Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales Book 4) (16 page)

“You are a smart girl. Try to figure it out. I think you will find there is one easy conclusion.”

“Except that conclusion is
impossible
,” Gemma squeaked, scared out of her usual indifference when Stil stepped around the settee. Gemma circled it to keep it between herself and the mage.

“Why is it so impossible that I should love you—,”

“NO!” Gemma shouted.

“Oh, come now. You can’t really think I am doing this because I’m a flirt,” Stil chuckled before he lunged around the settee.

Frightened by the throaty noise, Gemma fled to the far side of the room, scampering behind the second settee. “Mages don’t fall in love with normal people!”

“In your defense, you are not normal,” Stil said, strolling across the parlor.

“You…are,” Gemma struggled for a moment. “Blinded by your, ah, inaccessibility to other mages. What you’re feeling isn’t real.”

“Gemma.”

Gemma was starting to get a better hold on herself and was able to bring down the octave of her voice. “I thought you were acting oddly. The fine clothes and the bedroom, accompanying me to the border instead of sending me on my way like any proper storybook magician. Clearly, you are under some sort of mental strain,” Gemma said, faking out Stil to make him circle around the settee again, leaving her to flee in the opposite direction.

When she was safe on the other side of the settee, she smoothed her dress and lifted her chin. “Love affairs between mages and seamstresses just aren’t done,” she finished primly before leaping out of the way when Stil tried to pounce on her.

“Gemma.”

“What?”

“Why else do you think I demanded your firstborn child as a payment for spinning?” Stil said, carefully enunciating the words.

Gemma blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“If I didn’t love you, why would I want your firstborn?”

“To be a house-servant? I don’t know! Magic folk are
all
eccentric. We did establish that I don’t want children, so it hardly matters,” Gemma said.

“It matters because my required payment means if you ever change your mind,
I
will be your child’s father.”

Gemma screwed up her face. “You are the most ridiculous mage—,” her words died on her lips as she recalled Stil’s odd wording. She hadn’t paid much attention—mostly because she didn’t particularly
want
children, and the idea of getting married was so far off and unlikely after all she went through it wasn’t like it mattered.

But the
wording
. He had said, “Your firstborn child will be
mine
.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes. “You,” she growled.

Stil’s eyebrows popped up. “So, now you’re mad?”

“Of COURSE I’m mad, you sneaky, conniving, mage!” Gemma said, whipping a pillow at the craftmage.

“I must say I pictured many reactions when I confessed my love to you. Rage was not one of them,” Stil said, ducking the pillow.

“How could you do this!?”

“Why are we shouting?”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

There was a creak, and Stil and Gemma turned to face the front door.

A woman stood in the doorway. The most beautiful woman in the world, in fact. Stil was handsome, but this woman had such great beauty it made Gemma’s soul hurt just to look at her.

The woman wore an opalescent dress that was in the process of changing from a shade of pale green to a pale blue. “I seem to have caught you at a bad time,” she said in a voice that was so lovely it was breathtaking. “I’ll just go for now.”

“Come back in an hour,” Stil said.

“Wait!” Gemma called, instantly recognizing the woman for who she must be—a magic user. Gemma rushed across the parlor. “You must be here to see Stil. I apologize for our loud discussion, but you have not interrupted anything. Please, come in. Can I get you something to drink?” Gemma asked, angling to get out of the room and as far away from Stil as possible.

To her shock, the beautiful woman stared at her for a moment before bursting into tears—still looking breathtaking and gorgeous as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Gemma helplessly looked to Stil, who hurried forward, his forehead creased with worry. He slid an arm around the beautiful woman’s back to guide her to a settee. When she was seated, he crouched in front of her. “Angelique, what’s wrong?”

Chapter 14

Gemma carefully carried a full tea tray down the hallway, pausing when she reached the parlor door. It was cracked, and she could hear the conversation taking place inside.

“I
hate
crying,” the beautiful woman—Stil had called her Angelique—sniffed. “It’s so useless, and it only serves to make a person damp and weary,” she said before crying again.

“I’m certain that after all you’ve gone through, and after all you’ve done, you deserve a good cry,” Stil said, his voice soft. The craftmage was silent as the beautiful woman cried harder. It wasn’t the gentle sniff she made with her beautiful tears earlier. It was the sound of a person’s heart breaking.

“I can’t find him, Stil,” Angelique cried. “I have looked everywhere and combed every country, and I haven’t found a hint of him! I even forced my way to Ringsted to see if he was carried down there. Nothing.”

“You’ll find him.”

“No, I won’t! I haven’t any place left to look! I have tracked him with magic; I have looked for him in enchanted mirrors; and I have even tried to use our bond as master and apprentice. Nothing works! He might be—,”

Dead
.

Although the beautiful magic user couldn’t bring herself to say it, even Gemma could feel the word hanging in the air.

