Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,226

situation like this.”

“They will try to interfere in mage business,” Tristisim said. “Which cannot be allowed.”

Chapter 37

Angelique froze mid-nod. “…What?”

“We are weakened,” Felicienne said. “In this state, they could force us to do whatever they like.”

“Perhaps we shouldn’t care quite so much about our autonomy as we should care that the Chosen just walked off with a fourth of our mages and that we will very likely face those mages on the field of battle,” Angelique suggested.

“We must be concerned with our autonomy,” Tristisim said. “It was forged into the very foundations of the Veneno Conclave. It is our law. We must always stand separate.”

Evariste shrugged. “Why? Based on our findings, you can’t say we’ve done the best of job being autonomous.”

Angelique laughed, earning a grin from Evariste.

Felicienne frowned slightly while studying them. “It seems the two of you have developed an unholy sense of humor.”

“You’ll have to forgive us,” Evariste said. “That’s what happens when one is locked in a mirror for years or is forced to save the continent on a daily basis instead of lying around a fortress without a daydream of what the enemy has done.”

Felicienne turned bright red and pointedly turned her gaze away from them.

Clovicus cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention. He smiled warmly, and then twisted the knife with his gentle voice. “Has it occurred to you, Tristisim and Felicienne, that the Chosen used your passion for Conclave law and isolation to manipulate you into doing what they wanted?”

“Impossible,” Tristisim said. “The laws exist for the good of the Conclave.”

“And yet they almost had you talked into sealing our dear little Angelique—the magic user they fear most in this world,” Clovicus mildly said. “Just think, if it weren’t for Evariste and his unholy humor, we’d be in much more trouble.”

Felicienne hesitated, then nodded.

Tristisim, however, slammed his hands down on the table, jarring the empty tea pot and cups. “I won’t allow it.”

“I don’t care what you allow or not,” Angelique said frankly. “You lost that option when the Chosen revealed just how precarious our position is. The countries have to help us, or we’ll lose everything. And while I’d be perfectly satisfied to see you sacrificed for your misplaced ideals—at least it would mean you’d actually be doing something for a change—I won’t allow you to take the rest of the mages down with you.”

Tristisim looked murderous, but Clovicus whistled. “Angelique, you’ve grown quite daring over the winter.”

“Not hardly,” Angelique dryly said. “I merely am no longer willing to put up with useless prattle that accomplishes nothing in facing our enemy.” Angelique stared Tristisim down. “You do what you wish. I’m joining Severin in fighting against the Chosen. He’s been preparing all these years that the mages have spent dithering. Given what has been said about which mages belonged to the ranks of the Chosen, we need to be prepared for the worst.”

Rather than waste words arguing, Angelique slipped out of the tent, almost ramming into one of her war mage shadows.

She awkwardly nodded to them and skirted sideways.

“Do you need anything, Lady Enchantress?” the leader asked.

“Uhh, no. I just have to grab my mirror and send off a message, but I’ll use magical methods for that.” Angelique scratched the back of her neck and forced a strained laugh. “I just need to find my satchel.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Angelique jumped at Evariste’s unexpected offer. She hadn’t noticed that he’d slipped out after her. Belatedly, she smiled at him. “Are you sure you don’t need to go rest?”

He flinched. “I’d rather not.”

Angelique studied him for a moment. The strain of exhaustion was still there (staying up all night wouldn’t have helped that, obviously), but more pressing than the exhaustion was the hint of darkness that shadowed his eyes.

It seems sleep still isn’t restful for him. I suppose the events of last night would only amplify the horror of what he endured in the mirror. I can understand why he has no desire to sleep.

“Very well.” Angelique pointed to the main building of the Veneno Conclave. “Shall we go? I assume you left my bag somewhere in there?”

“Yes, my office, as a matter of fact.”

“Excellent! Then—”

“If you’ll excuse my intrusion, Lady Enchantress, what are your orders?” the leading war mage asked.

Angelique froze. “Orders?”

“Yes. Where would you like us stationed?”

Wouldn’t something like that be up to Felicienne or Tristisim? Angelique glanced at Evariste, hoping for guidance, and was shocked by the upward curl to the corners of his lips.

“Or should we continue to follow you to