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.
Angelique had come across curses that stole one’s mind—the Arcainian princes and Prince Severin had all been cursed with the mind of beasts during their initial transformations until Angelique altered the curses.
But fits of rage, nightmares, and the inability to remember what one has done? All of that is too subtle and shadowy. Curses work within rules and boundaries. This seems like a slow invasion.
“Faina hadn’t told me just how bad it was getting until today,” Snow White continued. “I knew she was feeling unwell, and her outbursts were so unlike her, but…” She lifted her hand in appeasement, saying sorry to her stepmother who wasn’t there.
“S-she told me I needed to imprison her,” Princess Snow White abruptly continued. “I wouldn’t. So she sent me to Hurra, where soldiers are waiting to escort me to my maternal grandfather’s lands in Trubsinn.”
“And yet we’re standing in Luster Forest.” Angelique thought the comment might get something besides misery out of the dark-haired princess, but instead more tears clogged her eyes.
“I fled. I read a letter Faina meant for me to give to Grandfather, and she asked him to march on Juwel with his soldiers and kill her. Because she’d tried, but whatever has her won’t let her harm or imprison herself.” She was crying again, and Angelique didn’t blame her.
It has to be black magic. But what kind—and how could it possibly reach the Queen of Mullberg in her protected palace? It’s not like the Chosen can freely skulk through there. The city, perhaps, but the palace? Not likely—unless they are undercover? But in recent years, the Chosen usually use curses and spells to do their dirty work. They don’t seem to send mages in to directly supervise.
But Quinn and I did see the guard rotation heading into the city…
“Have there been any attacks—or break-ins—at the palace?” Angelique asked.
Princess Snow White miserably shook her head. “No.”
“I’m not talking recently—stretching back years ago. Since before Queen Faina started getting these headaches,” Angelique said.
Snow White shook her head. “The only dark spot we’ve had in Glitzern Palace for years was the hunting accident that took my Father’s life six years ago.”
“Ahh, yes.” Angelique bit her cheek as she poked at everything the princess had told her.
Six years ago. That was the same year Queen Ingrid died—which seems suspicious. Did the Chosen eliminate Snow White’s father because they thought they couldn’t manipulate him? If that’s true, why did it take them so long to act on Faina? Though Snow White said the headaches have been going on for years, but the outbursts are quite recent…
“I can’t let Faina be harmed,” Princess Snow White said. Though her eyes were still watery, her expression was unflinching. “I won’t. That’s why I left Hurra—to look for help.”
Snow White stood up straighter and looked around the woods—which had darkened over the course of their conversation as the sun assumedly set, pitching the forest in black. “In a meeting with the royal cabinet, I’d heard the Seven Warriors lived here in Luster Forest. They’re men who have fought to protect Mullberg from monster attacks.” She