“Watch your mouth, Glaze,” Firra warnedher.
“Indeed,” the weather mage drawled. “War mages hardly have the corner on disreputablebehavior.”
Stil snorted. “Because weather mages are known for their calm and peacefulpersonalities.”
“At leastwehave more self-discipline than to go rambling around the continent atwill!”
“It’s sad,” Gemma abruptly said, silencing the groupagain.
“What is, darling?” Stil smiled affectionately at hiswife.
Gemma didn’t return it, but instead she held the gazes of the mages. “Every common child is raised to respect mages. To venerate them.” She slightly shook her head. “I never imagined you’d be capable of such despicable behavior and be willing to sacrifice one of your own for a stupid thing likepride.”
She grabbed her embroidery and stood, leaving the silent library with her head heldhigh.
In that moment, Angelique saw just what had made Stil fall desperately in love with the younglady.
Once Gemma left, the argument didn’t renew. Instead, the mages exchanged guilty glances and avoided looking at Angelique as they stood and slowly made their way to thedoor.
Angelique smiled when Stil, then Firra and Donaigh turned to peer at her. She made a flicking motion with her hand. “We should leave as well,” she said. “I imagine it’s almostlunch.”
“Technically we never resolved who should join you in Kozlovka,” Donaigh pointedout.
“It’s fine,” Angeliqueinsisted.
Firra groaned as she pushed her chair back from the table. “This is almost as bad as dealing with KingGiuseppe.”
“Don’t say that.” Donaigh shuddered. “It makes me remember what a wet fish heis.”
Firra laughed, and soon Donaigh joined her, holding the door open for her before they slippedout.
Stil adjusted the crisp lines of his tunic and eyed Angelique. He, Angelique, and Sybilla and Sano—who were exchanging a hushed conversation at the end of the table—were the only remainingmages.
“They’re idiots. You know that, right?” Stilasked.
Angelique tapped her fingers on the table. “Is it as bad as itseems?”
“What?”
“How they view me—do theyreallysee me as something barelyhuman?”
Stil sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Everyone is scared,” he said finally. “Because of what has happened—because of what’s going on. And whenever there is fear, we like to create personal boogey men. You are not meant for bloodshed, Angelique. That’s their idiocytalking.”
Though she didn’t believe a word of it, Angelique nodded. She finally stood, idly clenching the soft fabric of her skirts in her fists. “I’m happy you foundGemma.”
Stil grinned broadly. “Me, too.” He ambled toward the library door, most likely to find hiswife.
Angelique reluctantly followed him but was stopped when Sybilla caught her by thehand.
“We need to talk, Angelique,” shesaid.
Angelique stared at the ground. “Aboutwhat?”
“About what just took place.” Sybilla sighed as the glass of her spectacles glinted. “But right now isn’t the time. Promise me you’ll make time for a good discussion before the Summit isover?”
“Ipromise.”
“Good.” Sybilla nodded. “Until then, ignore Finnr. He knows better, but sometimes…” She shook her head andsighed.
