Angelique jumped over the side, falling so fast, her eyes teared up. At the last second, she threw a gust of wind below her, slowing her progress so she didn’t splat on the ground when she landed.
Once her eyes cleared, Angelique took a quick inventory of her surroundings.
They’d landed in an empty courtyard, which opened up into one of the main streets in the fortress—one that led towards Luxi-Domus, the Veneno Conclave’s academy of magic.
“Help!” Primrose shouted, her mask of motherly-worry sliding over her face. “Apprentice Angelique has given into the darkness of her magic—she’s attacking us!” She ran out of the courtyard, her cohorts on her heels.
Angelique cursed under her breath as she chased after them. She shouted in the language of magic, and giant spikes of earth ripped from the ground, blocking the pathway out of the courtyard.
Crest shouted. His watery-blue magic rippled at his fingers as he twisted it and re-flattened the ground so they could run through.
Angelique threw weapons at them again, but they’d reloaded their green shields, so the thrown daggers, swords, and arrows only cracked their shields’ surfaces.
Primrose made it to the street. “Help—she’s given herself to the darkness!”
“Help!” Galendra screamed, her voice ripe with panic as she twisted around to gape at Angelique with true horror.
Lazare slowed to a trot. He seemed surprisingly tall now that he wasn’t bent over or slumped in a chair, as Angelique had always seen him previously. “Mark our words, she’s as mad as a dog!”
Angelique sprinted into the street, her hair swinging around her in a heavy curtain. She considering shooting the four on the spot—their shields were just about finished. But the road was a busy one. Two mages carrying books, a teacher herding four young students, a merchant with a pushcart, and vendors from the few stalls set up at the edges of the road all craned their necks to watch.
Angelique inhaled deeply as she thought through the possibilities. This was far more dangerous than facing the four Council Members. If they got everyone riled up, Angelique would be ripped to shreds by other mages due to sheer numbers.
She cleared her throat and made herself shout, “Crest, Lazare, Primrose, and Galendra are with the Chosen. They’re black mages! Council Members Tristisim and Felicienne are back in Hallowed Hall, being protected by some war mages.”
“She’s lying. She killed them herself!” Lazare declared. “They’re dead!”
“Lazare!” Crest growled. The younger enchanter had obviously realized they needed to live up to their lies, or the truth would come out without Angelique’s “aid.”
More mages joined the crowd, murmuring to each other as they ringed around Angelique and the Council Members.
This is dangerous…I’ve only been tolerated in the past. They’ll turn on me in an instant.
Several of the mages pointed to the glittering cloud of weapons that hung behind Angelique.
For a moment, she considered flinging them at Crest, Lazare, Primrose, and Galendra. But if she attacked like that, to the observers it would seem unprovoked and done in cold blood.
Reluctantly, Angelique tampered down her magic. It no longer rushed around her like a thick river, but a small stream, and she lowered the weapons so they didn’t hang ominously.
“Lord Enchanter Tristisim and Lady Enchantress Felicienne are safe—they are with Lord Enchanter Evariste, who has been freed from captivity.” Angelique had calculated the comment to be a distraction, and she wasn’t disappointed at the audible wave of murmurs that passed through the crowing crowd.
“Evariste is back?”
“He’s been found?”
“Did you see him…?”
“E-Evariste is working with her,” Galendra squeaked. “They’re the ones working for the Chosen!”
It was the wrong thing to say. Even though he’d been missing for years, Evariste had always been popular with mages.
Mages eyed Galendra with skepticism.
“Galendra, calm yourself.” Primrose appeared soothing as she patted Galendra on the shoulder and a fake smile pulled on her plump cheeks. “You’re confused.” She glanced at Crest and nodded almost imperceptibly.
“This is how badly she has scared poor Lady Enchantress Galendra.” Crest strode to the front of their little group, the blue shine of his black hair was nearly purple from the red light of the setting sun. “She was so frightened, she couldn’t comprehend what happened. Arrest Apprentice Angelique.”
The crowd, fickle and distrustful of Angelique, grew a sharper edge to it. Several mages took a few steps towards her, their gazes set.
Angelique hurriedly lowered her weapons all the way to the ground and broke off contact with her magic. “They’re lying. All we have to do is call for Evariste—”
Her stomach churned, and Angelique realized her mistake: she’d just used a large amount of her core magic. Her price demanded she pay for it.
Nausea swept through her body with such ferocity, for a moment, Angelique couldn’t track where the earth began and the sky ended.
Her legs gave out, and she crumpled to the ground, her stomach heaving. She retched and felt as if she was burning alive as heat ate at her skin, and she sweated. She tried to spit out the acidic taste left in her mouth before her body twitched and crumpled in another retch.
This time, when she finished, she was splayed out over the ground, road grit pressing into her cheeks as she tried to breathe without whimpering.
The familiar zing of magic rippled. Even through the murkiness of her nausea, Angelique could feel it. She peeled her eyes open and saw Primrose advancing on her with fists encased in magic.
Get up—I have to get up! Angelique tried to push herself up, but her arms trembled with fatigue, and she couldn’t even lift her head off the ground.
Primrose came closer. From this angle, Angelique could see the beadwork on the enchantress’s slippers.
Stand! She’ll kill me!
Angelique managed to pull her head off the ground, but it took so much effort to even rest on her elbows, her entire body shook. She licked her dry lips and tried to utter a spell—she needed to protect herself—but her tongue felt thick, and she couldn’t speak.
Primrose took a breath and pointed at her, uttering a spell in the booming language of magic.
Chapter 35
Angelique braced herself, but rather than the flare of pain she expected, there was a crackle and the angry explosion of ricocheting magic.
She peeled her eyes open and stared, gobsmacked, at the petite woman who stood between her and Primrose, her arms raised to support the pink-hued shield she’d created.
“Lady Enchantress Lovelana.” Primrose straightened in surprise and backed off. “What are you doing?”
“I stand with Angelique.” The enchantress rolled her shoulders back and kept the shield up.
“You’re making a mistake, dear,” Primrose said.
“No.” Lovelana shook her head. “Angelique would never slip. And her magic isn’t evil.”
The murmur of the crowd was so thick, it was almost tangible.
“I must strongly suggest you step aside, Lovelana. You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crest flicked back a lock of his black hair and smiled handsomely at Lovelana. “She’s dangerous. We never should have let Evariste make her his apprentice.”