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Wybert nodded. “The goblin brute didn’t stab me, just cut across the top.”

  Silver magic covered Angelique’s fingers as she pressed against his shoulder, transferring the spell to his injury. “This is a slow-burn healing spell, so it’s not instantly going to knit up your wound, but you should be right in a day or two. I added a cleansing spell as part of it, but you’ll want to wash and dress the wound like normal once you return to Boyne—that is, assuming you still live there.”

  “I do.”

  Angelique funneled more of her magic into the spell, trying to make it more potent. She’d gotten better at healing spells out of sheer necessity since Evariste was taken, but she still didn’t have the finesse and abilities that mages with healing magic as their core magic possessed.

  She nodded in satisfaction after a few more minutes. “There. That should do the trick.” She offered Wybert another bright smile but was distracted when something tugged at her skirts.

  She looked down to find Wybert’s little boy—who looked perhaps eight-years-old—peering up at her.

  “Are you really Lady Enchantress Angelique?” he skeptically asked.

  Angelique slapped her smile back on. “Yes.”

  His shoulders went so lax, the boy tottered for a step. “Then that means you’re here to rescue us?”

  Angelique glanced from the boy to his father. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

  “The forests of Farset have been plagued by monsters.” Wybert stood and subtly rolled his shoulders, testing out the healing spell, probably. “We’ve seen a number of wraiths in the area, but there have also been trolls and some goblins.” He gestured to the fallen trees behind him.

  “Everyone’s real scared,” the little boy said.

  Wybert placed a hand on his son’s head and smiled down at him as his daughter leaned into his legs. “The army is patrolling a lot more. They’re doing an amazing job at great personal risk, and they catch most of them, but sometimes it takes time for the bands to track them down. A village or two has been caught in the crossfire during the wait, and travelers have to be extra cautious,” he vaguely said with a purposeful glance down at his daughter.

  Angelique frowned. “How bad is it?”

  Wybert pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly.

  Obviously, he didn’t want to say anything that would frighten his kids, but the tight expression on his face was enough for Angelique to get the gist.

  Things were bad.

  Angelique tilted her head back and stared at the forest canopy, gazing unseeingly at tall pine trees whose fragrant needles scented the air.

  If it’s so bad the army can’t handle it even with extra patrols— Angelique mentally cut the thought short. She was tired and exhausted. Could she really handle taking on more? But I’m going to be here anyway as I shout at King Themerysaldi-the-deaf. I could do my own patrols between shouting sessions.

  The thought made the muscles between her shoulders ache, and a headache threatened to settle behind her eyes.

  Wybert’s son stepped closer to Angelique and stared up at her with big eyes full of hope. “But you’ll help us, won’t you, Lady Enchantress?”

  Angelique smiled and pushed her weariness to the back of her mind. “Of course, I’ll help,” she promised.

  A sunny smile bloomed on the little boy’s face, revealing his missing front tooth. “I knew it!” His smile turned bashful, and he ran back to his father’s side.

  “Your help would be a godsend, Lady Enchantress,” Wybert said. “We haven’t seen mages in these parts for quite a while, and with the elves not leaving their woods…” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking older than he should.

  “Then it seems my timing was perfect—both in finding you and in arriving here just when I could help.” Angelique gave the children her best enchantress smile, prodding grins from both of them—even the shy little girl. “And I’ll begin by escorting you back to Boyne.”

  “Thank you, Lady Enchantress.” Wybert bowed to her. “You are as good and kind as ever.”

  Angelique winced a little—she was so tired and cranky she didn’t feel good or kind. But when there were wraiths and trolls rampaging about, good manners hardly mattered anymore, as long as she did what had to be done.

  “You’re very welcome. It is my honor and duty.” Angelique’s smile turned mischievous, and she held out her hand to the little boy, who took it. “Now, Wybert, please do tell: have you seen any wolves recently?”

