“But, how? I knew it was likely they were harvesting his magic but…can they really twist Evariste’s magic?” Angelique asked. “His core magic—his portals—won’t work in the presence of evil. They start to dismantle and shut down.”
“They didn’t curse us with death—just to remain in the Forest and for the warriors to be banished to wander outside,” Themerysaldi said. “If they had done something more drastic, I imagine you’d be correct, and they wouldn’t be able to abuse his powers.”
Angelique dropped all pretense of riding and let the reins slip from her numb fingers as she leaned back in the saddle and tried to process it. “You know…most of the recent curses I’ve come across haven’t been death spells or the like. Prince Severin was cursed to have the body and mind of a beast; the Arcainian princes were cursed to turn into swans—they’ve all had the potential to take out their targets, but none of them were outright deadly. Do you think it’s possible the Chosen have been using him to power all of their largest curses?”
“It’s most likely. You also said all of them have a weakness to romantic love—I’d say that’s another indicator it’s Evariste’s power they’re using.”
Angelique wrinkled her forehead. “Why?”
“His magic would force a loophole—as it did for our curse.”
“You said the key to breaking your curse didn’t involve romantic love,” Angelique said.
“You’re correct. It required an elf-friend —a personal friend to me—to shed their blood on the white throne in a moment of sacrifice.” Themerysaldi clenched his jaw and stared at the game trail they rode down.
“Ah. So that’s how Quinn got so injured?”
“Unfortunately,” he finished quietly.
Angelique studied the Elf King for a moment. She wanted to push for more information, but the exhausted king looked almost broken at the memory of Quinn’s sacrifice.
What would Evariste do? He’d cheer up his friend first, for certain.
Angelique awkwardly cleared her throat, then made a show of wrinkling her nose. “For all the Chosen’s planning and cunning, one would think they’d have recognized by now that Evariste’s magic makes the curse easily breakable using romantic love. Though I still don’t understand why it would be friendship for your curse and romantic love for every other curse. Do you know how much easier these curses would be if they all involved the power of friendship?”
“I suspect it has something to do with Evariste’s mental state,” Themerysaldi said.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” Angelique demanded. “Evariste isn’t sitting locked in a mirror flirting with sorceresses!”
Briefly, Angelique remembered the so-realistic-it-almost-felt-true string of dreams she’d had when chasing the wyvern in Kozlovka. Whether she was just suffering from exhaustion while chasing the wyvern, or whether her conscious was guiltily wondering if Evariste was dead, she’d dreamed of him for several brief nights.
He’d looked awful—pale, dull, and the bright light in his eyes was broken.
No. That was just a dream.
“I’m not getting involved because I’m fairly certain Evariste wouldn’t want me involved,” Themerysaldi said cryptically, interrupting Angelique’s grim memories.
She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” Themerysaldi looked down his nose at her—or rather he had to look up his nose, as Pegasus was larger than Pookie. “Except perhaps the Chosen are more intelligent than you suggest, and that’s why there haven’t been any new curses.”
“Maybe.” Thinking of Carabosso’s escape—which still brought a bitter taste to her mouth—she continued, “The black mages are certainly active enough that they must be doing something. And we haven’t even seen that magical mirror yet.”
She glanced down at Themerysaldi. “I assume you didn’t say anything earlier about Evariste because you couldn’t, since his magic was tied up in your curse?”
“Correct.”
Angelique nodded slowly.
“What will you do with this knowledge?” Themerysaldi asked.
“I’m not sure there’s much we can do—except double down on our goal to find him,” Angelique said.
“There is one additional takeaway one could conclude from this knowledge,” Themerysaldi said.
“What’s that?”
“If they aren’t using Evariste’s magic to forge curses anymore, they’ve got another trick they’re planning,” Themerysaldi said. “There’s no possible way that the Chosen—organized and prepared to an extent we can’t fathom—are letting him sit around uselessly. They must be using his magic to further their nefarious purposes in one way or another.”
“Probably, yes.” Angelique tried to swallow, but couldn’t. “We have to find him,” she whispered.
“We do,” Themerysaldi agreed. “If you and Quinn haven’t found him by the time I recover my soldiers, and my forces have enough time to regenerate their magic, I will ride with you. We will find him—even if we have to uncover the entire continent stone by stone.”
“Thank you, Themerysaldi.”
“Please. You are a friend to my people—finally. Call me Emerys.”
When they returned to Sideralis, Angelique looked in on the still-unconscious Quinn long enough to confirm she was improving and to renew the healing spells she’d placed on her. Emerys came in and made a big show of insisting on staying with Quinn, so Angelique willingly surrendered her to his loving—if not overly-protective—care, and returned to her room where she promptly passed out.
When she awoke, the sky was gold with sunset, the air was so crisp it blew out the haze left over from Angelique’s nap, and the courtyard was swimming with Farset troops.
Angelique leaned an elbow on her wooden windowsill and scrunched her nose. “Well. This is both a welcome and burdensome sight. I’ve managed to avoid visiting King Dirth and Queen Orsina even though they knew I was in the area, but with this many of their people around, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep that record going.”
She drummed her fingers on the windowsill and glanced down at her glowing, color changing dress—which, even among the beauty of the elves—would make her stick out.
But Evariste had this dress made for me as a gift. And for some reason that makes me reluctant to change it out just for a selfish desire to avoid a royal who is more-than-likely going to ask me to run magical errands for him.
Angelique pushed away from the window, crossed her room, and slipped outside into the hallway.
She was in her usual rooms in the guest wing—which was unfortunately on the other side of the palace from where Quinn was staying in Emerys’s rooms.
As she swept down the hallway, she considered putting on an invisibility charm to make it easier to sneak her way across the palace.
Unfortunately, she hadn’t made up her mind by the time she ambled down the stairs, popped out into the large atrium that made up the heart of the elven palace, and almost ran down a woman who was carrying a satchel filled with papers.