Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,220

of debris that had enough of an edge that her magic could claim it—which was most of it.

Angelique’s mind was already cluttered with the hundreds of weapons her magic held. Adding in the countless fragments of glass, ice, and brick made it stretch to a new level.

Not that her magic couldn’t handle it. No, her blasted powers were curiously pooling around the walls of the Conclave fortress. The only reason it wasn’t shooting out into the land surrounding the fortress was the hold Angelique had on it.

No, the limiting factor is me.

Her stomach wobbled, and a part of her wanted to throw up from the sheer number of sensations she felt.

But I need to hold it together long enough to scare them.

Another ice wall exploded—producing sharpened chunks Angelique caught and suspended in the air.

This time, the mage responsible frowned when the ice didn’t bludgeon the terrified Conclave mages, and looked around.

She caught sight of the ice hanging over her head, and her eyes flicked to Angelique. Instantly, she paled.

Angelique smiled.

Yes…that’s right. Every time you lot try to inflict damage, you’re giving me more to work with, and you’re revealing your location. Keep going, and I’ll find you all.

A flick of her finger, and the weapons, shrapnel, and debris spun in the air, moving into precise patterns that clustered above the Chosen mages Angelique could see—which was fairly easy thanks to their green shields compliments of Nefari. Angelique was even able to target a couple of Chosen standing on rooftops due to their shields.

As her ammunition lined up, panic broke out among the Chosen.

“It’s Angelique!”

“We need to escape!”

“But the protocol—”

“She’s going to kill us!”

“What about Crest, Primrose, Lazare and—”

“They already fled!”

Angelique took a breath and reached for the smallest shards and daggers among her arsenal. She lined up her shots, then released them, pummeling the shields so they shattered like kindling.

Yells intermingled with the screaming, and dozens upon dozens of gates created by charms—again using Evariste’s magic—snapped open.

Mages left in droves, leaving the smoking city behind.

Angelique gritted her teeth as she forced herself to hold on despite the toll it was taking on her mind.

“They’re fleeing,” Lovelana reported. “The fighting is slowing down.”

“How do you know?” Sybilla asked.

Lovelana—lit but by a fire that was consuming the roof of a neighboring building—grimly set her mouth. “Because my core magic is healing, and the amount of new blood being spilled is slowing.”

Angelique set her legs wide and braced herself as she slowly lowered some of her arsenal—the shrapnel and debris, specifically. She intended to hold onto the weapons until it was safe. “We need to find Evariste, Tristisim, and Felicienne and make sure they’re safe,” she croaked.

“Angelique!” Clovicus shouted. He sprinted down the street, running faster when he saw Lovelana and Sybilla. “You’re all safe—good. The war mages have claimed a section of streets. We’re forming our stronghold there, and from there, we’ll begin to try to stabilize the city and help whoever is hurt.”

“I think my ring is just about tapped out, so I don’t know that I can help you much,” Sybilla looked doubtfully at her ring.

“I can. Just tell me where to go.” Pink magic pooled around Lovelana. A tendril of it brushed Angelique, and it was soft and soothing.

Clovicus gestured back in the direction he’d come. “Look for the war mages—though approach slowly. They’re on edge.”

Angelique pushed her sweaty, dust-coated hair out of her face. “Evariste?”

“With the war mages—as are Tristisim and Felicienne,” Clovicus said. “They’re the safest ones in the Conclave right now.”

Angelique nodded in relief and wiped her forehead off on the sleeve of her tunic.

“We need to get you some rest.” Clovicus hooked an arm around her shoulders so he was half supporting her. “You look awful.”

Angelique flicked her eyes to her weapons. “Can we risk that?”

“I think so,” Sybilla said. “You scared them something fierce; there have been no more explosions. You need the rest, so take it.”

“We’ll need you ready for tomorrow,” Clovicus added grimly. “In case they decide to come back and finish what they started.”

Angelique slowly lowered the weapons to the ground—though she didn’t leave them out for anyone to find; rather, she secreted them in areas that people would have a hard time reaching: burnt husks of buildings, on the sloped roofs of the Conclave, and other similar locations, though she was careful to leave plenty for her fellow war mages.

“Are we certain?” Angelique asked.

“Yes,” Sybilla said.

Once she could stand easier, Clovicus let Angelique go and stepped in front of her.