  Wybert guffawed as he turned in the direction of Boyne. “Please, allow me to tell you the greatest irony of my life that has made me the manager of most of Boyne’s domesticated animals…”

  Weeks passed, and while Angelique didn’t come to regret her decision to help annihilate monsters in the area, with each passing day, she was just a little more irked and a little more exhausted.

  Individually, the fights weren’t difficult or taxing—what was a pack of goblins or even three to four trolls compared to black mages and wyverns? It was more the endlessness of her task that caused her pain and added to her exhaustion. For every foe she vanquished, another took its place. She was always moving, always fighting, always shouting into the void of a dreadfully quiet forest.

  To make it more challenging, she had to be stealthy in her fights. She couldn’t afford to let any soldiers see her, or they would doubtlessly invite her back to speak to King Dirth without giving her the opportunity to politely refuse. And meeting the King of Farset was the last thing she wanted to do—since his daughters were hale enough during the day, there was no way she was going to intervene in their curse, something the king would undoubtedly request of her.

  No, she was set on meeting with King Themerysaldi, even if she had to camp out on the border and wait for Odette’s delivery to do so. Since Carabosso had disappeared without a trace, the Elf King—once freed from his curse—was her greatest chance of finding Evariste, and she was going to prioritize freeing him, even if it was selfish of her.

  But as days turned into weeks and she saw no sign of the elves—much less their king—the grief that had settled deep in her heart bordered on turning into cynicism.

  The days turned colder as winter threatened to encroach on fall, and the trees lost most of their leaves.

  Angelique sat on a stump and stared into Alabaster Forest, aware she looked downright disreputable. Oh, her color-changing dress and its sparkling hues were unscathed, but the dark cloak she had wrapped around her shoulders was spattered with mud from a morning fight with a swamp troll, and her hair was half-pulled out of the braid she’d tamed it into that morning—a victim of running top speed through the forest while trying to lure about twelve wraiths away from a merchant and his cart.

  Should I even bother calling out? However the elves are cursed, they obviously must not be able to respond. I’ve been screaming myself hoarse for days traveling up and down their border, and there’s not even a sign of them.

  I cannot think that if they knew I was here they wouldn’t respond, or that they are so lackadaisical and carefree, they just haven’t bothered to check.

  It must, then, be beyond their abilities.

  If so, does that mean I would do better to spend my time tracking down more foes? Odette’s handoff should be within the next two weeks—I think—so I don’t have too long to wait.

  Angelique froze when she heard the faint, murmuring tones of voices.

  She perked with both interest and concern. Who—besides her—would be squatting on the border of the elves’ territory?

  Entering their forest without their permission was prohibited, and obviously their permission could not be granted due to their sequestering. What reason, then, would bring someone there?

  I doubt it’s good intentions; that much is for certain.

  Angelique slid off her stump and stole her way through the forest, going for stealth over speed as she followed the sounds of talking.

  The voices were animated and light-hearted—whoever
they were, they obviously weren’t trying to hide their presence—so Angelique took her time in her approach, particularly because the closer she got, the more it seemed like she recognized one of the voices.

  She circled around the talkers once she pinpointed the location they were coming from and nudged aside a scratchy pine branch so she could peer at them.

  It was a man and a woman—and a fine, chestnut-colored horse.

  The woman had her back to Angelique, which meant she couldn’t make out more than blonde hair pulled back in a tight braid and breeches and a thick shirt in muted greens and browns that made her meld into the forest. She was quite tall, and there was something familiar about her.

  She was fussing with her saddle’s stirrups but presently finished and moved to join her companion in standing near the horse’s head. “Isn’t that the most important reason for my presence?” she said.

  Angelique tried to place the woman and her voice but, in finding she couldn’t, shifted her attention to the male companion.

  Most curiously, he had on a white mask that covered his entire face, and Angelique thought he emanated a faint whiff of magic. Raven-black hair topped his tall, broad-shouldered male frame, which was clothed in breeches, a midnight blue over-jacket, and a pale blue undershirt.

