skirts with her finger tips, she wished the Snow Queen was still here—or that someone with her strength of character was.
Stil, Prince Severin, and several others had once told Angelique they thought she was the Snow Queen of their generation.
Standing at the base of this statue, Angelique felt their belief made a mockery of the Snow Queen and just how good and pure she had been.
“That’s the Snow Queen,” Themerysaldi called. Apparently he had decided to never miss an opportunity to annoy Angelique today. “The first enchantress of the continent.”
His observation broke the hold the faint magic of Jasper Circle had on Angelique. She yanked her hand back and flexed her fingers. “I know.”
Themerysaldi opened his mouth to say something more, but Quinn slipped off his mount. “Never mind that!” She angled her head to shout to the elves, “Incoming! They’re right behind us!”
Themerysaldi snapped on a serious expression as he shed his fancy over-robe so he could move freely in a tunic. He took a sword from one of his men. “To your posts!” he roared.
He marched up and down the lines the elves had formed, murmuring to his people and giving orders. Quinn followed in his trail, leaving Angelique alone.
Angelique glanced at the Snow Queen’s statue one last time before she left Jasper Circle.
She started funneling her magic, twisting it into spells.
If I work fast enough, I can throw out some traps and down the front lines. That will slow the goblins, and the longer we can delay their collision with our forces, the longer the elves will have to shoot them down.
Angelique tapped her fingers against her chin as she studied the open stretch of land in front of the elves—who were pressed against the trees for cover.
At least one hole. Maybe an ice field, too.
She started shaping the spells and fought to stave off the weighty impression that this wasn’t going to be enough.
She hesitated, holding an ice spell in her hands, and glanced at the closest elf.
The elf hurriedly tied up the long sleeves of her dress with shaking fingers, then counted her arrows.
All elves were taught basic combat and archery skills, but if Angelique wasn’t mistaken, the blonde-haired elf was the thoughtful handmaiden that had served Angelique tea—just the way she liked it—during her afternoon with Themerysaldi and Quinn.
She’s not a warrior. She won’t survive this.
Angelique swallowed, the thundering of her heart punctuated by the throbbing drums the goblins beat on as they marched closer and closer.
Angelique’s gaze flickered past the handmaiden to the other elves around her.
It was the same everywhere. Their eyes were glazed in fear, and their fingers shook as they tried to roll up their clothes and prepare for a battle they hadn’t been trained for. A few tried to use tiny flickers of magic, but they were so weak, it slipped between their fingers.
Themerysaldi is right. They will die.
Bobbing torches poked through the trees, and the goblin’s cackling laughter and shouts created a cacophony eclipsed only by the battering of their drums.
The line of torches extended farther up and down through the trees than Angelique could reasonably see.
How many are here? If I use spells, how many can I reasonably take down or stop?
She had a bad feeling that—if she wanted to prevent the total annihilation of the elves—the answer was not nearly enough.
Angelique clinically stared at the churning goblin forces. I’m faster and more capable than I used to be, but I have no hope of slinging enough spells to make a dent in these forces. If I use my core magic, just how many could I take down?
The thought made her lungs freeze, but it was inescapable: her magic was made for war.
Her stomach churned, and while she didn’t entirely stomp the thought down, she pushed it aside as she reluctantly moved to join Quinn, who was standing with a line of archers.
Angelique narrowed her eyes and tried to better estimate how many goblins marched through the forest. “This is impossible.” She shook her hair out, getting rid of the snow that had coated the locks. “How could the Chosen control this many goblins? Who has this kind of power?”
Themerysaldi had returned to Quinn’s other side, and he stared out at the goblins with a flinty frown. “I don’t know. But it seems they’ve been planning this for a long time.”
A long time…that seems to be a pattern with the Chosen. They’ve been preparing for centuries, and we’re always ten steps behind them. What other foul tricks