Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,67

see the spells woven into the jewels.

After a moment, the spell language shimmered into view—for everything in the room.

The glittering letters of magic—twisted by the black enchantments—were unidentifiable from one another as their power filled the room.

If I was better at sensing magic, I might be able to isolate the jewels one at a time and look at the spells that way, but that’s beyond my abilities. Maybe Puss will be able to tell?

Three particularly large jewels set in surprisingly simple necklaces pulsed with exceedingly potent spells.

I can’t guess what’s in them, but it has to be powerful. Why on earth would the Chosen let this place burn with so much black magic? The Veneno Conclave isn’t far beyond Mullberg’s border. There are mages traveling through these parts all of the time!

Angelique clenched her teeth. But obviously they haven’t been found out—and Severin said this place had existed for at least a decade. A testament to just how badly we mages have failed.

The bitterness of regret filled Angelique’s mouth, but when she heard a heavy set of footfalls march down the hallway, she assumed a position of attention, watching Elle and Gabrielle as the pair peered at the rows upon rows of jewels.

A mage stepped into the room, lingering in the doorway.

He appeared to be in his late thirties, perhaps early forties, with silver-streaked hair, and a well-groomed goatee that was also peppered with gray. His face was strong but handsome, and he was well dressed with aquamarine-colored gems that glittered at the cuffs of his white robe and the neckline of his dark brown tunic.

He didn’t look cruel, despite the curls of black magic that wafted into the room after him. Rather, he looked clean cut and presentable.

His presence was unsettling because he wasn’t unsettling. He wouldn’t have looked out of place in a prosperous town.

The mage glanced at Quinn, inspecting her in a quick head-to-toe motion. Based on the way his gaze lingered at her waist, Angelique wondered if he had a detection spell or could sense the daggers, but he blew into the room with no hesitation, so he assumedly did not.

Angelique wasn’t entirely surprised—both black mages and regular mages alike always seemed to forget about the existence of physical weapons, including fists. She’d downed more than a couple opponents using physical fight tactics.

The Chosen mage fixed his sight upon Gabrielle and approached her. “Mademoiselle Mystrim, I presume?” His voice was smooth and delectable—like icing on a cake.

Chapter 11

Gabrielle raised her fan to cover her lips. The orange light of the fire made her hair look like it was glowing, and the shadows of the room seemed to magnify her fine facial features and make her look every bit the mage she was pretending to be. She lazily flicked her eyes to Elle and barely tipped her chin.

“Yes, yes.” Elle scurried forward. “Please allow me to bestow the honor upon you of introducing the renowned Mademoiselle Mystrim.”

“Renowned, is it?” The Chosen mage smirked as he idly stroked his goatee. “And yet I have never heard of the illustrious Mademoiselle Mystrim, much less that she is a member of our…company.”

It was about then that Angelique realized she wasn’t cut out for undercover work. Her mouth went dry, and her heart beat faster and faster—and the mage wasn’t even looking at her, but at Elle!

Elle looked to Gabrielle, who rolled her eyes and gave the sigh of one who finds any sort of exertion cumbersome.

“Yes, yes, of course.” Elle bowed several times to Gabrielle before facing the Chosen mage. “Mademoiselle Mystrim is a particularly talented illusionist who—due to the public fervor for her skills—has, over the past few years, found it necessary to retire to her country home. She has no use for those outside her abode and does not care what a common mage would think of her,” Elle said.

The mage stared at Elle. “You got all of that from a sigh?”

Elle pushed her thick glasses farther up her nose and craned her neck while remaining in her slightly hunched position. “I have had the great honor of serving Mademoiselle Mystrim for many years. It is my job to anticipate her needs before she voices them and to speak what she cannot.”

“Cannot, or doesn’t feel like?” the Chosen mage asked.

Elle scowled. “You dare besmirch my lady?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” the Chosen mage said smoothly. “But you are essentially saying your lady is against mingling with society?”

“Indeed.”

He stepped past Angelique and muttered under his breath, “A small mercy for