Trial of Magic (The Fairy Tale Enchantress #4) - K. M. Shea Page 0,57

alliance, as well as the monster hordes the Chosen were moving around the continent with alarming speed.

Wood was stacked high next to the fireplace, and three different hand mirrors were strewn across a massive desk that housed several geographical models of Erlauf.

Elle was seated at a round end table that was so small, the tea caddy balanced on its surface was larger than the table.

The Loire princess dropped a sugar cube in her tea and stirred it with a spoon as she glanced at the two guests seated at the end table with her—Gemma and Stil.

Stil was a Grandmaster craftmage Angelique knew quite well—he was an orphan she and Evariste had tested for magic and then taken to Luxi-Domus, the Veneno Conclave academy of magic.

Stil was something like a little brother to Angelique—though Evariste had always jokingly referred to him as their child—and was a genius at his magic.

Gemma, his wife, was just as talented in her work—sewing. She produced the highest quality of sewn clothes and goods that Angelique had ever seen, which was particularly important for craftmages who could place stronger spells and charms on higher quality goods.

Seemingly unaware of their arrival, Elle sipped her teacup, and then set it down. “Grandmaster Craftmage Stil, how much would a cloak similar to yours cost?”

“My black one?” Stil puffed his chest in pride. “Why, it’s priceless considering Gemma made it for me.”

Gemma—who appeared to be hemming a sash of some sort, probably something for the impending war that Stil would, in turn, enchant—didn’t even look up from her work. “I don’t think she’s talking about the cloak itself, but the spells.”

“Yes.” Elle eagerly nodded. “As much as I would love a cloak made by Gemma’s hand, that’s not exactly possible given the great need we have for her work. I was actually thinking a subpar cloak with a few small enchantments. Nothing too big—maybe a heat charm, or a spell to cool the wearer off, an invisibility charm—small things!”

Stil eyed the Loire Princess. “You just want that invisibility charm so you have an easier time slipping your guards.”

“They have gotten aggravatingly good at tracking me down lately,” Elle acknowledged.

“Can’t do it,” Stil said. “Severin would be mad—and don’t think I didn’t notice how you waited to ask until he was gone.”

Elle casually tossed a small bag onto the tea tray. It clinked suspiciously like coins when it landed and nearly tossed a spoon into the air. “Are you certain?”

“Weeeellll, those are small charms,” Still said. “It’s not like you’re asking for much.”

“No,” Gemma said.

“Why not?” Elle asked.

Stil poked a corner of the coin pouch. “Yes, why not?”

“Because I have great empathy for Prince Severin,” Gemma dryly said, “given whom I married.”

Stil sputtered. “I beg your pardon! I do not go skidding around on castle roofs for fun like Madame Elle!”

“No,” Gemma said. “You both just charge stupidly into fights and like to sacrifice yourselves in similar ways.”

Elle fluttered her eyelashes and looked excessively innocent. “Why would you say that?” she asked. “It’s not like we’re reckless or anything.”

Gemma actually set her project on her lap and stared at Elle.

Elle’s winning smile turned sheepish. “Ahahah.”

“I’ll tell you why—it’s that we are over-burdened with an abundance of good ideas,” Stil declared.

“Sometimes I wonder if I failed as a mentor because I was unable to stamp any lick of humility into you.” Angelique grinned as she approached them, skirting around a table that held drawings of the various monsters that plagued the continent.

“Angelique!” Elle stood, her smile warm and sunny. “I’m so glad to see you—and your lovely companion must be Quinn of Midnight Lake?”

Quinn saluted her as she had the princess’s husband. “I am.”

“Quinn, please allow me to introduce you to Princess Elle of Loire, Grandmaster Craftmage Stil, and Gemma.” Angelique gestured to each person as she made the introductions.

Quinn nodded to each of them in turn. “A pleasure,” she said. “Angelique told me much about you during our travels.”

“All good things, I imagine.” Stil winked at Quinn as he stood up, reaching out to clasp Angelique’s hand in his.

Angelique squeezed his fingers, then motioned for him to sit again. “We can make nice later—Severin told me about the Chosen stronghold.”

Elle held a finger up. “Ahh, yes—I’ll tell you everything I know!” She marched over to Severin’s desk and shuffled through several maps before finding the one she was looking for. “Here we have it. It’s a moderate stronghold. One black mage runs the place—the ranger estimated he is probably a high-ranking