Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,53

out at the murky front of the mirror—unable to see much given the darkness of the queen’s chambers.

Queen Faina had left shortly after midnight, moaning in pain. It was just Evariste—and the mirror, of course.

“Why resist? You’re never going to escape. You are entirely in my power,” it whispered.

Evariste rallied the effort to yawn, showing the mirror just how little he cared about it. He regretted the display when hot pain burrowed into the hinge of his jaw.

Everything in him was tensed with pain—even his teeth hurt and his eyelids ached.

I’d do anything to sleep for an hour. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept. The mirror hadn’t even granted him the courtesy of letting him pass out from pain.

Whenever he was on the brink of it, the mirror lashed out with a singing magic that burned at Evariste’s skin.

I wonder if I’ll lose my mind soon, Evariste dully thought. Could the mirror still use my magic then? Or would it go mad with me? I imagine my sanity level wouldn’t matter to it. It would just be gleeful there was no resistance.

That thought alone made Evariste sit up a little taller despite the hot pain that tore through his lower back as the mirror ripped another strand of his magic free for its use. That was the only reason why he didn’t appear half dead when the black mage appeared.

Evariste didn’t even know he was there until the haze of the mirror faded, revealing a thin, elderly man wearing a gray cloak.

Evariste had seen him before. Every so often—maybe once a week or once a month? He didn’t know. Time ran differently in the mirror—a Chosen mage appeared to check on the mirror’s progress with Queen Faina, renew its orders, and to glance at Evariste as well.

Although the man’s limbs were skinny like sticks and he wheezed whenever he breathed—a combination that made him appear less than one day from the grave—when the Chosen mage reached out, Evariste braced himself.

“Are you sleeping, Lord Enchanter Evariste? Time to wake up!” The mage put a hand on the edges of the mirror and, as if he were picking up a toy block, hefted the entire mirror up—even though it was taller than he was. He shook it, jostling the mirror.

Strength magic—not a usual power.

Evariste didn’t feel it overly much—it made the ground ripple underneath him, but the motion was not as violent as the mage was hoping—so he stayed sitting where he was, watching the mage with a purposely lazy expression.

“Use me…” the mirror whispered to the mage.

“We are.” The old man’s laugh was high-pitched and raspy, and after a moment it descended into a cough that wracked his body for a good minute before he recovered.

Evariste stared past the man into Queen’s Faina darkened room, his eyes starved for any sight besides the rusty, brownish-red that continuously filled his sight, even if all he saw was blackness.

The mage wiped his mouth off on his sleeve, then pressed so close to the mirror he nearly mashed his mottled red nose against its surface. “Lord Enchanter? You haven’t finally died, have you? Me and the boys have bets going for when you finally break and croak, and I said you’d last at least another week!”

“My spite keeps me alive,” Evariste drawled. “Your beloved leader told me she didn’t believe I could survive this. But I live to hear of the day she chokes on her own ambition and black magic.” He fell silent, refusing to show an ounce more of weakness, when the mirror sucked more magic from him, making his fingers pop.

The mage grunted. “Sounds right. We were told you’d never last this long. Lady Liliane figured the mirror would chew you up right an’ finish you off fast. She’s been getting’ fair terse in her orders to us. It’s been months since you arrived, and not only are you still sulking and alive, but Princess Snow White is blithely runnin’ around.” He backed up a step so he could scowl up at the giant red ruby that was fixed on the top of the mirror’s frame. “Care to explain yourself, tool?”

“I follow the orders I am given.”

“Yeah, and you were sent to end the princess’ life and crush Mullberg with the insane queen. None of which has been accomplished—even though you’ve had years, and Lady Liliane gave you a pet enchanter to eat.”

“One enchanter’s magic is but a droplet compared to my potential. I need more.”

“You ain’t getting more