Angelique glanced at the Snow Queen’s statue one last time before she left Jasper Circle.
She started funneling her magic, twisting it into spells.
If I work fast enough, I can throw out some traps and down the front lines. That will slow the goblins, and the longer we can delay their collision with our forces, the longer the elves will have to shoot them down.
Angelique tapped her fingers against her chin as she studied the open stretch of land in front of the elves—who were pressed against the trees for cover.
At least one hole. Maybe an ice field, too.
She started shaping the spells and fought to stave off the weighty impression that this wasn’t going to be enough.
She hesitated, holding an ice spell in her hands, and glanced at the closest elf.
The elf hurriedly tied up the long sleeves of her dress with shaking fingers, then counted her arrows.
All elves were taught basic combat and archery skills, but if Angelique wasn’t mistaken, the blonde-haired elf was the thoughtful handmaiden that had served Angelique tea—just the way she liked it—during her afternoon with Themerysaldi and Quinn.
She’s not a warrior. She won’t survive this.
Angelique swallowed, the thundering of her heart punctuated by the throbbing drums the goblins beat on as they marched closer and closer.
Angelique’s gaze flickered past the handmaiden to the other elves around her.
It was the same everywhere. Their eyes were glazed in fear, and their fingers shook as they tried to roll up their clothes and prepare for a battle they hadn’t been trained for. A few tried to use tiny flickers of magic, but they were so weak, it slipped between their fingers.
Themerysaldi is right. They will die.
Bobbing torches poked through the trees, and the goblin’s cackling laughter and shouts created a cacophony eclipsed only by the battering of their drums.
The line of torches extended farther up and down through the trees than Angelique could reasonably see.
How many are here? If I use spells, how many can I reasonably take down or stop?
She had a bad feeling that—if she wanted to prevent the total annihilation of the elves—the answer was not nearly enough.
Angelique clinically stared at the churning goblin forces. I’m faster and more capable than I used to be, but I have no hope of slinging enough spells to make a dent in these forces. If I use my core magic, just how many could I take down?
The thought made her lungs freeze, but it was inescapable: her magic was made for war.
Her stomach churned, and while she didn’t entirely stomp the thought down, she pushed it aside as she reluctantly moved to join Quinn, who was standing with a line of archers.
Angelique narrowed her eyes and tried to better estimate how many goblins marched through the forest. “This is impossible.” She shook her hair out, getting rid of the snow that had coated the locks. “How could the Chosen control this many goblins? Who has this kind of power?”
Themerysaldi had returned to Quinn’s other side, and he stared out at the goblins with a flinty frown. “I don’t know. But it seems they’ve been planning this for a long time.”
A long time…that seems to be a pattern with the Chosen. They’ve been preparing for centuries, and we’re always ten steps behind them. What other foul tricks have they prepared?
Lady Alastryn stood in front of a line of archers and hefted her bow. “We fight as one!”
Angelique was faintly aware of Themerysaldi and Quinn arguing—the Elf King wanted her to flee because of her injury.
But Angelique focused on the line of goblins. She was still on the brink of indecision.
Save everyone and use her core magic—which she knew she didn’t have full control over—or return to building her pitiful ice spell.
Guilt and concern swirled in her—if she lost herself to her magic, could Themerysaldi stop her?
Or perhaps, the real question is do I have the strength to stop myself? Because I’ve never fought on this scale before.
She watched as the first line of goblins broke through the trees, and she knew her answer.
Chapter 6
Sighing, Angelique dropped the ice spell. “Every time.”
Quinn had an arrow nocked in her bow and a goblin in her sights. “Pardon?”
“Every time I reach the end of my strength, I realize I don’t have a choice.” Angelique hopelessly stared at the goblins—not discouraged by their numbers, but knowing this battle was going to be irrefutable evidence of what she was. And unfortunately, the one person who had shown her the most kindness she had experienced in years was going to witness it.
Angelique rubbed the back of her neck. “I can’t let innocents die and walk away, even if I pay the price with my soul.” She offered Quinn a tight smile. “Thank you for your kindness, Quinn. I do hope this doesn’t change what you think of me, but if it does…I will understand.”
Angelique stepped away from the line of archers and felt the weight of her magic as it greedily flowed around her, tugging on her clothes and weaving through her hair, anxious to be used. Longing for it.
She swallowed, or tried to; her spit lodged in her throat halfway down.
“Angelique?” Themerysaldi called out to her.
Angelique considered several various rude gestures before settling on swatting her hand at the concerned monarch—even though he’d badly botched asking her for help, he hadn’t been wrong. “You’re getting your wish, Your Majesty,” she said, using the title as a shield of sorts. “Tell your people to stand down.”
She didn’t want to risk turning back and seeing the elves’ fright or Quinn’s concern, so she watched the goblins’ torches twinkle in the darkness of the night and cast orange hues on the gathering snow.
Reluctantly, Angelique released the illusion spell that made her appearance more acceptable, casting it off with a casual toss of the hand.
I don’t know how difficult this battle is going to be, and I can’t risk losing my concentration over an illusion spell.
She felt the illusions drop, making her taller, her facial features more angular, and letting her eyes settle into their true hue of silver.
The second line of goblins had cleared the trees by now.
Together, the two lines rushed across the meadow, souring the air with their terrible scent of rot and screaming so loudly, it made Angelique’s ears ring.
With narrowed eyes, Angelique was able to confirm her observation: green-skinned forest goblins scampered around the feet of the taller, gangly, mountain goblins. The cave goblins—most numerous and most stupid—shambled through the meadow with milky eyes glazed with bloodlust as they stumbled over each other.
The presence of all three kinds of goblins was another indication of the Chosen’s meddling. Goblins usually only operated in small packs, and they never intermingled or cooperated with their cousins.
Fear prodded the back of Angelique’s throat as she stared the goblins down.
If the Chosen can control goblins in this way, what else can they do?
Before the fear could take over, Angelique’s cold and painfully sharp magic cut through her, as frigid as ice in its desire to be used.
An over-eager goblin shot off an arrow that fell short of Angelique.
She glanced down at the arrow as she unraveled her core magic, struggling to keep a death grip on it while gathering enough to confront the vast army facing her down.