“I do.”
Angelique funneled more of her magic into the spell, trying to make it more potent. She’d gotten better at healing spells out of sheer necessity since Evariste was taken, but she still didn’t have the finesse and abilities that mages with healing magic as their core magic possessed.
She nodded in satisfaction after a few more minutes. “There. That should do the trick.” She offered Wybert another bright smile but was distracted when something tugged at her skirts.
She looked down to find Wybert’s little boy—who looked perhaps eight-years-old—peering up at her.
“Are you really Lady Enchantress Angelique?” he skeptically asked.
Angelique slapped her smile back on. “Yes.”
His shoulders went so lax, the boy tottered for a step. “Then that means you’re here to rescue us?”
Angelique glanced from the boy to his father. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“The forests of Farset have been plagued by monsters.” Wybert stood and subtly rolled his shoulders, testing out the healing spell, probably. “We’ve seen a number of wraiths in the area, but there have also been trolls and some goblins.” He gestured to the fallen trees behind him.
“Everyone’s real scared,” the little boy said.
Wybert placed a hand on his son’s head and smiled down at him as his daughter leaned into his legs. “The army is patrolling a lot more. They’re doing an amazing job at great personal risk, and they catch most of them, but sometimes it takes time for the bands to track them down. A village or two has been caught in the crossfire during the wait, and travelers have to be extra cautious,” he vaguely said with a purposeful glance down at his daughter.
Angelique frowned. “How bad is it?”
Wybert pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly.
Obviously, he didn’t want to say anything that would frighten his kids, but the tight expression on his face was enough for Angelique to get the gist.
Things were bad.
Angelique tilted her head back and stared at the forest canopy, gazing unseeingly at tall pine trees whose fragrant needles scented the air.
If it’s so bad the army can’t handle it even with extra patrols— Angelique mentally cut the thought short. She was tired and exhausted. Could she really handle taking on more? But I’m going to be here anyway as I shout at King Themerysaldi-the-deaf. I could do my own patrols between shouting sessions.
The thought made the muscles between her shoulders ache, and a headache threatened to settle behind her eyes.
Wybert’s son stepped closer to Angelique and stared up at her with big eyes full of hope. “But you’ll help us, won’t you, Lady Enchantress?”
Angelique smiled and pushed her weariness to the back of her mind. “Of course, I’ll help,” she promised.
A sunny smile bloomed on the little boy’s face, revealing his missing front tooth. “I knew it!” His smile turned bashful, and he ran back to his father’s side.
“Your help would be a godsend, Lady Enchantress,” Wybert said. “We haven’t seen mages in these parts for quite a while, and with the elves not leaving their woods…” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking older than he should.
“Then it seems my timing was perfect—both in finding you and in arriving here just when I could help.” Angelique gave the children her best enchantress smile, prodding grins from both of them—even the shy little girl. “And I’ll begin by escorting you back to Boyne.”
“Thank you, Lady Enchantress.” Wybert bowed to her. “You are as good and kind as ever.”
Angelique winced a little—she was so tired and cranky she didn’t feel good or kind. But when there were wraiths and trolls rampaging about, good manners hardly mattered anymore, as long as she did what had to be done.
“You’re very welcome. It is my honor and duty.” Angelique’s smile turned mischievous, and she held out her hand to the little boy, who took it. “Now, Wybert, please do tell: have you seen any wolves recently?”
Wybert guffawed as he turned in the direction of Boyne. “Please, allow me to tell you the greatest irony of my life that has made me the manager of most of Boyne’s domesticated animals…”
Weeks passed, and while Angelique didn’t come to regret her decision to help annihilate monsters in the area, with each passing day, she was just a little more irked and a little more exhausted.
Individually, the fights weren’t difficult or taxing—what was a pack of goblins or even three to four trolls compared to black mages and wyverns? It was more the endlessness of her task that caused her pain and added to her exhaustion. For every foe she vanquished, another took its place. She was always moving, always fighting, always shouting into the void of a dreadfully quiet forest.
To make it more challenging, she had to be stealthy in her fights. She couldn’t afford to let any soldiers see her, or they would doubtlessly invite her back to speak to King Dirth without giving her the opportunity to politely refuse. And meeting the King of Farset was the last thing she wanted to do—since his daughters were hale enough during the day, there was no way she was going to intervene in their curse, something the king would undoubtedly request of her.
No, she was set on meeting with King Themerysaldi, even if she had to camp out on the border and wait for Odette’s delivery to do so. Since Carabosso had disappeared without a trace, the Elf King—once freed from his curse—was her greatest chance of finding Evariste, and she was going to prioritize freeing him, even if it was selfish of her.
But as days turned into weeks and she saw no sign of the elves—much less their king—the grief that had settled deep in her heart bordered on turning into cynicism.
The days turned colder as winter threatened to encroach on fall, and the trees lost most of their leaves.
Angelique sat on a stump and stared into Alabaster Forest, aware she looked downright disreputable. Oh, her color-changing dress and its sparkling hues were unscathed, but the dark cloak she had wrapped around her shoulders was spattered with mud from a morning fight with a swamp troll, and her hair was half-pulled out of the braid she’d tamed it into that morning—a victim of running top speed through the forest while trying to lure about twelve wraiths away from a merchant and his cart.
Should I even bother calling out? However the elves are cursed, they obviously must not be able to respond. I’ve been screaming myself hoarse for days traveling up and down their border, and there’s not even a sign of them.
I cannot think that if they knew I was here they wouldn’t respond, or that they are so lackadaisical and carefree, they just haven’t bothered to check.
It must, then, be beyond their abilities.
If so, does that mean I would do better to spend my time tracking down more foes? Odette’s handoff should be within the next two weeks—I think—so I don’t have too long to wait.
Angelique froze when she heard the faint, murmuring tones of voices.
She perked with both interest and concern. Who—besides her—would be squatting on the border of the elves’ territory?
Entering their forest without their permission was prohibited, and obviously their permission could not be granted due to their sequestering. What reason, then, would bring someone there?