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.
“I think the last of the Chosen mages left last night,” Angelique said to Pegasus. She was still mounted on his back as they stood halfway up a Mullberg foothill—which afforded them an excellent view of the movement in the procession. “But I’d still like to watch from a distance so I can see the entire line.”
In case we get any last-minute runners. It was a grim thought. One Angelique didn’t want to verbalize because that would make the mass betrayal that much more real.
Pegasus snorted, then clambered higher up the foothill so they were positioned at the very top of it.
The procession snaked through a pair of hills that funneled them directly into Verglas. From this position, they could watch everyone as the procession shuffled across the border. Odile and her wyvern flew over the border, landing on the other side in a move that resembled a graceful dance. Sybilla and her mule barreled across the border to go greet her student.
I don’t think there are any Chosen forces among us—they’d be foolish to stick around this long. But after all that has happened, I’d better be on guard in case they decide to attack.
Angelique glanced to the north—at the immense mountain range that made up most of the Verglas-Mullberg border. To the west, Verglas opened up in grassy plains, squares of freshly tilled farmland, and thick patches of forests.
Something glittered on the horizon.
Angelique plucked her spyglass from her satchel secured to her saddle and fitted it to her eye.
Troops, wearing chainmail and dressed in Verglas colors of light blue and white, marched toward the border. They were armed, but given the size of the force—it was barely two squads compared to the army Mullberg had guarding the valley between the two hills—Angelique was pretty certain they were merely meant to be guides and serve as an official welcome.
Pegasus shifted, so Angelique wasn’t too surprised when Evariste’s voice drifted on the wind to her.
“Do you see something?”
“Yes. King Toril and Queen Linnea sent us the welcoming committee they promised.” Angelique collapsed her spyglass and smiled at Evariste as he climbed the hill on foot.
Angelique tucked her spyglass away, then slid off Pegasus’ back so she could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Evariste.
Evariste joined her in looking at the curling line of the procession. “They seemed quite determined when you spoke to them through your mirror before we left.” His golden hair glinted in the sunlight that peeked through the clouds. He nodded toward her hand. “That was at least a pleasant surprise to return back to.”
“The mirrors?”
“Indeed. It’s brilliant that Prince Severin arranged for all the rulers in the alliance to have a spelled mirror for communication purposes.”
“It was only possible because Arcainia bankrolled the process, and all the best master craftmages were holed up in Chanceux Chateau to cast the spells,” Angelique said.
“Yes, but not even Liliane and her chosen have instant communication. It’s a great advantage—one that we can see play out in this instance.” Evariste gestured to the line of mages slowly crossing into Verglas. “I’m fairly certain it’s why there have been no attacks.”
“The mirrors are wonderful, but I hope we get a chance to visit Chanceux Chateau soon. You’ll enjoy talking to Prince Severin; I imagine he will greatly reassure you,” Angelique said. “He is an excellent strategist. It will be interesting to see what he’ll pull from the information we sent ahead to him.”
“Yes. I imagine between him and Princess Snow White, they’ll come up with our best course of action,” Evariste said. “Snow White was right to send us all to Verglas—the uncertainty of allegiances was creating strain and tension.”
“And now we know beyond doubt.”
“Yes.” Evariste offered her a glimmer of a smile. “As soon as things are settled, you’ll ride off to speak to Severin?”
“I imagine he’ll have something for me to do, and I can be of more help to the continent if I’m actively fighting now—since the Conclave will be safe in Verglas.” Angelique glanced at Pegasus. “That is…if Pegasus finds it permissible?”
Pegasus pressed his muzzle to the side of Angelique’s head in what would have been a sweet and gentle gesture—if he hadn’t immediately clamped his teeth around a lock of her hair and pulled.
“Ow, ow—I said if you wanted to, not that you had to!” Angelique complained. “I was offering you a choice!” She rescued her hair from the constellation’s mouth and glared at him.
Pegasus sneezed in her face, flicking her cheeks with horse snot and spitting an ember out on her hair that died before it burned anything.
“I believe he’s saying the offer was unnecessary,” Evariste “helpfully” said.
“Yes. Thanks.” Angelique wiped her face off on her sleeve and scowled at Pegasus.
He turned his massive hindquarters at her and drifted off, acting innocent.
“I’m not giving you any treats later today, you pumpkin-hating brat,” Angelique called after him.
Pegasus ignored her and pretended to graze—“pretended” because he didn’t actually eat the grass he sniffed; he just blackened it with his breath.
Evariste laughed. “I’m not sure what I should be more frightened of.”
“Frightened?” Angelique squinted up at the lord enchanter. “What is there to be frightened of?”
“You—for daring to call a constellation a brat,” Evariste said, “or him, for letting you!”
“Oh, Pegasus is a big sweetie. He’s showy and pretends he’s as hard as stone, and yeah he’s got a sour temperament that’s about as bad as a dragon with indigestion, and sometimes he’s petty—and he can be downright mean when he’s feeling it. But…” Angelique blinked in confusion. “What was my point again?”
“That Pegasus is a ‘sweetie’?”
“Yes, exactly! I think. Probably. Sometimes. Maybe. We can hope.” Angelique gave Evariste her most winning smile.
Evariste did not disappoint. He laughed so hard, he staggered a step, jostling into Angelique.