I doubt it’s good intentions; that much is for certain.
Angelique slid off her stump and stole her way through the forest, going for stealth over speed as she followed the sounds of talking.
The voices were animated and light-hearted—whoever they were, they obviously weren’t trying to hide their presence—so Angelique took her time in her approach, particularly because the closer she got, the more it seemed like she recognized one of the voices.
She circled around the talkers once she pinpointed the location they were coming from and nudged aside a scratchy pine branch so she could peer at them.
It was a man and a woman—and a fine, chestnut-colored horse.
The woman had her back to Angelique, which meant she couldn’t make out more than blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid and breeches and a thick shirt in muted greens and browns that made her meld into the forest. She was quite tall, and there was something familiar about her.
She was fussing with her saddle’s stirrups but presently finished and moved to join her companion in standing near the horse’s head. “Isn’t that the most important reason for my presence?” she said.
Angelique tried to place the woman and her voice but, in finding she couldn’t, shifted her attention to the male companion.
Most curiously, he had on a white mask that covered his entire face, and Angelique thought he emanated a faint whiff of magic. Raven-black hair topped his tall, broad-shouldered male frame, which was clothed in breeches, a midnight blue over-jacket, and a pale blue undershirt.
Those colors Angelique was greatly familiar with, as they were the colors of King Themerysaldi. But it wasn’t until the man spoke that it dawned on Angelique just whom she was seeing.
“It is important,” the male companion agreed, his voice cutting through Angelique with the ease of a sword. “But can’t I be glad…”
The woman said something in response, but Angelique didn’t hear it; she was too busy gaping in shock. She knew that voice! The masked man was none other than Themerysaldi!
Chapter 4
What was he doing here, so casually speaking to someone when Angelique had spent weeks screaming her throat raw? She was so frozen in shock that she dazedly watched the conversation play out, barely able to believe her eyes.
“Sometimes you are too nice,” the woman said.
King Themerysaldi snorted. “I’m as nice as an injured bear.” He lifted his right hand. “I just…value you.”
Angelique’s shock took on new depths—and more than a little rage.
King Themerysaldi is standing here on the border…FLIRTING?!
The Elf King reached out to tug a loose strand of hair that had fallen from his companion’s braid, and Angelique saw red.
Evariste was rotting in the clutches of black mages, and his best friend—one of the most powerful beings on the continent—was courting?
I’m going to kill him, Angelique thought clearly. Without any kind of regret. And only after I rip that stupid mask off his face and repeatedly pummel him.
“Quinn,” the doltish—selfish—Elf King took a step closer to his companion. “I—”
“YOU!” Angelique exploded from her hiding place. She pointed an accusing finger at Emerys and was marginally tempted to lace it with magic, though she knew the Elf King could trounce her in his sleep. “You useless dolt!”
“Angelique?” Themerysaldi had the gall to sound surprised.
Angelique gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists to keep herself from jumping across the border and shaking him. “I have been searching this stupid border for days looking for you! I assumed you would be eager to test the limits of your curse and try to free yourself, but instead I find you flirting awkwardly with THIS!” Angelique swiveled to pour her spiteful gaze out on the object of Themerysaldi’s affection, but that was when she finally placed the kind face matched with the military-esque bearings of the woman. “Oh, you’re the soldier from the road.”
All dislike for the woman was immediately extinguished—Quinn of Midnight Lake had been the first kind person Angelique had encountered in ages, which bought her a lifetime of goodwill. “Well, you I still like. But you!” Angelique whirled her attention back to Emerys with a killing intent.
Themerysaldi slightly bowed his head. “I’m glad to see you too, Angelique.”
Angelique took a deep breath so she wouldn’t scream insults at the Elf King.
“How did you find us?” Quinn asked.
“Through your talking. I’d recognize His Majesty’s stupid, smug, self-satisfied voice anywhere,” Angelique snarled.
“You’ve dropped the act finally, have you?” Due to his mask, Themerysaldi’s expression was covered, but she could hear self-satisfaction in his voice as he turned back to Quinn. “She always pretended to be this meek and quiet thing. She stammered and blushed like mad whenever anyone talked to her and always acted like those tranquil yet bossy enchantresses you hear about in the stories, but I knew she had to have hidden fire. You can’t have her magic of—”
He was going to blab about her magic?
Oh, no you don’t, you selfish princeling.
She couldn’t lunge at him—she wasn’t so stupid as to break that law in her anger—but she scooped up a small rock and threw it with all her rage. The rock passed so close to the nose of Themerysaldi’s mask, it whistled.
When the Elf King finally looked in her direction, Angelique’s face was cold with her resentment. “Not a word,” she ordered, not caring if it was faux pas to give a monarch an order.
For the first time, she could feel Emerys’s preoccupation with Quinn settle as his posture returned to something more royal. “Angelique, you’ll have to get over it one day. Your magic isn’t something you can deny.”
Angelique had a great many words she wished to exchange with the Elf King. None of them, however, involved her magic. So it was with a hollow, emotionless voice that she repeated, “Not a word.”
For the first time since Angelique had met him, the Elf King backed down. “Right.” He rubbed the back of his head. “So, why are you standing in the human woods?”
Angelique’s shoulders hunched as her emotions cooled from a deep rage to simple hostility. “Because I’m not an elf-friend, so I can’t just stroll in whenever I like!”
Maddeningly, Emerys snapped his fingers and declared in a bright voice, “That’s right! I forgot about that.”
He seems inept enough from his infatuation with Quinn that I’m fairly certain I could throw another rock and nail him in the throat. It wouldn’t do lasting damage, but it would do a great deal in making me feel better.
Quinn must have sensed Angelique’s murderous thoughts. The kind soldier put her hand on Emerys’ arm. “Emerys. The Lady Enchantress has been through a lot. Stop playing games.”
Angelique peeled her gaze from Emerys to Quinn, feeling such gratitude for the other woman, she probably could have cried again.
That settled it: Quinn wasn’t a soldier; she was a saint.
Emerys shifted his weight, appearing guilty—though Angelique couldn’t read much of his emotions with that stupid mask on. “Right. Sorry, Angelique. Please enter Alabaster Forest. As the King of the Elves, I offer shelter and safe haven to you as long as you should need it.”