it is true. Having your magic forcibly pulled from you is a very painful experience, one I hope you never have to experience,” Evariste said. “But I can see how pain has left its own mark on you.”
The statement surprised her.
How has pain left a mark on me? I’m far more exhausted than I ever was, yes, but while it’s been difficult without Evariste, I don’t know that I experienced much physical pain.
To avoid answering, Angelique tugged him into a sitting room, which had glass doors that opened up into an outdoor balcony.
It seemed the sitting room had seen some of the action in the battle against the constructs. Goose feathers spilled from ripped, velvet cushions; one of the thick drapes that covered the doors had been yanked off its curtain rod, and a glass figurine of some sort had fallen off a display table, shattering on the rug-covered floor.
Angelique held her bucket out and released her magic. It pounced on the glass, finding all the shards with a sharpened edge and pulling them into the air where they twinkled and glittered. She turned her magic so it dropped the glass shards in the bucket and then released it.
“I’m not sure what you mean by pain leaving a mark on me,” Angelique said. “I don’t know that I’ve aged at all since you…”
“I didn’t mean a physical mark per se.” Evariste opened the door and stepped outside.
The sun was sinking on the horizon. It wasn’t sunset yet, but the crimson gold haze backlit the mountains that were turning blue with the fading light.
They were on the second floor of the palace—which afforded them an excellent view of the courtyard that burrowed between the palace and its short protective wall. Beyond the wall stretched the city of Juwel, which glittered in the afternoon light.
“If not a physical mark, then what?” Angelique prompted.
Evariste set his free hand down on the palace’s stone wall and ran his fingers across the worn rock.
He’s starved for sensations, Angelique realized. Sights, the way things feel…
“It’s the way you move,” he said almost absently. “You’re expecting a fight. And while I’m glad you’ve mastered your magic more than I ever hoped for, the fact that it was necessary brings me great regret. I wish I could have spared you the fight.”
Angelique listened thoughtfully, shivering when the wind swept through the courtyard. Although it was no longer winter, it was chilly, and the wind had a frigid bite to it. She glanced at Evariste, but he didn’t seem to notice. He stood, taken with the beauty of the sky.
“Even if you’d been with me, it would have been a fight. The Chosen…they’re like a disease, silently spreading everywhere before any of us knew what happened.” She set her bucket down so she could paw through a pocket sewn to the interior of her cloak and find the flame-shaped jewel spelled with a heat charm that Stil had given her when she stocked up at Chanceux with Quinn.
She whispered to it—waking its magic—then tucked it between hers and Evariste’s clasped palms.
“Perhaps, but I think the most telling mark of your pain is that there is not a single mage here with you.” Evariste looked away from the sunset and settled his mismatched eyes—the left being a beautiful shade of forest green while the right was a breathtaking blue—on her face. “And that you haven’t suggested we notify another mage that I have been freed.”
Angelique opened her mouth and tried to find a reply—one that wouldn’t sound as bitter as she felt towards the rest of the mages from the Conclave—but couldn’t say anything at all.
Evariste tugged her so they stood face-to-face, then took her free hand in his and squeezed. “Whatever they did to you, I’ll make sure it’s over. Whether it was the Council, your old instructors—we’ll handle it.”
Angelique slightly shook her head. “How do you have the strength to do this?”
Evariste blinked. “Do what?”
“This!” Angelique tried to gesture with her hands, but Evariste still held both so it was more of a flopping motion. “Offer to help me when you’ve been in what I imagine is immeasurable pain—for months!”
Evariste’s expression was unreadable. “Because you’re important to me.”
For one panicked moment, Angelique thought of dream-but-actually-real-Evariste before she successfully shoved the memory away. No, it’s the same for me. I kept searching for Evariste no matter how exhausted I was because I care about him. And I never had the chance to tell him…
The thought brought back the memory