If I go inside now, what are the odds I’ll walk in on them kissing? I’m thinking higher than I’d like to betagainst.
Gemma Kielland had been successfully rescued, and—as Stil had hoped—the Snow Queen’s magic had ended King Torgen’slife.
Angelique had only seen Stil for a snatch of a moment when she had returned from Fresler’s Helm and found all of Ostfold in a bit of anuproar.
He had assured her Gemma was safe, but he was able to give her little more than the barest facts besides saying their plan hadworked.
No one was distraught at the King’s passing. It was more…that they almost didn’t know what to do now that the mantle of oppression had lifted. (Though it seemed, based on the laughter and music that radiated from the city, mostly they werecelebrating.)
King Torgen’s son, Toril, had already been named and crowned as the new monarch. And despite his parentage, the people of Ostfold were embracing their new king, shouting cheers and blessings in hisname.
Angelique brandished a finger at the sky. “Stay up there tonight,” she told the celestial horse—though she wasn’t even sure he could hear her. “We’ll head out tomorrowmorning.”
A part of her longed to begin the journey to Zancara immediately, but she was running on entirely too little sleep, and breaking into Zancara would require every scrap of intelligence she could muster, so she was better off waiting. (Even if it meant housing with the lovebirds—whohadto have confessed their love to each other based on the soppy glances they were exchanging when Angelique saw themarrive.)
Angelique fluffed Pricker Patch’s hay for him, then patted the ornery donkey. “What do you think? Is itsafe?”
Pricker Patch flicked his ears and placidly chewed hishay.
Angelique scratched her cheek and considered the tent. She broke her reverie, though, when she heard the quiet crunch ofsnow.
“I should have known you’d be behindthis.”
A woman stepped into the orange light of the crackling fire. There was a pinched tilt to her brow, but her voice was beautiful and positivelymusical.
She had magic for certain—Angelique could feel a hint of it—but she stared at Angelique withfamiliarity.
Angelique blinked.She looks familiar, but I don’t recognize her.She settled a calm smile on her face and rested a hand on Pricker Patch’s back. “I apologize for my bluntness, but do I knowyou?”
The woman’s expression grew even stormier. “I’m Melody—a music mage,” she said, her tone stiff. “We met at the christening of PrincessRosalinda.”
It took a moment before Angelique was able to place her—and it tookallof her self-control to keep her eyes fromwidening.
When she met Melody, the music mage appeared to be roughly in her early twenties with flawless skin, a stick-slender body, and bigeyes.
She was still beautiful and slender, but she had smile lines now, and a streak of silver complimented her lighthair.
I forgot that mages age only a little bit slower than regular humans. I saw it in Stil, obviously, but besides him, I really only see other enchanters and enchantresses. There is Sybilla, of course, but now that I think of it, I don’t know that she’s aged at all from when I first met her…curious…
“Hello, Melody.” Angelique slightly bowed her head in a gesture of respect. “It is a pleasant surprise to encounter youagain.”
(Not really, given that Melody had spent the majority of the time at the Christening giving Angelique dark looks, but given the warm way she watched Lord Enchanter Evariste, it was hardly surprising. It seemed like most females who admired Evariste all followed such behavioral patterns. He had seemed oblivious to their feelings, but he also had never treated any of them with the familiarity and warmth he showered on Angelique. She used to squawk whenever he hugged her, andnow…)
“King Torgen is dead,” Melody said, pulling Angelique from her regret-filledthoughts.
Angelique nodded. “Yes.”
Melody slightly pursed her lips. “We’re supposed to stay out ofpolitics.”
“Stil didn’t kill him,” Angelique mildly pointedout.
“No, he just incited the Snow Queen’s magic to do it for him.” Melody sighed—a sound so musical it almost sounded like a strum of aharp.
“What the king was doing—the way he acted—was wrong,” Angelique pointedout.
“Yes,” Melody admitted. “But it is not our place to mete out justice or decide who should rule.” She studied Angelique with eyes that were more wary thanangry.
Small blessing, I suppose.She really disliked me when we lastmet.
