Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,22

You can’t have her magic of—”

He was going to blab about her magic?

Oh, no you don’t, you selfish princeling.

She couldn’t lunge at him—she wasn’t so stupid as to break that law in her anger—but she scooped up a small rock and threw it with all her rage. The rock passed so close to the nose of Themerysaldi’s mask, it whistled.

When the Elf King finally looked in her direction, Angelique’s face was cold with her resentment. “Not a word,” she ordered, not caring if it was faux pas to give a monarch an order.

For the first time, she could feel Emerys’s preoccupation with Quinn settle as his posture returned to something more royal. “Angelique, you’ll have to get over it one day. Your magic isn’t something you can deny.”

Angelique had a great many words she wished to exchange with the Elf King. None of them, however, involved her magic. So it was with a hollow, emotionless voice that she repeated, “Not a word.”

For the first time since Angelique had met him, the Elf King backed down. “Right.” He rubbed the back of his head. “So, why are you standing in the human woods?”

Angelique’s shoulders hunched as her emotions cooled from a deep rage to simple hostility. “Because I’m not an elf-friend, so I can’t just stroll in whenever I like!”

Maddeningly, Emerys snapped his fingers and declared in a bright voice, “That’s right! I forgot about that.”

He seems inept enough from his infatuation with Quinn that I’m fairly certain I could throw another rock and nail him in the throat. It wouldn’t do lasting damage, but it would do a great deal in making me feel better.

Quinn must have sensed Angelique’s murderous thoughts. The kind soldier put her hand on Emerys’ arm. “Emerys. The Lady Enchantress has been through a lot. Stop playing games.”

Angelique peeled her gaze from Emerys to Quinn, feeling such gratitude for the other woman, she probably could have cried again.

That settled it: Quinn wasn’t a soldier; she was a saint.

Emerys shifted his weight, appearing guilty—though Angelique couldn’t read much of his emotions with that stupid mask on. “Right. Sorry, Angelique. Please enter Alabaster Forest. As the King of the Elves, I offer shelter and safe haven to you as long as you should need it.”

Angelique blinked back the possibility of tears that stung her eyes and traipsed into Alabaster Forest before Emerys could rescind his invitation.

Quinn gave her a warm smile that did a lot for the good of Angelique’s soul. “Come. We can talk as we walk to Sideralis.” She tugged on her horse’s reins and motioned for Angelique to fall into step with her.

“Thank you.” Angelique took in a deep breath and did her best to adopt a more peaceful attitude—for Quinn’s sake. Certainly not for the sake of the selfish, stand-offish—she stopped her inner tirade and smiled at Quinn. “And…could you explain to me how the two of you came to be friends? I fear I am rather ignorant of the goings-on of Alabaster Forest.”

Walking through Sideralis was both comforting and disconcerting. It took Angelique the entire walk to the palace before she started to pinpoint the issue.

The city—which was normally bustling with elves—was quiet. Oh, there were a few elves out and about. But they seemed tired and their usual elegant steps dragged. Even the few elf children Angelique saw staggered as they followed their parents into their tall and narrow homes.

Physically speaking, Sideralis looked the same. The river still flowed down the center of the city as beautiful bridges arched over it, crisscrossing in ornate patterns. Homes that were decorated with glass and spires that were welded to resemble stars and animals glittered in the anemic sunlight from the protective resin coating all elf houses were painted with.

It was untouched by time—flawless and as wild as the immense trees that surrounded the city. But the air was so hushed, it was almost smothering.

Is it part of their curse? Angelique almost snorted. Or, it could very well be the low morale that comes with living in a curse for years upon years. Sometimes I can be a dolt.

She shook her head as she stepped through a side entrance of the palace.

“I’ll call for tea, but do you want to freshen up first?” Themerysaldi asked, his voice slightly muffled by his mask.

Angelique frowned. “Freshen up?”

“You look wild,” the Elf King said. “And very untidy.”

“Go take a swan dive off a tree,” Angelique snarled.

“Temper, temper!” Themerysaldi tut-tutted.

“Please excuse Emerys,” Quinn said. “He’s spent some time shape-shifting