Trial of Magic Read online

  Trial of Magic

  The Fairy Tale Enchantress Book 4

  K. M. Shea

  Contents

  Copyright

  Map of the Continent

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Afterword

  Other books by K. M. Shea

  About the Author

  TRIAL OF MAGIC

  Copyright © 2021 by K. M. Shea

  Cover Art by Deranged Doctor Design

  Edited by Jeri Larsen

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any number whatsoever without written permission of the author, except in the case of quotations embodied in articles and reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or historic events is entirely coincidental.

  www.kmshea.com

  Map of the Continent

  Chapter 1

  Angelique, enchantress-in-training and still technically a mere apprentice, sat on the back of Pegasus—the constellation—and wondered when her life had taken such an unexpected turn that she came to be arguing with a magic horse.

  “I know it’s early in the day,” she patiently said. “But I don’t want to push on any farther. We’re only a short walk from Alabaster Forest, so I’d like to stop and check the border.”

  Pegasus snorted and tossed his head.

  He didn’t say anything—the legendary equine of the sky had only spoken to her once, and it had made a…lasting…impression on her. But based on the way he pranced and the muscles in his neck bulged (making some of the stars shining in his coat twinkle), it was pretty clear he was unhappy with this response.

  “I know the original plan was to go home to Torrens,” Angelique said, keeping her voice pleasant—it wouldn’t do to further upset Pegasus. “But that was before the black mage I encountered in Zancara jumped me.”

  To be precise, he’d planned an ambush for her on the road, using soldiers as a distraction while he attacked her.

  Angelique had beaten him off by releasing her deadly core magic—which was a strain of war magic that allowed her to control anything with an edge. But to her frustration, the mage had still gotten away. Even worse, Angelique almost lost control of her tantalizing and terrifying magic as he fled.

  It was bad enough to have proof that she was a monster; no one would believe otherwise considering her incredibly powerful and blood-thirsty magic. What made the situation a failure so bitter that Angelique could taste it, however, was that the black mage knew the location of Lord Enchanter Evariste—Angelique’s teacher and friend, whom she’d been separated from for years, and whom she’d been traveling the continent in search of. Unfortunately, she was unable to get Evariste’s location out of the mage before he escaped.

  Angelique ignored the sudden lump in her throat and fussed with the black cloak, not for the sake of warmth, even though it was late autumn and the air had a cold bite to it. No, she wore the cloak for the sake of covering up the bright, ever-changing colors of her charmed dress. The last thing she wanted was to attract attention just now. With her luck, she’d stumble on someone with some kind of curse that involved love for the umpteenth time.

  She twitched the cloak again and focused on Pegasus.

  He was gnashing his teeth with obvious irritation, his ears pinned.

  “Yes, I know you’re mad about missing that fight. But it couldn’t be helped. I didn’t have time to call for you.” Angelique sank her fingers into his coat, ignoring the odd sensation his hair produced.

  As Pegasus was a constellation and not a true horse, his body was almost ethereal. His mane and tail consisted of flickering blue flames, and his body looked like night sky molded into the shape of a fearsome horse. Stars dotted his body, and a shooting star twitched across his cheek as he snorted red embers.

  “But that’s why I want to stop here instead of going home,” Angelique continued.

  Pegasus tucked his head so he could nibble on Angelique’s silk slipper poking out of the saddle stirrup.

  “I want to linger around the border of Alabaster Forest for a few days and see if I can catch sight of any elves.”

  If Angelique thought her reasoning might persuade Pegasus that stopping was for the best, she was sorely mistaken.

  Every muscle in his body tightened, and for a moment she worried he meant to rear and throw her when his back hunched oddly. But when he struck the dirt road with a hoof, producing a deafening thunderclap, she realized he meant to bolt from the area—with her still in the saddle on his back.

  A runaway horse might not be able to go very far, but Pegasus was no mere horse.

  He could cover great distances in mere minutes. A two-week trip by horseback would take just a few days when riding him.

  The flames of his mane burned brighter, and he snorted.

  Angelique hurriedly kicked her feet free of the stirrups and flung herself off his back before he could bolt.

  She flipped midair and tumbled, letting her shoulder take the brunt of the landing so she could roll with her momentum and pop to her feet. The roll was less glorious than it would have been if she was only wearing trousers and a shirt—the thick layers of her gorgeous dress and the flapping of her cloak skewed her balance a little.

  She untwisted the black cloak from her skirts so it fell back into place, hooking at her shoulder, and turned around to face Pegasus.

