Wicked As You Wish (A Hundred Names for Magic #1) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,141

all. Arizonian textbooks treated the fighting between Avalon and Beiran like it was both their faults, as if the frost was a natural and unsurprising consequence of their hostilities. Given the Royal States’ interests in both kingdoms’ spelltech, that was probably to be expected. There was a reason they’d been vicious in coming after Miss Hutchins.

But this, the forgotten meal, a celebration cut short by tragedy, this wasn’t something most people thought of writing when they thought about war.

The firebird alighted on the table on the off chance the cakes were still edible. It gave a tentative peck at one, and then made a disgusted sound.

“We have to get out of here.” The lack of people did nothing to improve Tala’s nerves.

It shook its head. It paused, listening intently to something Tala couldn’t hear. It gestured at her to follow and dashed out another door. Groaning inwardly, Tala followed.

The firebird led her confidently through a series of rooms. Then it led her through another series of rooms that looked exactly like the ones they just left, into a very long hallway.

“Where are we going?” Tala stepped into a narrow gallery next, portraits of fierce-looking men and women staring out at her as they passed. Golden, if slightly musty, plaques underneath the paintings bore similarly royal-sounding names. Despite their hurried pace, a few of the paintings managed to catch her eye.

“Hyacinth of Gnomme” was a tall, statuesquely built blond man impeccably dressed in stately robes, and would have been handsome if not for his large, ungainly nose. “Pierre, the Marquis of Carabas,” a dark-haired young nobleman with sharp features and a weak chin, reclined idly against a lounge chair. A small tabby cat, in a miniature hat and a pair of black boots, curled up on an armrest, grinning. “The Bull of Norroway” turned out to be a hulk of a man with a cloak of fur on his shoulders that she recognized as similar to what West wore.

There were also many familiar names. “Avenant Charming, the first” was an impossibly handsome man smiling out at her with Alex’s blue eyes. “Arthur of Camelot,” probably the most famous of Avalon’s kings, was depicted brandishing Excalibur and leading his men into battle, as if sitting down to have his portrait taken was far too mundane for the likes of him. But it was “Ivan Tsarevich” who looked the most like Alex, with a firebird nestled on his shoulder in almost the same way.

And there were the Three Great Heroines, depicted side by side. Ye Xian of Wudong was a young Chinese warrior who had married into the Charming family; she wielded the great sword, Fishbone. The rapier that Talia Briar-Rose, the legendary Sleeping Beauty, carried was called Needle, delicate and sharp. Snow White’s weapon of choice was a broadsword called Hunter, and in her painting she was lifting it above her head, ready to strike. Two of those swords had since been lost to time; only one of the blades, now known as the Nameless Sword, had survived. As the sword frequently changed form and size depending on whom it chose to wield it, nobody knew whose sword it originally was.

The next portrait was “Prince Darling” and to Tala’s horror, it depicted a large snakelike creature with a lion’s head and a bull’s horns. It wore a black expensive coat, and a plume of feathers on its head.

Another portrait adorned the wall at the farthest end. It was of a large cat with fur of many colors and bright yellow eyes. It gazed calmly back at Tala, who read the small brass plaque underneath the painting: “The Duke of Wonderland.”

The firebird disappeared through another door, into what Tala realized was the royal throne room.

Here, ice grew everywhere.

Thick maroon draperies hung from every corner, frosted over by a thick transparent glaze. Every conceivable nook and cranny on the floor was covered in a thick, mirror-like polish, the plush red carpeting preserved underneath. A magnificent fresco was painted on the high ceiling, depicting a large army host off to do battle, although whatever it was they were fighting was now obscured by several more layers of ice. Large stalagmites jutted out from the floor, filling the room. It made Tala feel like they were wandering into the jaws of a giant monster.

There was a mirror near the entrance, with markings similar to the one at the sanctuary. Tala tentatively made her way over, gave it a careful tap. If this was a looking glass,