Page 24 of Madness of Her Mages

Something was amiss. It wasn’t like my favorite nursemaid to avoid eye contact, and I felt like a foolish troll for not noticing it sooner. “Are you alright?”

She flashed a smile that didn’t mask the sadness in her bloodshot eyes. “The nursery had been empty for so long. It was so nice having the sound of laughing children fill it once more.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she’d grown attached to the girls. The sprites had a way of burrowing inside my heart, too.

“We will return as soon as we can,” I said, the words feeling false even to my own ears. Even if we survived this war, I doubted our queen would let us leave Thebes with her niece. Shiri was an Avias and belonged in Thebes, and we belonged with our mate.

“Of course.” There was no mistaking the doubt reflecting in her eyes. “You had a question?”

I blinked at her a moment, thinking about how I should word my question without causing too much alarm. “Do you remember the herb the satyrs brewed for memory?”

She scratched the back of her head. “There are a few.”

“I remember you brewing a tea for expectant mothers,” I said, thinking of the many human servants who’d come to her for her morning sickness cure. “It calmed the mind and helped with memory.”

“Oh!” Her eyes lit up as she clasped her hands together. “Will we be adding to our nursery soon?”

“Not that I know of.” A wave of guilt washed over me when her features fell. I felt bad disappointing her. Truthfully, I hoped the herbal tea I’d been giving Shiri to prevent pregnancy was working. I wanted children, but not until after the war ended and all demons were exterminated. My brothers and I had enough to worry about with keeping Shiri and the girls safe. “But it’s best to prepare just in case.” I didn’t feel like explaining to her the true reason for the herbs. I vaguely remembered reading about these herbs in my botany books. Something about offering protection from memory spells.

“Of course.” She grabbed a lantern and motioned for me to follow her to the cellar beneath the kitchen, the sound of her hooves echoing down the stone stairwell. We walked through several adjoining musty caverns with ceilings so low I had to duck to keep the tops of my wings from scraping against the moss-covered rocks. The cellar was dark and dank, lit only by a few flickering wall sconces, and it smelled of mold, earth, oak, and some unnamable fragrant fruit. After we reached the last room with vines hanging from the ceiling and stacked shelves with drying herbs, she led me toward rows of barrels in the back. She handed me a prybar, and I used it to open the barrel’s tight seal. As soon as the lid was released, I was hit with avery distinctive, pungent odor, and I was assailed by long ago memories from my childhood potions lessons.

“Retinea. It’s a specialty of the satyrs. Some say it’s why the satyrs are such renowned storytellers.” She tapped her forehead with a wink. “For our memories are always sharp.”

“Where is it grown?” I asked as I picked up a long stalk of the dried purple flowers.

“Only two accessible places that I know of—in our garden and in Dunhull.”

“The satyr village?” I often wondered if our nursemaid would’ve been happier living at Dunhull with her own kind instead of here. She rarely mentioned the home where her great-grandparents had come from.

“Yes. Most Fae don’t care for the taste.” She made a face. “I admit it’s a little bitter, but it’s not bad with enough honey.”

“Do you have any you can spare?” I asked.

“Of course.” She motioned to the rows of barrels behind me. “It grows in abundance.” She handed me a burlap sack.

“Thank you.” I stuffed it with dried flowers before following her back up the stairs.

“I hope it helps,” she said as I took my leave of the kitchen.

“So do I.” I shuddered to think what would happen if we couldn’t protect our minds from the evil mage who killed my parents and plunged our country into darkness. I wanted my mind to stay sharp, not just to protect my family, but so I could turn him to ash.

Shiri

THE MORNING SUN HADpeeked over the horizon in fair ribbons of pink and gold when we emerged onto the castle turret. Though it was spring, it was especially cold this morning,something I’d grown used to in Southern Delfi. The girls and I were dressed warmly with fur-lined cloaks and thick wool stockings. Their long eyelashes were still dusted with tears after being forced to say goodbye to their nursemaid. How I hated having to separate them from Mrs. Euphemia. The poor darlings had already lost so much in such a short time.

The girls held my hands while blinking at the army of fire mages gathered on the battlements. My mates flanked us in a V formation with Drae at the helm, his wings blocking out most of the frigid winds as more fire mages and a few witches in various colored cloaks moved past us.

We found the sorceress queen at the edge of the furthest turret, sitting along the wall while surveying her army that swarmed the turrets like a hive of bees. Behind her was the most frightful horse I’d ever seen with a long, pointed snout, a slick, inky coat, and black feathered wings. And was that blood dripping from its maw? No. It couldn’t have been. The beast let out a wicked neigh that reminded me of a dying raven’s caw.

My aunt went to the horse, patting its snout and then handing it what looked like a melting apple. The horse snatched it out of her hand with a brutal snap of its sharp teeth. Had that been an apple or an animal’s organ? No, horses were vegetarians, weren’t they?

My nieces gasped, pressing into my skirts.

“It’s a monster, Auntie,” Aurora hissed.

“Don’t be afraid,” I whispered.

I fought my fear when my aunt wiped her hands on her leather pants. I’d never seen a woman in men’s trousers before. My mother would’ve called her attire indecent. Then again, she’d said worse things about her twin before.

“Good morning, Lords Inferni.” My aunt gave my mates a curt nod before turning to me. “Shirina.”

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