Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,236

with the move in order to provide much-needed assurance to the mages.” Her eyes rested on Tristisim in what basically amounted to an open challenge.

Hah! A challenge has been issued! She’s essentially saying Mullberg will make the sacrifice…with the expectation that the Conclave finally acts in the interest of the continent instead of hiding. Finally—finally—someone is holding them accountable!

Angelique tugged Snow White closer and then flung her arms around her with abandon. “Thank you, Snow White. For all of it,” she whispered into the princess’s ear, knowing Snow White would understand.

Snow White patted her shoulder, and when they stepped back, she smiled archly at Angelique. “Of course! That’s what friends do.”

It took approximately a week for the Conclave to call in all mages out on assignments and to arrange enough transportation for everyone.

Stil and the craftmages staying in Chanceux Chateau reported in, as did Firra and Donaigh. With Clovicus and Sybilla leading the charge, the mages began their journey—leaving not a single magic user behind, though Snow White left a veritable army of soldiers to pack and guard the place, with Marzell, Gregori, Aldelbert, and Wendal staying behind to oversee the process.

While the journey started out happily enough with the mages in high spirits (they were about to get the reassurance they badly needed, after all), morale among the Conclave took hit after hit with each passing day as mages started disappearing at night.

“Do we have an exact count on how many have left?” Angelique asked.

Pegasus snorted, blasting out a few embers as he pranced in place.

Sybilla, riding a placid mule that didn’t mind Pegasus’ antics, glanced up at her. “If we include all of those who abandoned the Conclave when you flushed out the Council? Of a sort.” “We have records, but no one has taken the time to count everything up and organize it prettily.”

“Lord Enchanter Tristisim went over some rough numbers last night,” Lovelana said. She rode a red roan mare that was positioned on Sybilla’s other side—farther away from Pegasus, who’d frightened the mare when he first arrived with a thunderstrike the day the procession began.

Lovelana pressed her lips into a grim line and stared at the long trail of mages that stretched ahead of them. “If we add up the forces that left initially—which was nearly one fourth of the mages present at the Conclave—and combine them with the mages who have fallen out of contact or have disappeared on the march…he believes roughly a third of Conclave mages were a part of Chosen.”

“A third.” Angelique’s fingers twitched, and she clutched the reins of Pegasus’ bridle. “I thought there would be a few Chosen mages around…but for so many more to leave us.”

“Snow White’s plan is far more necessary than I ever imagined,” Lovelana said.

“For a multitude of reasons.” Sybilla—riding side-saddle—frowned at the backs of her mule’s large ears. “I knew the Conclave was in dire straits being so useless and all, but I didn’t think it was this bad.” She sighed wearily, and the sad light in her eyes set off her whole countenance.

“I didn’t know either,” Angelique said.

“Oh, but you did.” Lovelana had to lean at an ungainly angle to peer past Sybilla and see Angelique, but she somehow still managed to look elegant. “That’s why you washed your hands of the Conclave when you did. Because you could tell it was rotten to the core.”

“That is giving me a little too much credit,” Angelique said. “It was just because they annoyed me with their constant hassles.”

“Even so, it was for the good of the continent that you cut off contact when you did,” Sybilla said. “I imagine once you stopped handing in reports and coming to scrape and bow at the Council’s altar, the Chosen had a harder time keeping track of you.”

A war mage Angelique recognized as one of Javed’s people, who possessed magical speed and stamina, jogged past on foot, looking as fresh as a daisy. She saluted Angelique with a smile as she passed, patrolling the long procession.

Angelique was positioned near the end of the procession, acting as a sort of rearguard and, more importantly, an intimidation factor to keep mages from running.

Overhead, Odile and her wyvern soared through the skies. The budding mage had joined the procession on the day they set out. Surprisingly, only a handful of mages questioned her sincerity. It probably was a combination of Odile’s sweet temperament—she cooed at her monstrous wyvern like it was a puppy, and it wagged its tail for her—and