Page 106 of The Prince and His Stolen Throne
He assessed her in a frank manner. “Then you must be one of the champions trying to dethrone him.”
Angelica realized this man was probably the evil mage’s friend. She began to drape the cloth back over the mirror.
“Wait.” His calm, unhurried tone made her pause. “I’m no friend of Brutus’—not anymore, at least. He has something I want; I might have information you need. Perhaps we can assist each other.”
Angelica pursed her lips. She wasn’t eager to trade with a stranger, let alone one on questionable terms with an evil mage, but she didn’t want to dismiss him out of hand. “I’m looking for a spell anchor, but I don’t know what it will look like.” She made it a statement, not a question, afraid asking for his help would bind her in some unfavorable magical bargain.
“Magical,” he replied promptly. “I’mlooking for an apprentice named Wilde.” When she didn’t react to the name, he continued, “Blond hair, black eyes, spends a lot of time around one member of your group?”
She furrowed her brow as she thought of the only person who matched that description. “Do you meanWill? Trey’s boyfriend?”
“Trey as in Treasure Banes?”
She nodded.
The man cursed softly under his breath. “That is … less than ideal.”
As the pieces clicked into place, a disturbing thought occurred to Angelica. “Wait, the Lord of Grimnight has something you want, and you want his apprentice, and Will—Wilde—is a mage’s apprentice, then that means—”
A pale hand reached past Angelica and grabbed the edge of the black cloth, pulling it down to cover the mirror and cut off her conversation. “Your presence is requested in the throne room.”
She whirled around to find a black-cloaked figure behind her, the hood pulled up to cover their face. Two lacertians stood behind them, brandishing a length of rope.
Angelica lunged forward, determined to confirm her suspicions. Her hand gripped the edge of the hood and yanked it a few inches down, exposing a fall of white-blond hair. Before she could fully reveal their face, the lacertians grabbed her and tugged her away from the cloaked figure.
“I know who you are!” she cried, trashing against her captors. One bound her hands behind her back while the other stuffed a gag into her mouth.
The apprentice gave a low, humorless laugh. “Soon, so will everyone else.” He disappeared, leaving the minions to escort Angelica to her meeting with the Lord ofGrimnight.
Crash!
Delilah waited for a moment, looking at the shards of the decorative vase she’d smashed on the floor. When no magical ripples spread from it or through the foliage covering the floor, she decided it probably was not the anchor.
Fitz’s shoulders were hunched up near his ears. “Could you be alittlemore subtle in your destruction? Someone is going to find us.”
“Nope,” Delilah replied before knocking another vase off a bookshelf. “Why are thereso manyvases in here? Whose officewasthis?”
Fitz cleared a patch of flowering vines off the desk until he found a bronze plaque. “Melinda Halsey, Court Recorder. Collecting vases was probably a hobby that had nothing to do with her work.”
“Oh.” Delilah looked at the next vase in her lineup, a pretty pale porcelain covered in pink flowers. “So she had to leave everything behind when she ran from the Lord of Grimnight?”
“Probably.”
Delilah plucked the vase from the shelf and cradled it delicately in her hands. How long had Melinda saved up for this collection? It must have brought her joy during the long, tedious workdays. She’d abandoned everything when she’d fled from the evil mage …
“Champions!” a loud, sibilant voice called from the hallway.
The vase slipped from Delilah’s hands and fell to the ground with a particularly loud crash. Pieces of porcelain flew everywhere, tangling in the plants, lost forever.
And the curse still didn’t break.
Delilah stamped her foot. “This isn’t fair! Stupid evil mages ruining people’s lives! Stupid minions startling me!” Guilt soured in her stomach, but she determinedly fermented it into anger. “You keep searching, I’ll take care of the minion!”
She dashed out of the room, claws extended, and fangs bared in a hiss.
The lacertian stepped back in surprise at her sudden appearance. “Ah, there you are.” They eyed her warily. “Your presence is requested—”
Delilah lunged, landing on the minion’s head. Her claws scraped uselessly off their scales. She scrabbled for a hold, eventually wrapping her legs under their armpits, and grabbing their head so that she didn’t slide off the slippery surface.
