Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,43

in the direction of the goblin cackles that were slowly drawing closer. “Describe it.”

“It’s very…eager to be used.” Angelique spread her fingers wide and watched silvery magic pool at her fingertips, even though she hadn’t pulled on her powers. “Too eager. If I lose my death grip on it, it’ll run wild.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes!” Angelique shivered. “It’s so potent it feels…no…I’ve seen it consume other magic. It doesn’t fight for dominance; it overpowers and eats other magic. I fought a black mage before I came to Alabaster Forest, and my magic almost swallowed him whole.”

“Hmm.” Themerysaldi nodded slowly, his eyebrows twitching as he thought.

He’s actually thinking about it.

Something in Angelique loosened at the realization. So many times Evariste or Sybilla had swatted off her concerns as silly. But Themerysaldi had listened and was actually considering Angelique’s fears.

There was something about it—that he hadn’t bothered to minimize her worries—that made Angelique feel better.

It felt almost disloyal to even think that (Evariste had done so much for her), but it seemed to Angelique he was so certain in her magic that he didn’t listen to her.

“This happens all the time, or only in specific situations?” Themerysaldi asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“All the—” Angelique paused when Pegasus sucked a lock of her hair into his mouth and pulled just hard enough that she felt pressure on her scalp. “Well, whenever I use my core magic, which is only when I fight.”

“Ahhh. That is an important distinction,” Themerysaldi said, “and one that explains a lot.”

Angelique furrowed her brow. “In what way?”

“Because when you fight, you face—what were some of the enemies you told me about? A basilisk, a wyvern, black mages? Goblins too, obviously. It doesn’t matter.” Themerysaldi dramatically swept a hand through the air. “The point is you are fighting evil and darkness.”

“Yes.”

“And that is why your magic acts so.”

“…I’m not following your reasoning.”

“Look. Your magic comes from your soul, right? While it’s not a sentient thing per se, given where it’s coming from, it’s going to have a flavor of you to it,” Themerysaldi said. “And you can’t stand anything evil or twisted. It’s abhorrent to you. Naturally, that’s going to mean your magic reacts stronger—perhaps almost violently so—to it as well.”

Angelique blinked. “That seems like a large leap in logic.”

“How? You’ve never really hurt anyone with your magic—that one incident with Evariste-the-sloppy doesn’t count,” Themerysaldi countered.

“There’s never been a moment where I’d consider using my magic on others, so we can’t know for sure it wouldn’t react just as enthusiastically in attacking the helpless,” Angelique said.

“Yes, we can—because you’d never harm someone like that.” Themerysaldi casually nocked an arrow in his bow and leaned back against the tree.

“You can’t say that for certain. What if in the darkest moment I do strike out at the innocent,” Angelique argued. “We can’t know—”

“But we can,” Themerysaldi interrupted. “Because you’ve had dark moments. You’ve practically lived in dark moments these past few years. Your master was taken; you’ve been forced to face down an assortment of evil creatures and vile magic users that normally only a seasoned enchanter would be sent after; you had to face down fellow mages and strike out from the Veneno Conclave.”

“Never once have you turned on the innocent. Rather, you’ve doubled down on fighting against what is wrong,” Themerysaldi said. “Your magic is going to have that same kind of awful—annoying—stubbornness. And enthusiasm.” Themerysaldi peered around the trunk of the tree.

The chunk of the goblin army that Themerysaldi’s archers had split off and driven away were visible. Mostly Angelique just saw the sputtering torches they carried—which were pinpricks of light in the smothering darkness of the forest.

An elf stepped out of the shadows and bowed to Themerysaldi over his arm. “We have driven another group of goblin troops here, Your Majesty.”

“I can see that, but thank you. Keep ‘em moving, and we’ll take care of it.” Themerysaldi said.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The elf stepped back into the shadows, disappearing.

“Your rationale makes sense. At least it’s the most sensible explanation I’ve been told,” Angelique said.

“About your magic? Of course, I’m right. But you don’t believe it, do you?” Themerysaldi gave her the side eye.

“It’s not that I disbelieve you.” Angelique hesitated and stepped around a tree trunk, watching the goblins as they scrambled closer—hollering and shrieking as they charged through the underbrush. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. And what you’ve said makes more sense than any of the empty platitudes I’ve heard others say.”

“I assume you’re referring