Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales #4)
Page 47“I’m going with you, Gemma.”
Gemma opened and closed her mouth twice before saying, “Why?” in a voice that indicated the mage had lost his wits.
“Because I want to see you safe.”
“Craftmage Stil,” Gemma said, drawing her shoulders up and facing Stil with the same bravado with which she had faced King Torgen. “You need not be concerned with your obligation to help the weak. Once I am free, I will be my own responsibility.”
“Your flight has nothing to do with my obligation,” Stil countered. “Also, I find it interesting that it takes a marriage proposal to make you animated and talkative.”
Gemma clenched both of her hands in fists before shouting, “You cannot lead me around like a goat for the rest of my life!”
Stil laughed at the comparison.
“STIL!”
“I know, I’m sorry,” the mage laughed, holding his sides.
“Gemma, I am concerned for you not because of any mage code or responsibility, but because I genuinely like you,” Stil said.
Gemma pushed an eyebrow up.
“It’s true,” Stil said.
“Forgive my disbelief, but magic users rarely make friends with civilians. Royalty? Perhaps. Scholars, occasionally. But seamstresses from Ostfold? Never,” Gemma flatly said.
“I see your point, but the attachment is already made. Now, if we are traveling together, I owe you an explanation for my reluctance to travel at night.”
“Sir Mage,” Gemma groaned.
“I’m in Verglas not for any great reason, except that I am being tracked by a creature of darkness, and he cannot force his way past the Snow Queen’s residual magic.”
Gemma’s protests died on her lips.
Gemma wordlessly plopped down on a stool near Stil’s chair. So that was why he reacted so oddly to news of the hellhound tracks, she realized.
“He has been chasing me for the better part of a year and following me for much longer. At first, I was able to keep well ahead of him with ease. But he grew stronger, somehow. By the time I finally thought to head to Mullberg to get to the Veneno Conclave, it was too late. The rider and his animals gained so much strength through darkness that they almost caught me. Thankfully I managed to escape to Verglas, and I have been trapped here ever since, for well over a month.”
“But…you’re a mage,” Gemma said.
“Craftmage, Gemma. My fighting capabilities are limited.”
“No, no, no,” Gemma said, waving her hand as if she could wash his words away. “I mean, you’re a mage. Wouldn’t other magical folk from the Veneno Conclave help you?”
“I can’t flee there. The mountains between Mullberg and Verglas would be the perfect place for the rider to trap me. I’ve tried sending out word, but magic users are spread thin already.”
Gemma tilted her head. “What? Whatever for?”
“You are disconnected from it all as the Snow Queen’s magic has held your borders, but the rest of the world is under direct assault by darkness,” Stil grimly said. “The Sole crown princess—the only heir to the Sole throne—has fallen into a cursed sleep. There’s a powerful, black sorcerer who has been plaguing Kozlovka for years, but they stupidly didn’t think to tell the Conclave about it until recently. Trolls are troubling Farset, and goblins are raiding in Erlauf. No one knows what’s happening in Ringsted. The Chronos Mountains are impassable, and the coast is riddled with giant storms. It takes multiple weather mages to force clear seas for sailing.”
“Deathly so.”
“I never knew—I don’t think anyone in Verglas knows.”
“It’s excusable. All of Verglas has been occupied dancing to the tune of your mad, crazed king.”
Gemma shook her head.
“And it’s not all bad,” Stil continued. “A prince of Loire was cursed for three or so years. He broke it not quite two years ago, which is fortuitous because Loire has been instrumental in cracking down on any sort of darkness. Erlauf is about to crown a new queen, and she’s brilliant. With her at the head of the country and her husband in the army, they will squash the goblin uprisings.”
“What you aren’t saying is that the world is in great upheaval, and you are forced to go at this alone as a result,” Gemma said.