The mage grunted. “Sounds right. We were told you’d never last this long. Lady Liliane figured the mirror would chew you up right an’ finish you off fast. She’s been getting’ fair terse in her orders to us. It’s been months since you arrived, and not only are you still sulking and alive, but Princess Snow White is blithely runnin’ around.” He backed up a step so he could scowl up at the giant red ruby that was fixed on the top of the mirror’s frame. “Care to explain yourself, tool?”
“I follow the orders I am given.”
“Yeah, and you were sent to end the princess’ life and crush Mullberg with the insane queen. None of which has been accomplished—even though you’ve had years, and Lady Liliane gave you a pet enchanter to eat.”
“One enchanter’s magic is but a droplet compared to my potential. I need more.”
“You ain’t getting more until you actually do somethin!” The mage hawked a disgusting wad of phlegm and spat it on the mirror’s frame.
It grew dim inside the mirror. The endless stretch of brown-red swirled, becoming the bright, vivid red of fresh blood.
For a moment, the constant pain disappeared, giving Evariste the first moment of relief he’d experienced since being shut in the mirror.
Instead, his surroundings trembled with raw power—an unforgiving sensation which stretched on like the deepest abyss and threatened to swallow everything in its unending hunger.
Evariste’s limbs grew numb from the ancient power, and he felt the thump of his heart start to slow.
And still the mirror’s powers rolled on, smashing through Evariste.
He gasped as the foreign sensation ravaged through him. The mirror’s power was strange and horrible—unlike any powers Evariste had felt before in its disregard for anything alive. It would consume and destroy until nothing was left. It was forged to destroy, and although it could technically be bidden, it would bide its time until it could eradicate everything.
I assumed Liliane’s goal was to take over the continent and rule it—like the Chosen of the past. But the mirror wants to destroy everything—people, animals, even the land itself!
The mirror’s powers surged, wrapping around the Chosen mage—who laughed.
A moment passed as the mirror’s magic tightened, and the mage stopped laughing and swore instead. The old man turned on his heels and ran through the magic—spitting curses with every hop he took. He disappeared from sight, but Evariste could hear the thudfalls of his feet for several moments, and then the shattering of broken glass.
He must have escaped through a window.
Evariste forced himself to crouch, warily watching the red surroundings as the ground trembled. This is worse than the pain. This mirror…I hadn’t recognized just how evil it truly is.
Something howled—not the soulful song of a wolf, but the scream of the deranged threaded with the rumbles of the power hungry.
And then, abruptly, the blood-red color faded back to a rusty shade, the ground stopped shaking, and all hints of the mirror’s power faded.
Evariste had only a moment’s breath before the pain slammed into him—fresh and multi-hued—as the mirror returned to feeding on him.
He collapsed, struggling to breathe.
But even with all the pain from the mirror dredging his magic through his body, the terror of the mirror’s powers made a horrific enough impression that a single thought still rang through Evariste’s mind, despite the agony.
How can we beat something this powerful, this old, and this terrifying?
Chapter 9
Angelique had visited Prince Severin and Princess Elle at Chanceux Chateau enough times that—dare she say it—she knew what to expect.
And this…this was not it.
Angelique felt like an owl as she swiveled in the saddle, trying to look at the sea of soldiers that surrounded them.
They’d started running into wagons and pack animals about a mile from the chateau’s massive gates, and the closer they got to the chateau, the more soldiers, equipment, horses, and weapons they found.
On one side of the road, several soldiers were loading what looked like crates of food into a wagon, while on the opposite side, four officers had a map pulled out between them and were talking and gesturing to it—though they stopped long enough to bow to Angelique and Quinn.
Beyond them—standing at attention on the chateau’s snow-covered lawn—were rows upon rows of soldiers checking their gear and seemingly preparing for muster.
“Is there a fight we are unaware of?” Quinn asked blithely. Fluffy tossed his head, and she casually patted his neck as they pranced past a squad of calvary soldiers and their mounts that were fitted in warm, winter gear.
“Not that I’ve heard.” Angelique settled back in the saddle as they rode farther down the chateau’s driveway. “Severin is likely taking some of his troops to a different country.”
Satisfied with the lackluster answer, Quinn casually smiled and nodded to any soldier or worker who met her eyes after scrutinizing Fluffy’s unique appearance. “He sounds like a sensible prince.”
“He is,” Angelique agreed. “I’m quite confident you’ll like him—and his wife.”
The drive funneled them into a courtyard that stretched in front of the main entrance to the chateau and had a convenient path to the cozy stables.
Angelique dropped her reins—they were mostly for show anyway since Pegasus went where he liked—and used her pointer fingers to prod her most likely red-with-the-cold cheeks.
Winter had finally arrived in earnest. The snow was only knuckle deep, but the wind that howled across the snowy lawn had a frigid bite to it.
Just short of the few steps that led into the main entrance, Angelique wriggled off Pegasus’ back, landing with a wobble. Quinn slid off Fluffy in much the same way. Stablehands approached—including Oliver, whom Angelique had known since he was a boy and now was nearly an adult, which slightly traumatized her.
“Lady Enchantress!” He had to shout to be heard above the whistling wind. “Welcome back to Chanceux Chateau. Can the lads and I care for your steeds?”
“We would appreciate that. Thank you, Oliver.” Angelique held onto the braid of her hair with one hand to keep it from smacking her in the face from the strength of the wind as she tried to smile.
Oliver took Pegasus’s reins with more confidence than any person besides Angelique had displayed towards the constellation—though Pegasus clearly recognized him, judging by the way he smacked his muzzle into Oliver’s face in a “friendly” manner.
Oliver had ridden Pegasus—with Angelique—so he just laughed before patting Pegasus’ star-studded shoulder.
His fellow stablehand was slower to approach Quinn and Fluffy. The servant fiddled with her hat as she squinted at Fluffy with great confusion.
“Might I inquire what your…beautiful steed is, mademoiselle?” the stablehand asked Quinn.
Quinn thoughtfully peered up at her borrowed mount. “I’m not sure. But he’s from the elves.”
“Ah,” the stablehand said.
The main doors burst open, and Severin—dressed in a fur-lined cloak with a heavy hood and thick gloves, strode into the wintery air without even a grimace.