Based on what he had observed, her magic was limited to creatures—no humans or objects—and the painting had to be well done. (A crude stick figure would not bring a troll to her side.) Moreover, she didn’t create the creatures—they already existed. She could only summonthem.
I don’t understand how the Veneno Conclave is unaware of her. She said she attended there as a student, but mages with teleportation magic—even with limits like hers—are sorare.
Evariste would know. He had a particularly useful brand of magic that let him make transportation gates, allowing anyone passage to whatever location Evaristedesired.
I suppose I don’t know how old she is. Though she has an adult son nearly my age, she is powerful. It’s possible she has the lifespan of an enchantress if she has enoughmagic.
Time slowly tickedby.
Evariste held still—even though he was getting a cramp in his neck, and the spot between his shoulder blades pincheduncomfortably.
In the suffocating silence of the mirror, Evariste could make out the steady stroke of Liliane’s paintbrush.
He made himself remain motionless, even when he heard her magic click into place. Shortly after, the cavern was filled with the squawks of angry harpies—creatures that were a twisted combination of vultures with humanoidfaces.
“You’re to go to Baris,” Lilianeinstructed.
The harpieshissed.
“I don’t care if the royal family is hunting your forces down,” Lilaine started. “You must keep up your pressure there, or Baris will realize what’s going on. If their distraction is bought with blood, so be it.Go.” The orders soundedwrongas Liliane’s voice was warm andbright.
More squawks, the rustling of feathers, and the click of talons on stone grew louder, then faded as the harpies stalked from the cavechamber.
Liliane was still present—Evariste could hear her fussing with her completedpainting.
I guess now is about time for me to “wake.”
Evariste groaned loudly and opened and closed his clenchedhands.
Liliane’s approach was marked by her footsteps as Evariste drew out his performance.Though my chest feels like someone has been carving at it with a dull dagger, I now wake up relatively alert. But I’d rather have them think I’m as helpless as alamb.
He opened his eyes, blinking blearily and groaning again as he slowly moved his head into a more comfortable position. “What?” he growled when he saw Liliane standing in front of the pane of his mirror. (It was the only part not covered in the endless grayness, and it acted as Evariste’s window to theoutside.)
Liliane thoughtfully tapped her chin. “I’m not sure if it’s disappointing or gratifying to see you, the treasured prodigy of the Veneno Conclave, brought so low so easily. Your constitution is worse than weexpected.”
Evariste coughed and made himself move slowly—which wasn’t too difficult as every muscle in his body ached after his magic was drained. “How could it bedisappointing?”
“Because if you’re one of the greatest the Conclave has to offer, it’s maddening that it has taken us so long to best them.” Liliane made a long-suffering sigh as she wrapped a lock of her hair around herfinger.
She was deceptively beautiful—with blonde hair that hung in ringlets, sparkling eyes, and an inviting smile. And while most of the black mages favored darker shades for their clothes, Liliane was dressed in a gown of lavender velvet with silver embroidery. Fragrant white flowers were tucked into her hair and woven around her right wrist in abracelet.
But for all of her smiles and look of innocence, there was something dark in her that played in the shadows of her eyes and the way her expressions seemed more like a mask—as if she hadn’t learned how to smile as a child and had only been instructed how to feign it as anadult.
“So long?” Evariste asked, grasping the importance of Liliane’s off-handed remark. “You speak as if you have been at this forcenturies.”
Liliane smiled and raised an eyebrow. “And to think I assumed you were intelligent.” She fussed for a moment with one of the flowers in her hair. “Though perhaps you have a point. Despite the generations of planning, it wasn’t until my husband passed away in a tiny skirmish in Baris that wefinallybegan makingprogress.”
Generations ofplanning?
“And now our strategies are finally coming to fruition. Once Acri returns, the bloodshed can trulybegin.”
Evariste wanted to curse at Acri’s name—he was Liliane’s dark and twisted son who had been sent out to killAngelique.
He knew Angelique could best the deadly young mage…if she used her war magic. And that was something she had refused to do since the day Evariste took her on as hisapprentice.
But Liliane had dispatched Acri weeks ago, and he had yet to return. That alone was highlyencouraging.
Evariste boosted himself up so he stood, though he took a few tottering steps for show. “You’re waiting on him? Why? He’s obviously no match for Angelique. It’s been weeks since he left, and yet he hasn’t returned to skulk around in your shadow.” (Though it wasn’t part of a proper plan, Evariste made it his business to insult and ruffle the black mages as much as possible. In particular, he enjoyed upsetting Liliane—who seemed susceptible to insults about herappearance.)
