Pegasus was nowhere to be seen—apparently he at least had the decency to remain hidden. But the young lady was silent as she peered at Angelique.
She’d gotten up faster than Angelique had and was clutching a thick branch like a club. As Angelique watched, some of the tension in her stance faded, and the branch fell from her loosened fingers.
Angelique cocked her head. “Are you hurt or something? Or do you just not talk?”
Stars above, I hope it’s not the latter. That’s a sure sign she’s cursed—and given that she’s alone, wandering in the woods at night, my chances that she’s a normal peasant girl are already very slim. Unless…is she a Chosen? No, I’d be able to sense if she had magic.
Angelique tugged her satchel and thrust a hand inside, feeling around until her fingers scraped across a crystal-like surface. She pulled out a starfire crystal and held it above her head. “Shine.”
The crystal shed a steady white light, brightening up the gloom of the forest and illuminating the young lady’s pretty features.
Her thick, black hair was arranged in a beautiful braid, and the cut and design of her dress—a dark blue with fancy embroidery, slightly puffed sleeves at the elbow, and layers of skirts—and her brilliant red cloak marked her out as wealthy, likely a noble.
But it was the lady’s luminous blue eyes that were widened with surprise, her delicate nose, and her creamy white skin that made Angelique stiffen up.
She’d seen this face painted on a portrait in a number of taverns and inns she’d visited since arriving in Mullberg and had heard the country’s citizens drone on about her intelligence and kindness with great pride. There was no mistaking it. This young lady—alone and in the forest—was Princess Snow White of Mullberg.
That’s it. She’s definitely cursed.
Every muscle in Angelique’s body tensed up. “You’re the Mullberg Princess, Snow White.”
Princess Snow White’s eyes widened with shock, and she staggered backwards as if Angelique had pushed her. “No, I’m…” she cringed and looked down at her feet. “Not.”
Angelique squinted at the princess—her joy at running through the forest with Pegasus a distant memory now. “You are Princess Snow White. No sense hiding it. Unless…” Angelique tapped her magic and meticulously studied the princess.
But the heavens—for possibly the first time in her life—smiled down upon Angelique, and there was not a spot of magic to be seen on Snow White.
Still…
“You aren’t cursed, are you?” Angelique suspiciously asked.
The princess blinked her vivid blue eyes. “Cursed?”
Lulled into relaxing by the princess’ obvious confusion, Angelique let her shoulders settle back down so she wasn’t puffed up like a spitting cat. “Do you have to kiss your true love to avoid some sort of dire—and stupid—consequence?”
Snow White shook her head.
Afraid to hope, Angelique leaned back, trying to study the princess from a different angle. “You weren’t cursed by an evil mage, or sorcerer, or witch…were you?”
“No.”
Angelique closed her eyes and slapped her hands together in a makeshift prayer position. “I ought to sing a hymn or something. This is a first for me in a long time. A princess who is not cursed, how wonderful—wait.” Angelique popped her eyes open and brandished the starfire again. “If you’re not cursed, why are you—a princess—running around a forest at night?”
The princess—who was probably quite beautiful when her blue eyes weren’t widened with unease and every one of her gestures spoke of fear—backed up a step. “Who are you?”
Angelique scratched her chin. Ah. That’s right. I don’t look like an enchantress, which means I won’t have people thrusting their problems on me. I should have gone in disguise like this ages ago!
“Fair enough of a question, I guess,” Angelique said. “I’m Angel. I’m an apprentice to an herb wizard. See?” Angelique pointed to the dried herbs on her satchel as proof, then stuck her hand out for the princess to shake.
Princess Snow White proved herself worthy of all the pride her citizens took in her as she cautiously took Angelique’s hand in a soft but warm grasp. “How do you do, Angel?”
“I was doing a lot better before I found you. But now you know I’m a minor magic user, so spill it.” Angelique rested her hands on her hips and hoped the princess’s problems were minor. She had to have problems because princesses did not wander alone in the forest, with the exception of Elle and Gabrielle…and soon Quinn and Odette when they married.
Okay. Maybe princesses do wander alone in forests. But I doubt this one does.
To the princess’s credit, she studied Angelique—not with fear, but with caution as her eyes flicked from Angelique’s face, to her herb-covered satchel, to the starfire she held in her hand.
After a few moments of silence, Snow White nodded. “My stepmother, that is, Queen Faina…” She trailed off, and tears started to fall from her eyes that now shone with misery.
Angelique sighed, and her irritation left her as fast as it had come, replaced with a deep sadness for whatever heartbreak the poor princess had encountered. “What is it?” she asked, finally letting her sympathy get the best of her.
Snow White rubbed her reddening nose, then stared at her hands with a lost expression. “Something is terribly wrong, and I’ve made it even worse.”
Ahh, yes. This sounds like the Chosen have been hard at work.
Angelique braced herself for the worst, then patted Snow White’s back. “What happened?”
“It’s m-my stepmother, Faina. She’s been sick for months—years, even—with terrible headaches. It started slow at the start…just every once in a while. But now it’s rare that she doesn’t have a headache. They’ve made her act different.” The Princess’ tongue occasionally got tied, but her voice was steady.
Angelique tensed again. “In what way?” Her voice was harder than necessary, but Princess Snow White was so consumed with her misery, she didn’t seem to notice.
“S-she tried to hurt me,” Princess Snow White said, a stammer briefly catching her tongue.
“Define hurt.”
“She said she wanted to kill me and eat my heart,” Snow White said.
“She what?”
“It wasn’t her!” Her stammer faded under the onslaught of her passion for her stepmother. “Faina would never hurt me. She seemed like an entirely different person, and she broke whatever it was before she could hurt me! But she said she’s had dark dreams, and she blacks out for hours and doesn’t remember what she’s done during that time.”
“What has been done to help her with these headaches and outbursts?” Angelique asked.
“She’s been prescribed teas and told to rest.” Snow White stared at the starfire crystal, a wrinkle of worry worming its way across her forehead. “She saw many physicians early when the headaches first appeared. But I’ve had a number of mages stop through. None of them could find anything wrong with her.”
That matters little. Who knows what level of mage the Veneno Conclave sent? And this reeks too much of magic to be a purely physical problem. But it doesn’t sound like any kind of curse I’ve heard.