droplets that stung even through her clothes.
“You’re with the Chosen.” Angelique ignored the painful rain and instead picked out several polearms that were shorter and sturdier than a regular spear and perfect for impaling. “I’m not going to try to chat with you!”
Galendra’s face was pale, and her lips seemed slack with fear. “You’re trying to kill us!”
“Obviously. That’s the whole point!” Angelique put an extra burst of power on the polearms. She smiled in satisfaction when they punched through the cracked shields, making them disintegrate.
Actually, I’m trying to capture them for Severin to question. But I like them scared and sloppy.
“This is impossible!” Galendra hiccupped in her fear, and her voice was taut like a harp string.
Angelique released a round of arrows, but Lazare yanked the enchantress out of the way so the arrows uselessly pelted the roof.
Galendra didn’t seem to notice the narrowly-missed danger. Her eyes were hazed with fear as she gaped at Angelique. “You were raised so you wouldn’t do this! You were taught and punished so you’d never fight back!”
In years prior, that statement might have been enough to make Angelique’s heart sputter.
But she had lost countless fights to the Chosen and the black mages. Experience told her the only shot she had was to keep fighting.
She could evaluate her life later. Now, all that mattered was capturing them. So Angelique didn’t even blink, didn’t falter a step. Rather, she gritted her teeth and pulled all her weapons in, aiming them at the Council Members.
“We have to jump! Primrose!” Crest leaped off the side of the building, his fellow Chosen members jumping after him.
Angelique wasn’t able to change the direction of her weapons quite fast enough, so they pounded into the roof, punching through the ceiling with the potency of her magic.
She growled in frustration as Primrose caught Crest, Lazare, Galendra—who had to be yanked over the side by Lazare—and herself with strengthened ivy vines.
Lazare cast a large shield, which bubbled around them as Angelique threw more of her magic after them.
Angelique jumped over the side, falling so fast, her eyes teared up. At the last second, she threw a gust of wind below her, slowing her progress so she didn’t splat on the ground when she landed.
Once her eyes cleared, Angelique took a quick inventory of her surroundings.
They’d landed in an empty courtyard, which opened up into one of the main streets in the fortress—one that led towards Luxi-Domus, the Veneno Conclave’s academy of magic.
“Help!” Primrose shouted, her mask of motherly-worry sliding over her face. “Apprentice Angelique has given into the darkness of her magic—she’s attacking us!” She ran out of the courtyard, her cohorts on her heels.
Angelique cursed under her breath as she chased after them. She shouted in the language of magic, and giant spikes of earth ripped from the ground, blocking the pathway out of the courtyard.
Crest shouted. His watery-blue magic rippled at his fingers as he twisted it and re-flattened the ground so they could run through.
Angelique threw weapons at them again, but they’d reloaded their green shields, so the thrown daggers, swords, and arrows only cracked their shields’ surfaces.
Primrose made it to the street. “Help—she’s given herself to the darkness!”
“Help!” Galendra screamed, her voice ripe with panic as she twisted around to gape at Angelique with true horror.
Lazare slowed to a trot. He seemed surprisingly tall now that he wasn’t bent over or slumped in a chair, as Angelique had always seen him previously. “Mark our words, she’s as mad as a dog!”
Angelique sprinted into the street, her hair swinging around her in a heavy curtain. She considering shooting the four on the spot—their shields were just about finished. But the road was a busy one. Two mages carrying books, a teacher herding four young students, a merchant with a pushcart, and vendors from the few stalls set up at the edges of the road all craned their necks to watch.
Angelique inhaled deeply as she thought through the possibilities. This was far more dangerous than facing the four Council Members. If they got everyone riled up, Angelique would be ripped to shreds by other mages due to sheer numbers.
She cleared her throat and made herself shout, “Crest, Lazare, Primrose, and Galendra are with the Chosen. They’re black mages! Council Members Tristisim and Felicienne are back in Hallowed Hall, being protected by some war mages.”
“She’s lying. She killed them herself!” Lazare declared. “They’re dead!”
“Lazare!” Crest growled. The younger enchanter had obviously realized they needed to live up to their lies,