” Sybilla chuckled.

  Lovelana blushed a shade of pink that set off her mint-green traveling dress nicely. “You helped, too!”

  “Indeed! But I don’t think I’ve ever seen you move that fast before. Excited to finally have a friend, are you?”

  “W-what?”

  “Oohhh, still too shy to admit it?”

  “It meant a lot to me,” Angelique said.

  Sybilla and Lovelana dropped their playful argument and peered up at her.

  Unable to meet their eyes, Angelique stared at the crest of Pegasus’ neck as the constellation kept his pace remarkably slow for once. “It wasn’t just that you protected me—though you obviously saved my life—it was that in stepping out like that, you sided with me.”

  “Of course we’d side with you, dearie,” Sybilla said. “From the time you were a student, you’ve only ever wanted to protect and defend. You’re the very definition of what a Veneno Conclave mage should be.”

  “I’m sorry it took so long,” Lovelana said. There was a downcast shadow in her eyes. “When you tried to talk to me about searching for Evariste, I should have listened right away.”

  “You were being manipulated—and we didn’t have the faintest hint of just how bad the situation was,” Angelique said. “But when I attacked the Council Members, I knew it could end badly. My actions were pretty hard to justify to people who didn’t know. But both of you stepped in and helped without hesitation. I can never thank you enough.”

  Sybilla leaned across the gap between them, straining to pat Angelique’s hand since Pegasus was so much taller than her mule. “As we said, dearie. We’ll always be on your side.” She winked. “But you can’t start counting life debts and such.”

  Surprised, Angelique blinked. “Why not?”

  “Because that will put nearly everyone on the continent under a great debt to you for all the beast-slaying, black-mage-fighting, and curse-breaking you’ve done.” Sybilla smiled, making the wrinkles around the corners of her eyes crinkle, before her humor abruptly fell away. “It’s not a debt, Angelique. It’s called working together. We’ll support you however we can.”

  Lovelana nodded in agreement. “Yes, exactly so. We’ll continue to be there, even in the heat of battle.”

  Angelique nodded awkwardly. “Thank you.”

  Sybilla studied her for a moment longer, then cast a beaming smile on the mages in front of them. “However, I encourage you to call in a debt on Finnr! He does owe you for his prickly attitude, and he needs to be held accountable.”

  “Are you good friends with Finnr?” Lovelana asked Sybilla.

  “Good heavens, no,” Sybilla sputtered. “But I know him better than I’d normally want to know such a sour fish.”

  Lovelana leaned back in her saddle. “You were in the same class as students, were you not?”

  “I’m two years his senior—and I’ll never let him forget it,” Sybilla cackled.

  Angelique smiled at the lighthearted conversation and listened as they followed the procession.

  Out of sheer instinct, she lifted her eyes to Evariste, who was riding in a cart with Clovicus just in front of them. The two Lord Enchanters had their heads tilted together as Evariste helped Clovicus make records of what he’d been able to learn while held captive—this time for the Veneno Conclave to review since they’d already sent off similar records to Severin.

  He’s safe, she reminded herself. He’s out of that mirror. His magic might be sealed, but he’s safe. That’s
really all that I care about.

  The odd pain that had plagued Angelique every day since he’d been taken was gone. He was back, and things had returned to normal…almost.

  It’s not that there’s any strain between us, but things are different. Angelique shifted her gaze to the cloudy sky. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is because so much is the same—standing next to him still feels natural, and there is no hesitation between us in conversation. I’m so glad to have him back, and I’m filled with the constant need to remind myself he’s really here. I’m practically as terrible about touching as he was when I was a student. I haven’t hidden anything from him, and he has no reason to hide anything from me, but…our relationship isn’t quite the same as it was.

  Pegasus jingled his head, and Angelique immediately dropped her uncomfortable thoughts to soothe the constellation, patting him on the neck.

  “Don’t worry, Pegasus. We’re almost there. But I’m sure I could ride in the cart with Evariste and Clovicus if you needed to leave?” Angelique asked.

  She’d summoned the starry equine without thinking when they’d started to leave, and she’d been gratified that he’d come.

  Pegasus awkwardly turned his head so he could peer at her with one eye, the muscles in his neck bulging so a shooting star shot down to his shoulder.

  Giving into the temptation, Angelique slumped over his neck and hugged him. “But I’m glad you’re with me, old friend.”

  Pegasus snorted and flicked his fiery tail, but he kept his pace sedate as he stayed in line with Sybilla’s mule and Lovelana’s mare.

  The procession arrived at the Verglas border the following afternoon. At the front of the line, mages joyfully darted into the neighboring country, embracing those who popped through with them, uninhibited by the guarding magic.