  He snorted at her and reared. His eerie trumpet was high pitched and more musical than a horse’s neigh, and blue fire engulfed his hooves as he declared his anger.

  Angelique scowled and put her hands on her hips. “I can see you’re upset, but I don’t understand why!”

  Pegasus tossed his head and snorted red sparks.

  “Yes, Odette is supposed to come in a few weeks for a delivery, and I could see the elves then, but when I agreed to wait it was before the black mage attacked me!”

  Pegasus trumpeted again and pranced a few steps south, toward Torrens, toward home.

  Angelique rubbed her face. “I just want to wait around for a few days to see if I can find anyone. Why is that so offensive? Do you need to return to the skies?”

  Pegasus pawed at the ground. The flames engulfing his hooves singed the grass but thankfully didn’t start a fire. He then turned his rear to Angelique so his body pointed in the direction of Torrens.

  Angelique mulishly folded her arms across her chest. “I don’t care what you want. I’m not going home tonight!”

  Pegasus whipped around faster than Angelique’s eyes could track.

  Usually, she was particularly bad at sensing magic. But now, Angelique could feel the dark, ancient, mag
ical presence she had felt only once before, when Pegasus had spoken to her.

  She froze, dwarfed by the sheer immensity of the power he allowed himself to radiate. He seemed bigger, and the area around him seemed to grow darker.

  As it surrounded her, Angelique had the dim feeling that Pegasus’ magic was as old as the foundations of the earth. She wasn’t certain, but she could feel it easing through her and into her bones.

  She inhaled shakily, and that seemed to break the spell.

  Pegasus planted his hindquarters and pivoted, then charged off down the dirt road, his hoofbeats creating deafening crashes as he left her behind, alone.

  Angelique rubbed her face as he left and tried to fight off the sensation of being abandoned.

  He’ll return once his anger subsides. He didn’t go back to the sky, so he’s still lurking nearby. The first human he sees will make him wrinkle his muzzle in displeasure, and then he’ll come back.

  She was certain of this. Mostly.

  Angelique sighed. Looks like I’ll have plenty of time to sit at the border of Alabaster Forest and hope the curse on the elves that keeps them secluded in their forest still lets them approach their border.

  She trudged down the road, following it a little longer before making the turn-off for the magical white woods.

  The king of the elves, Themerysaldi, was a close friend of Evariste. Angelique had tried contacting him shortly after Evariste had been taken by the Chosen—the long-lived league of black magic users who had tried to kidnap Angelique and had gotten Evariste instead when he stepped in front of a spell that had been aimed at her.

  King Themerysaldi hadn’t answered Angelique’s call for help, even though she’d screamed herself hoarse at the Alabaster Forest’s borders, unable to venture into elven territory without Evariste—his status as an elf-friend giving him entrance without the elves’ permission.

  Angelique now knew the elves’ absence was due to King Themerysaldi and his people having been cursed—such a surprise. Odette, one of the many new acquaintances Angelique had made that had at one time or another been cursed, had told her as much.

  Even though it was weeks before she was supposed to meet Odette, who made occasional deliveries for the elves and was allowed in the woods during those scheduled times, Angelique couldn’t help but hope she’d be able to reach the elves now and not have to wait for so many nights to pass.

  She didn’t know what else to do.

  She was frustrated that the black mage had slipped through her fingers and worried that perhaps everyone was right about her magic after all. It had reacted so smoothly, and the power she felt when wielding it was intoxicating.

  What she really wanted was to talk to Evariste.

  She missed him so much—she’d been missing him for years. But now she’d give anything to see his warm smile and to hear his musical voice while she told him all the horrible things she’d been through the past few years.

  But I can’t, because he’s captured, and I keep failing to find him, she stiffly reminded herself.

  King Themerysaldi was no Evariste. He had the ornery temperament of a donkey and lacked the usual social sense and polite manners of his kinsmen. But if he was freed of his curse, he’d be able to find Evariste. He was the king of the elves—one of the most powerful beings on the continent!

  So even though she was—hopefully—just a few weeks short of seeing him to request his help and to look into his curse, Angelique wanted to try one last time to establish contact with the elves.

  She kicked a rock down the road and flipped her hood up to cover her hair, mindful that her magic-sparked looks were almost as eye-catching as her dress.

  She could have put on a cloaking spell to ensure she didn’t catch anyone’s eye, but somehow that felt like cheating. Enchantresses—and enchanters—were supposed to help those in need.

  It was just that Angelique had encountered so many in need, she was two reeds shy of becoming a basket case.