  Those colors Angelique was greatly familiar with, as they were the colors of King Themerysaldi. But it wasn’t until the man spoke that it dawned on Angelique just whom she was seeing.

  “It is important,” the male companion agreed, his voice cutting through Angelique with the ease of a sword. “But can’t I be glad…”

  The woman said something in response, but Angelique didn’t hear it; she was too busy gaping in shock. She knew that voice! The masked man was none other than Themerysaldi!

  Chapter 4

  What was he doing here, so casually speaking to someone when Angelique had spent weeks screaming her throat raw? She was so frozen in shock that she dazedly watched the conversation play out, barely able to believe her eyes.

  “Sometimes you are too nice,” the woman said.

  King Themerysaldi snorted. “I’m as nice as an injured bear.” He lifted his right hand. “I just…value you.”

  Angelique’s shock took on new depths—and more than a little rage.

  King Themerysaldi is standing here on the border…FLIRTING?!

  The Elf King reached out to tug a loose strand of hair that had fallen from his companion’s braid, and Angelique saw red.

  Evariste was rotting in the clutches of black mages, and his best friend—one of the most powerful beings on the continent—was courting?

  I’m going to kill him, Angelique thought clearly. Without any kind of regret. And only after I rip that stupid mask off his face and repeatedly pummel him.

  “Quinn,” the doltish—selfish—Elf King took a step closer to his companion. “I—”

  “YOU!” Angelique exploded from her hiding place. She pointed an accusing finger at Emerys and was marginally tempted to lace it with magic, though she knew the Elf King could trounce her in his sleep. “You useless dolt!”

  “Angelique?” Themerysaldi had the gall to sound surprised.

  Angelique gritted her teeth and curled her hands into fists to keep herself from jumping across the border and shaking him. “I have been searching this stupid border for days looking for you! I assumed you would be eager to test the limits of your curse and try to free yourself, but instead I find you flirting awkwardly with THIS!” Angelique swiveled to pour her spiteful gaze out on the object of Themerysaldi’s affection, but that was when she finally placed the kind face matched with the military-esque bearings of the woman. “Oh, you’re the soldier from the road.”

  All dislike for the woman was immediately extinguished—Quinn of Midnight Lake had been the first kind person Angelique had encountered in ages, which bought her a lifetime of goodwill. “Well, you I still like. But you!” Angelique whirled her attention back to Emerys with a killing intent.

  Themerysaldi slightly bowed his head. “I’m glad to see you too, Angelique.”

  Angelique took a deep breath so she wouldn’t scream insults at the Elf King.

  “How did you find us?” Quinn asked.

  “Through your talking. I’d recognize His Majesty’s stupid, smug, self-satisfied voice anywhere,” Angelique snarled.

  “You’ve dropped the act finally, have you?” Due to his mask, Themerysaldi’s expression was covered, but she could hear self-satisfaction in his voice as he turned back to Quinn. “She always pretended to be this meek and quiet thing. She stammered and blushed like mad whenever anyone talked to her and always acted like those tranquil yet bossy enchantresses you hear about in the stories, but I knew she had to have hidden fire. You can’t have her magic of—”

  He was going to blab about her magic?

  Oh, no you don’t, you selfish princeling.

  She couldn’t lunge at him—she wasn’t so stupid as to break that law in her anger—but she scooped up a small rock and threw it with all her rage. The rock passed so close to the nose of Themerysaldi’s mask, it whistled.

  When the Elf King finally looked in her direction, Angelique’s face was cold with her resentment. “Not a word,” she ordered, not caring if it was faux pas to give a monarch an order.

  For the first time, she could feel Emerys’s preoccupation with Quinn settle as his posture returned to something more royal. “Angelique, you’ll have to get over it one day. Your magic isn’t something you can deny.”

  Angelique had a great many words she wished to exchange with the Elf King. None of them, however, involved her magic. So it was with a hollow, emotionless voice that she repeated, “Not a word.”

