“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.