“I hate to mention this, but it must be connected to the evil and darkness that has been stirring across the continent,” Stil said. “The attacks against the countries and royalty are too well done to be coincidence. Whoever is responsible for this has been planning it for years. It is very likely they knew Enchanter Evariste needed to be removed before they could launch their first attack.”

“They seem to be doing a fine job of sabotaging themselves,” Angelique said, her voice growing stronger as her tears stopped. “Every blasted country I run into has someone cursed—a curse which can be broken by
true love
.”

Judging by the scornful tone of Angelique’s voice, the subject was a safe one to intrude upon, so Gemma nudged the door open wider and carried the tea tray into the parlor.

“I’m so sick of true love, the very thought makes me ill,” Angelique said. The beautiful lady was seated on a settee. Stil stood next to her, his arms folded across his chest.

“I know love is the most powerful, righteous emotion possible, but this is sheer folly,” Angelique continued. “The number of curses that have popped up in the past few years with love as the counter-agent is mind-boggling.”

“It does seem rather odd that such a wide-spread campaign to spread darkness would have such a specific, repeatable weakness,” Stil said, smiling at Gemma when she set the tea tray down. “One would think they would grow aware of this detail and change their arrangement.”

Gemma ignored him and served Angelique a cup of black tea.

“Why? Even if we manage to break the curses, I still wouldn’t say we are winning,” Angelique dully said. She shook her head and remembered her manners. “Thank you,” she said to Gemma with a serene smile, taking the teacup and saucer.

“Aye. There are plenty of predicaments that have yet to be addressed,” Stil said. “The Sole Princess, the Princesses of Farset, someone must take care of Kozlovka, and so on.”

Gemma moved to slip out of the parlor, but before she could leave the tea tray behind, Stil caught her wrist and anchored her to the spot.

Gemma tried to discreetly pull, unwilling to ruin the conversation but eager to leave the delusional Stil. His grip was as malleable as iron.

“It gets worse,” Angelique sighed wearily. “Ringsted is plagued by a sea witch.”

“What?” Stil blinked, surprise and unease coloring his voice.

Angelique nodded. “The selkies are trying to take care of her, but the humans are proving to be more of a hindrance than a help,” she sighed and sipped her tea. “I ran into a selkie that was forcibly landed—some terrible man stole her pelt.”

“
What?
”

“She feared he would make her use her powers over water for ill and asked me to seal her voice. I didn’t want to take it forever, so I gave her the only escape contract I have learned to use.”

“True love?” Stil asked.

“As usual,” Angelique said with some bitterness to her voice. “I meant to stay and help her, but I needed to be in Sole for the Princess’s birthday, and I was forced to leave her. I meant to return to Ringsted with Blanche and Rein, but then I received word that you were in trouble,” Angelique said, offering Stil a smile. Her eyes flicked curiously to Gemma, and Stil moved.

“Ah, please forgive my terrible manners. Allow me to introduce you with great pleasure to Gemma Kielland, one of the most talented seamstresses in the continent. Gemma, this is Enchantress Angelique—one of the highest ranked magic users in the Veneno Conclave.”

“Good afternoon,” Gemma said, curtseying.

“I am charmed, Gemma,” Angelique said with a smile as caressing as silk. “Although, I fear Stil has mislead you: I am only an enchantress in training.”

Stil heaved a disgusted sigh worthy of Pricker Patch. “Everyone knows you have the capabilities. It’s is merely that with Enchanter Evariste…missing, he cannot bring you to the Conclave and declare you. You’re an enchantress, Angelique.”

Angelique delicately shook her head. “If I was ready to be an enchantress I would know more ways to counter curses besides using love,” she said. She watched Gemma try to pull her hand from Stil’s grasp without success. “I received your letter. You said you were being followed?” Angelique asked.

“Hunted, really,” Stil said. “By a hellhound and a rider mounted on a nightmare.”

Angelique’s teacup clicked when she set it down abruptly. “What? How can this be?”

“I don’t know. I don’t understand why, either,” Stil said. “But it’s why I fled to Verglas.”

“You were smart to do so,” Angelique said, knitting her fingers together as she thought. “Is the rider chasing you as well?” Angelique asked, looking to Gemma.

“No. Absolutely not,” Gemma said.

“Gemma is fleeing the country with me. She’s in a spot of trouble with King Torgen,” Stil said.

“Ah, him,” Angelique said knowingly.

“With all respect, Craftmage Stil, you were going to take me to the border, and then we were going to part ways,” Gemma said.

“Yes, but now we don’t have to. Angelique will take care of the rider for me, won’t you?” Stil said, turning to the beautiful enchantress.

Angelique sighed. “Sometimes you overestimate my capabilities.”

“No, I don’t. If your learned magic fails, you will just have to rely on your core magic. The rider is no match for
that
,” Stil said.