  For the first time since Angelique had met him, the Elf King backed down. “Right.” He rubbed the back of his head. “So, why are you standing in the human woods?”

  Angelique’s shoulders hunched as her emotions cooled from a deep rage to simple hostility. “Because I’m not an elf-friend, so I can’t just stroll in whenever I like!”

  Maddeningly, Emerys snapped his fingers and declared in a bright voice, “That’s right! I forgot about that.”

  He seems inept enough from his infatuation with Quinn that I’m fairly certain I could throw another rock and nail him in the throat. It wouldn’t do lasting damage, but it would do a great deal in making me feel better.

  Quinn must have sensed Angelique’s murderous thoughts. The kind soldier put her hand on Emerys’ arm. “Emerys. The Lady Enchantress has been through a lot. Stop playing games.”

  Angelique peeled her gaze from Emerys to Quinn, feeling such gratitude for the other woman, she probably could have cried again.

  That settled it: Quinn wasn’t a soldier; she was a saint.

  Emerys shifted his weight, appearing guilty—though Angelique couldn’t read much of his emotions with that stupid mask on. “Right. Sorry, Angelique. Please enter Alabaster Forest. As the King of the Elves, I offer shelter and safe haven to you as long as you should need it.”

  Angelique blinked back the possibility of tears that stung her eyes and traipsed into Alabaster Forest before Emerys could rescind his invitation.

  Quinn gave her a warm smile that did a lot for the good of Angelique’s soul. “Come. We can talk as we walk to Sideralis.” She tugged on her horse’s reins and motioned for Angelique to fall into step with her.

  “Thank you.” Angelique took in a deep breath and did her best to adopt a more peaceful attitude—for Quinn’s sake. Certainly not for the sake of the selfish, stand-offish—she stopped her inner tirade and smiled at Quinn. “And…could you explain to me how the two of you came to be friends? I fear I am rather ignorant of the goings-on of Alabaster Forest.”

  Walking through Sideralis was both comforting and disconcerting. It took Angelique the entire walk to the palace before she started to pinpoint the issue.

  The city—which was normally bustling with elves—was quiet. Oh, there were a few elves out and about
. But they seemed tired and their usual elegant steps dragged. Even the few elf children Angelique saw staggered as they followed their parents into their tall and narrow homes.

  Physically speaking, Sideralis looked the same. The river still flowed down the center of the city as beautiful bridges arched over it, crisscrossing in ornate patterns. Homes that were decorated with glass and spires that were welded to resemble stars and animals glittered in the anemic sunlight from the protective resin coating all elf houses were painted with.

  It was untouched by time—flawless and as wild as the immense trees that surrounded the city. But the air was so hushed, it was almost smothering.

  Is it part of their curse? Angelique almost snorted. Or, it could very well be the low morale that comes with living in a curse for years upon years. Sometimes I can be a dolt.

  She shook her head as she stepped through a side entrance of the palace.

  “I’ll call for tea, but do you want to freshen up first?” Themerysaldi asked, his voice slightly muffled by his mask.

  Angelique frowned. “Freshen up?”

  “You look wild,” the Elf King said. “And very untidy.”

  “Go take a swan dive off a tree,” Angelique snarled.

  “Temper, temper!” Themerysaldi tut-tutted.

  “Please excuse Emerys,” Quinn said. “He’s spent some time shape-shifting into a variety of animals lately. It seems the beast-like habits have stayed with him as a result.”

  Themerysaldi tilted his head. “Are you implying I’m acting like an animal?”

  Quinn raised her eyebrows. “I was going for outright calling you an animal, but if you think I was implying, perhaps I need to be more obvious.”

  A muscle in Angelique’s cheek twitched as she watched the Elf King.

  He’s been sitting around his woods for years, seemingly in high spirits, and is apparently having a fine time flirting. Has this been fun for him?

  “I believe I will take a moment to…collect myself.” Although she tried to keep her voice even, her words came out tight as she spat them out between clenched teeth.