  She had altered Prince Severin’s curse (which had given him the body and mind of a beast), fought a witch named Clotilde in the country of Arcainia, encountered a nightmare and its rider when it had tracked the craftmage Rumpelstiltskin (her close friend whom she and Evariste had found as a child and taken to the Luxi-Domus to be schooled in the ways of his magic), faced down the mad King Torgen over Verglas, and more.

  Most recently—besides fighting the black mage—she’d been involved in a massive fight against a rogue mage named Carabosso who’d been threatening Princess Rosalinda of Sole.

  He’d been captured, which was the one bright spot in all of this, as it was very likely Carabosso (who was a member of the Chosen) knew where Evariste was.

  She kept walking down the dirt road, and just when she was contemplating turning off, the ground erupted in front of her.

  Angelique leaped into the grassy ditch beside the road, her silver magic gathering at her fingertips as she formed a spell.

  A green plant popped out of the ground. It swayed in the breeze before budding a paper flower.

  The paper flower fell off the plant stalk, which promptly withered and died.

  Angelique scooped the flower up, wrinkles spreading across her forehead. She recognized this magical method of message delivery. It was one of the most secure ways—the message trundled along underground until it found the person it was meant for—but it wasn’t used often because it required an exorbitant amount of magic to craft.

  What could be so important that it required absolute secrecy?

  Angelique reluctantly unfolded the folder, revealing a slanted script she recognized as belonging to Clovicus—Evariste’s former teacher, who frequently helped Angelique and acted as a liaison for her at the Veneno Conclave.

  She tugged at the corners of the paper, straightening the creases as best she could.

  Angelique,

  Terrible news—Carabosso escaped.

  Angelique felt as though her heart stopped beating, and her fingers turned so numb she almost dropped the letter.

  A quick scan of the paper revealed the full story.

  Carabosso had escaped custody of the Veneno Conclave mages charged with transporting him to the Veneno Conclave fortress when they were two days from the stronghold. Somehow, he’d undone the spells binding him and overpowered the war mage on watch duty before escaping into the night.

  Angelique read it three times before the full meaning sank in.

  Carabosso had escaped…before the Veneno Conclave had the chance to question him on Evariste’s whereabouts.

  He was free and running around, again. And they had lost their only lead on Evariste and his kidnappers.

  Angelique’s legs gave out, unable to hold her up in the fact of this bleak news. She fell face-first into the dusty, half-dead grass that was generously covered with leaves.

  Five years. Evariste had been captured for over five years. She’d thought this time they’d finally uncover his location!

  Angelique closed her eyes and dug her fingers into the dying grass as all her anguish pushed down on her back like a troll, and this new failure threatened to rip her apart from within.

  I should have gone with the mages transporting Carabosso. No matter how nervous I make Blanche or how much Rein dislikes me, I should have gone.

  Dimly, Angelique was aware that the Sole Royal family was going to be furious—the mages had taken custody of Carabosso in order to make up for their negligence and failure to help Sole earlier.

  But she didn’t care.

  It was too much. She’d gone through too much and had half-killed herself in the process of desperately trying to hold the continent together while the fearful leaders of the Veneno Conclave hid in their fortress and refused to dispatch more mages to help.

  They needed Evariste. She needed him!

  And now they were back to no leads and no hope of finding him.

  Why does this keep happening? No matter what I do, I can’t seem to save him.

&nbs
p; A dangerous sort of numb feeling spread through Angelique’s extremities. Vaguely, she wondered if she could just stay collapsed on the side of the road. No matter how she fought, she couldn’t free Evariste. Did any of it really matter anymore? Who would even care that she was gone?

  Scratch that. As soon as a royal family needed something done, they’d miss me—or rather, they’d miss using me as their personal mage.

  Angelique clenched her eyes shut as the heavy sensation of helplessness threatened to drown her.

  With her face mashed into the ground as it was, she felt the faint thud of horse hooves before she heard the animal.

  She knew it wasn’t Pegasus—the strides were too small and light.

  I’ll just lie here. They’ll pass by without noticing me. No one sees me when I need help, only when they need my aid.

  Angelique listlessly lay spread out, her eyes still closed as the horse slowed to a trot. The clip-clop of its hooves grew louder as it rounded the bend in the road.

  She waited for the sound to pass her and move along, but the horse abruptly stopped, and there was a thud of someone—the rider—landing on the ground.

  “Hail there!” The rider was a woman—her voice pleasant and friendly.

  I guess I’m not going to get ignored after all. What are the chances the horse—or rider—is cursed?