Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,107

The noise faintly trickled through the mirror on and off.

She lost, Evariste dimly thought. The mirror has her entirely in its grasp. Through her, it will kill Princess Snow White, and then the Chosen will have Mullberg.

More pain wracked his body, stealing the stale, iron-scented air from his lungs and making his torn throat ache.

Evariste wasn’t sure how many moments passed before he could function enough to have another thought. It could have been a minute or an hour.

Queen Faina was still crying. But that could mean anything.

I just want this pain to stop.

Even Evariste’s eyelids hurt as he tried to inhale in a way that only produced a dull throbbing instead of the hot, searing pain that currently knifed through his lungs.

When I was first captured, I regretted the thought that I might die. But now…it would be a relief.

The thought felt almost like a betrayal to those he knew were searching for him—surely Angelique, Clovicus, and the Veneno Conclave.

But Evariste had held out for so long. Pain had been his entire world for what felt like years. Couldn’t he stop fighting, finally?

I don’t think it will matter much longer. I can’t hold out any longer. I can’t even try to hold back my magic—I’m too weak. Soon, it will be over.

Evariste’s breathing hitched when one of his fingers twitched, sending a new deluge of pain through him.

Angelique, I’m sorry. I can’t fight it anymore.

Chapter 17

“Are you certain I can cut your hair?” Elle asked for surely the fifth time.

“Yes! How many times must I tell you before you believe me?” Angelique asked.

“But it’s your hair. And I’m purposely cutting it to make you look scruffy,” Elle said. “I mean, I’m fine making myself look like a ragamuffin, but it seems like such a shame to ruin you.” Elle ran a hand through the long, glossy locks and puffed out her cheeks.

“I can use an illusion to make it look however I want when all of this is over,” Angelique said. “But I can’t risk running an illusion when I’m in disguise as an herb wizard’s apprentice—that’s too advanced of magic for what is basically a glorified healer.”

That had been Elle’s idea: to make Angelique one of the least-skilled sort of magic users there was.

Given that herb wizards used very little magic—mostly they were skilled at collecting herbs and specializing in their various uses and had only the tiniest brush of magic that might help them create healing droughts or herb charms to make a cottage smell fresh—Angelique couldn’t afford to let her powers through.

It also gave her an excellent excuse as to why she couldn’t use her powers—and possibly give herself away with the uniqueness of her magic. As an apprentice, she wouldn’t be allowed to use much magic yet—too many possibilities to accidentally create a poison or something dangerous.

“Very well. I apologize for this.” Elle clutched the delicate silver scissors she’d procured from her bag.

“I certainly don’t mind,” Angelique said. “I’ll need every bit of help I can get to make this convincing because I don’t know a thing about herbs.”

Elle rolled her eyes. “Very well, since you are unsympathetic to this crime, I apologize directly to your hair!” She pursed her lips so tightly her mouth screwed up, and then snipped a lock of Angelique’s long hair, cutting it so it fell roughly to her shoulders in a curly wave.

Elle purposely hacked at Angelique’s hair, cutting the locks at slightly different lengths to give her an untidy appearance. She ruffled it as she went, and soon Angelique’s dark hair was disheveled, significantly muting the sharper planes of her cheekbones and nose.

Angelique glanced down at her new costume: a blue tunic that was so large on her, it fell almost to her knees.

(“It gives the appearance that you’re shorter than you really are,” Elle had claimed.)

The blue of the tunic was gray enough that it almost made Angelique’s eyes look closer to gray than silver. At the very least, the color helped muffle the unnaturalness of Angelique’s eyes—her “position” as an herb wizard’s apprentice would provide the cover for her magic, but as not many mages had silver eyes, the color needed to be downplayed as much as possible.

Three belts—all three leather, and all three battered as Elle had recruited some of the elves to smack them with their swords to age the belts—wrapped around Angelique’s waist. She fiddled with her plain cloak, twitching it so it covered more of her knees so she didn’t shiver in