King Themerysaldi hadn’t answered Angelique’s call for help, even though she’d screamed herself hoarse at the Alabaster Forest’s borders, unable to venture into elven territory without Evariste—his status as an elf-friend giving him entrance without the elves’ permission.
Angelique now knew the elves’ absence was due to King Themerysaldi and his people having been cursed—such a surprise. Odette, one of the many new acquaintances Angelique had made that had at one time or another been cursed, had told her as much.
Even though it was weeks before she was supposed to meet Odette, who made occasional deliveries for the elves and was allowed in the woods during those scheduled times, Angelique couldn’t help but hope she’d be able to reach the elves now and not have to wait for so many nights to pass.
She didn’t know what else to do.
She was frustrated that the black mage had slipped through her fingers and worried that perhaps everyone was right about her magic after all. It had reacted so smoothly, and the power she felt when wielding it was intoxicating.
What she really wanted was to talk to Evariste.
She missed him so much—she’d been missing him for years. But now she’d give anything to see his warm smile and to hear his musical voice while she told him all the horrible things she’d been through the past few years.
But I can’t, because he’s captured, and I keep failing to find him, she stiffly reminded herself.
King Themerysaldi was no Evariste. He had the ornery temperament of a donkey and lacked the usual social sense and polite manners of his kinsmen. But if he was freed of his curse, he’d be able to find Evariste. He was the king of the elves—one of the most powerful beings on the continent!
So even though she was—hopefully—just a few weeks short of seeing him to request his help and to look into his curse, Angelique wanted to try one last time to establish contact with the elves.
She kicked a rock down the road and flipped her hood up to cover her hair, mindful that her magic-sparked looks were almost as eye-catching as her dress.
She could have put on a cloaking spell to ensure she didn’t catch anyone’s eye, but somehow that felt like cheating. Enchantresses—and enchanters—were supposed to help those in need.
It was just that Angelique had encountered so many in need, she was two reeds shy of becoming a basket case.
She had altered Prince Severin’s curse (which had given him the body and mind of a beast), fought a witch named Clotilde in the country of Arcainia, encountered a nightmare and its rider when it had tracked the craftmage Rumpelstiltskin (her close friend whom she and Evariste had found as a child and taken to the Luxi-Domus to be schooled in the ways of his magic), faced down the mad King Torgen over Verglas, and more.
Most recently—besides fighting the black mage—she’d been involved in a massive fight against a rogue mage named Carabosso who’d been threatening Princess Rosalinda of Sole.
He’d been captured, which was the one bright spot in all of this, as it was very likely Carabosso (who was a member of the Chosen) knew where Evariste was.
She kept walking down the dirt road, and just when she was contemplating turning off, the ground erupted in front of her.
Angelique leaped into the grassy ditch beside the road, her silver magic gathering at her fingertips as she formed a spell.
A green plant popped out of the ground. It swayed in the breeze before budding a paper flower.
The paper flower fell off the plant stalk, which promptly withered and died.
Angelique scooped the flower up, wrinkles spreading across her forehead. She recognized this magical method of message delivery. It was one of the most secure ways—the message trundled along underground until it found the person it was meant for—but it wasn’t used often because it required an exorbitant amount of magic to craft.
What could be so important that it required absolute secrecy?
Angelique reluctantly unfolded the folder, revealing a slanted script she recognized as belonging to Clovicus—Evariste’s former teacher, who frequently helped Angelique and acted as a liaison for her at the Veneno Conclave.
She tugged at the corners of the paper, straightening the creases as best she could.
Angelique,
Terrible news—Carabosso escaped.
Angelique felt as though her heart stopped beating, and her fingers turned so numb she almost dropped the letter.
A quick scan of the paper revealed the full story.
Carabosso had escaped custody of the Veneno Conclave mages charged with transporting him to the Veneno Conclave fortress when they were two days from the stronghold. Somehow, he’d undone the spells binding him and overpowered the war mage on watch duty before escaping into the night.
Angelique read it three times before the full meaning sank in.
Carabosso had escaped…before the Veneno Conclave had the chance to question him on Evariste’s whereabouts.
He was free and running around, again. And they had lost their only lead on Evariste and his kidnappers.
Angelique’s legs gave out, unable to hold her up in the fact of this bleak news. She fell face-first into the dusty, half-dead grass that was generously covered with leaves.
Five years. Evariste had been captured for over five years. She’d thought this time they’d finally uncover his location!
Angelique closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the dying grass as all her anguish pushed down on her back like a troll, and this new failure threatened to rip her apart from within.
I should have gone with the mages transporting Carabosso. No matter how nervous I make Blanche or how much Rein dislikes me, I should have gone.
Dimly, Angelique was aware that the Sole Royal family was going to be furious—the mages had taken custody of Carabosso in order to make up for their negligence and failure to help Sole earlier.
But she didn’t care.
It was too much. She’d gone through too much and had half-killed herself in the process of desperately trying to hold the continent together while the fearful leaders of the Veneno Conclave hid in their fortress and refused to dispatch more mages to help.
They needed Evariste. She needed him!
And now they were back to no leads and no hope of finding him.
Why does this keep happening? No matter what I do, I can’t seem to save him.
A dangerous sort of numb feeling spread through Angelique’s extremities. Vaguely, she wondered if she could just stay collapsed on the side of the road. No matter how she fought, she couldn’t free Evariste. Did any of it really matter anymore? Who would even care that she was gone?
Scratch that. As soon as a royal family needed something done, they’d miss me—or rather, they’d miss using me as their personal mage.
Angelique clenched her eyes shut as the heavy sensation of helplessness threatened to drown her.
With her face mashed into the ground as it was, she felt the faint thud of horse hooves before she heard the animal.
She knew it wasn’t Pegasus—the strides were too small and light.
I’ll just lie here. They’ll pass by without noticing me. No one sees me when I need help, only when they need my aid.
Angelique listlessly lay spread out, her eyes still closed as the horse slowed to a trot. The clip-clop of its hooves grew louder as it rounded the bend in the road.
She waited for the sound to pass her and move along, but the horse abruptly stopped, and there was a thud of someone—the rider—landing on the ground.