“Here, please drink this.” The elf maiden bowed her head and held out the bottle. “This is a ginger-based tonic—it should help your stomach.”
“Thank you.” Angelique took the bottle and glanced back at Themerysaldi—who was carefully holding Quinn.
“What else can I get you?” the elf maiden asked. “Do you wish for refreshments?”
Angelique uncorked the bottle and took a swig of the brew—grateful the sharp taste of ginger washed away the rancid aftertaste of her price. “I’m fine—but thank you for thinking of me.” Angelique offered the elf maiden a smile, then slowly followed Themerysaldi, stopping every few feet to take another slug of the ginger drink—which settled her stomach the more she drank.
“Has anyone recovered enough to make a healing spell?” Themerysaldi asked as he carried Quinn up the steps and into the eaves of the castle.
“Not that I’ve found, but I’ll put another call out,” Alastryn grimly asked. “Where are you taking her?”
“To my bedroom.”
“Understood. I’ll see what other supplies we have—but I fear we’ve almost entirely run out of potions since we’ve been unable to restore our supplies.” Alastryn swiveled around and dashed up a different hallway.
Angelique silently followed behind the king as he tensely asked the retinue of elves chasing after him for additional supplies.
By the time he reached the room, only Angelique, the unconscious Quinn, and Themerysaldi remained.
He settled Quinn in his bed, carefully easing her down on the silken sheets as he took care not to jar her injured shoulder.
It took Angelique a few moments to recognize the hardened expression on the Elf King’s face as fright—his fingers were almost white with strain as he yanked blankets up around Quinn. The creases around the corners of his eyes were deep.
He’s worried.
Angelique finished off her ginger drink and was feeling remarkably better—well enough, in fact, to be snarky. “Hold this.” She chucked the empty bottle at the Elf King, then gracelessly plopped down on his bed and dragged herself across the covers so she sat next to Quinn.
When the Elf King wordlessly held the bottle, turning it endlessly over in his hands instead of saying something sarcastic and annoying as she had expected, Angelique knew without a shadow of a doubt that the proud Themerysaldi had lost his heart to Quinn.
Angelique gathered a silvery healing spell at her fingertips—this one stronger than the patch-job she’d done out on the battlefield—and slowly poured the magic onto Quinn’s shoulder. “She’s going to heal just fine.”
“She doesn’t look fine,” Themerysaldi prowled up and down the length of the bed like a caged wolf.
“It’s because she lost a lot of blood,” Angelique said. “Even magic can’t instantly replenish blood.” She waited just long enough for her magic to take hold before she gestured for the king to join her. “See? Her wound is already scabbed over and is closed up. She’s breathing easier. I’ll apply a few more healing spells, but by tomorrow afternoon, she’ll only have a few aches and stiffness left. As long as you don’t let her run outside for target practice for a few days, that is.”
Themerysaldi collapsed into an ornately carved wooden chair. He covered his eyes with his arm and clutched the empty bottle as tension visibly drained from his previously stiff frame. “Thank you, Angelique.”
Angelique glanced at him as she spun a little more of her deadly core magic into a warm healing spell. “Of course.”
She worked in silence for a few moments, and just as she wondered if she ought to ask the Elf King if he needed a healing spell—or at least a cup of tea—elves swarmed the room.
“Please allow us to assist you, Lady Enchantress.” Two elves—a male bearing a steaming tub of water and a female carrying bandages and towels—scurried up to the bed.
“Thank you.” Angelique looked up from Quinn’s shoulder just long enough to smile at them. “Another minute, and I’ll have her shoulder healed enough that you can clean her wound and wrap it.”
An elf dressed in leather jerkins and bearing a bow slipped into the room, stopped just short of Themerysaldi’s chair, and bowed.
“We have reports from the scouts,” she said. “Three packs of goblins had peeled off from the main army and started marching north—to the Farset capital, Navia, it is assumed—before the rest of the forces attacked us. Those packs are still moving north, but an alarm has already been raised in Navia. It seems the red rider and her horses are being sent out.”
Themerysaldi stood up and tapped the empty bottle on his thigh. “I think the humans will be able to take care of those forces, but send scouts to observe and help if necessary—and tell Cynbryn I’m sending him as an official envoy to King Dirth and Queen Orsina to explain what has happened.”
“Is that necessary?” The jerkin-wearing elf asked. “A number of important human officials were cursed with us—since the curse was broken, I imagine they will explain the situation. They were leaving for Navia when we elves left Brandy Crest to fight the goblins.”
“Perhaps, but given that the King’s twelve daughters were all cursed with us, I’d like to clean up any misunderstandings before they can form rather than let them fester,” Themerysaldi grimly said.
Smart. I know who I’m going to vote for to deal with all the stupid politicking in the alliance in the future. Hopefully it will annoy him, too!
Angelique stepped back and shook her hand out. “There—you can get started cleaning her wound. I’ll place another slow-burn healing spell on her once you finish.”
“Yes, Lady Enchantress!” The female elf dipped a soft cloth in the warm water and began to dab at the sticky blood on Quinn’s shoulder.
The male elf offered Angelique a hot, moist towel to wipe her hands on. She took it and gratefully cleaned her hands as she turned around to watch Themerysaldi and his scout.
“What other forces are near Alabaster Forest?” Themerysaldi asked. “Any wraiths or trolls?”
The scout shook her head. “No. But there is a second goblin army to the south—almost as large as the force Lady Angelique conquered.”
Themerysaldi narrowed his eyes. “We’ll have to gather a defensive force and ride out to fight them. Using ambush tactics, we should be able to pick off some of the forces before they reach us.”
The scout fidgeted nervously. “And what, then, after they reach us?”
Themerysaldi set Angelique’s empty bottle on a wooden dresser that was carved with an ivy design. “Then we hope that the red rider and the human forces can come south fast enough to help us. Begin preparing our force—”
“That won’t be necessary.” Angelique smoothed her skirts—more to sooth herself than because she at all cared about how she looked at the moment. “I’ll take care of the goblin forces.”
Themerysaldi flicked his dark eyes in her direction and inspected her from head to toe. “Can you wield that much magic so soon after already using such force?”
Angelique shrugged. “My price is uncomfortable to experience, but once I pay it, I recover quickly. Besides—do we really have a choice?”