“Core magic?” Gemma asked, too curious to let the comment pass her.

“Enchanters are the highest rank of magic user there is,” Angelique said.

Gemma nodded.

“This is because we are able to use two types of magic: core magic and learned magic. Core magic is something all magic users have. It is what decides their focus. Stil’s core magic is craft related. Weather mages have weather core magic, and so on. All enchanters and enchantresses have core magic as well—although the kind and strength varies from enchanter to enchanter. It is our learned magic that gives us a higher rank. Learned magic—things like curse breaking, enchantments, working with elements, charms, general magic—are things only enchanters and enchantresses display the ability to learn.”

“For instance, no matter how hard I study, I can never control rain,” Stil said. “But Angelique—to a certain extent—can.”

“I see,” Gemma said.

“There are checks and balances of course,” Angelique said. “As an enchantress, I will never be as powerful in weather magic as a weather mage. And no enchanters are capable of infusing magic into weapons like Stil is—although that is to be expected as he is a genius in his core magic,” Angelique smiled.

The embarrassed smile Stil exposed made Gemma pause. She looked back and forth between Angelique and Stil as she realized,
Angelique is the person who taught him about the obligation to help those in need. She is the magic user that is precious to him
.

Gemma wryly lifted an eyebrow.
In love with me, indeed. Now that the original is here, there is no need to settle for a lesser, like me.

“Enchanters and enchantresses generally have highly specialized types of core magic, too, and they are typically very powerful,” Stil added. “Angelique’s Master is considered to be one of the greatest magic users since the Snow Queen. He was the youngest enchanter ever approved,” Stil added. “But we are getting off topic. Angelique, I know you can destroy the rider with your core magic.”

“Perhaps if I was approved to
use
my core magic. The Conclave still hasn’t agreed to it,” Angelique said. For Gemma’s benefit she added, “My apprenticeship was and continues to be unusual because my core magic makes most…squeamish.”

“I see,” Gemma said, politely refraining from further questions.

“Regardless, I am certain I could drive the rider off for a time,” Angelique said. “Although we will have to be careful. The forest is crawling with soldiers.”

“Pardon?” Gemma said.

“They’re King Torgen’s men. At first I thought
they
were the followers you referred to in your letter, Stil. But now I suppose they are searching for you, Gemma?” Angelique asked.

Gemma shifted uncomfortably. “Yes,” she said.

Angelique smiled. “Do not worry yourself over it. You are safe in Stil’s home, and the border is but a short ride away.”

“Is it? That’s a relief,” Stil said. “It feels like molasses runs faster than Pricker Patch is willing to move.”

“Perhaps Pegasus can speak sense into him, although I fear he is growing to be just as ornery as your donkey,” Angelique said. “The time away from Master Evariste has been hard on him.”

Stil shrugged. “Pets,” he said. “But, it would appear we are here for the night, so we should enjoy it. Tonight we will have a feast,” Stil promised.

“I look forward to it,” Angelique smiled.

“It will take me a while to get everything ready. Do you need to see to Pegasus or anything?” Stil asked.

“No, but if you do not mind, I think I would like…rest for a while,” Angelique said, standing up.

“Certainly. Any of the rooms are open—except mine and the frost room,” Stil said, finally releasing Gemma. “Take all the time you need,” he added, calling over his shoulder as he left the parlor.

“Except for…Gemma, are you in the last room in the hallway?” Angelique asked.

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Angelique said, her eyes wide. She turned a thoughtful eye on Gemma and studied her from head to toe. “I’m glad you are so lovely. If you will excuse me, I will see you at our banquet.”

When the enchantress left, Gemma stood, alone, in the parlor, trying to organize her thoughts. “
I’m
lovely?” she snorted. She shook her head and looked around the room for the cape she made Stil. She didn’t see it—he must have carried it off or stowed it while she was fetching tea.

Recalling the cape made Gemma, unfortunately, recall Stil’s reaction.

“It’s just a phase,” she decided. “Now that Angelique has joined us, he will stop this foolishness.

“So, how long have you known Stil?” Angelique asked.

Gemma and Angelique were seated at a table in a dining room Gemma didn’t previously know existed. They had just finished the massive amount of food Stil—or, more correctly, Stil’s magical kitchen—had prepared for them. The craftmage was off getting dessert. Gemma didn’t think she had any room to spare, and she thought they had already eaten dessert between the fresh fruits, candied nuts, and pastries, but Stil insisted she eat more.

So, Gemma and Angelique sat together, waiting for Stil to return.

It was a little awkward, truth be told.

“A few weeks,” Gemma said, clasping her hands in her lap. “And you, Lady Enchantress?”

“I’ve lost track of the time, but years. Would you like to know more?” the beautiful enchantress asked.

Lacking any other discussion topics, Gemma nodded.