Rumpelstiltskin (Timeless Fairy Tales #4)

“Enough, Stil,” Angelique said before she and the craftmage fell out of hearing range.

Gemma watched them go, pressing her lips together in worry. “They will be alright,” she whispered.

Her reverie was broken by Pricker Patch, who stomped his hooves.

“Yes, I’m going. I’ll bring hay for the…guest too,” Gemma said, glancing at Angelique’s unusual animal.

Gemma ignored Stil’s orders and immediately fetched hay and a bit of grain for both of the equines.

Pricker Patch ate his hay with delight—or as much delight as the stoic donkey ever showed—and Pegasus lipped his and shook it around. When it became apparent he wasn’t going to eat it, Gemma gave the extra hay to Pricker Patch and tried feeding the strange horse grain instead.

He ate that, and Gemma had just tempted him into drinking lukewarm water when there was a loud explosion that shook the ground.

Pegasus launched into motion, rearing and snorting with a noise that was even less horse-like than his body. Gemma jumped backwards and yelped.

Pricker Patch ate his hay.

Gemma retreated to Pricker Patch’s side and leaned against him for warmth and support. Darkness fell like a suffocating mantle, and Gemma dug in her pockets for one of the seven or eight starfires Stil had given her.

“Shine,” she whispered to the prism. The crystal glowed, bathing the makeshift camp in soft, white light.

It was several minutes—several very long minutes—before Gemma saw the spot of light through the trees that was Angelique’s glowing dress.

“Brighter,” Gemma said to the prism as the magic users approached. Its fire kindled again; its light shone brighter.

“How did it go?” Gemma asked when Angelique and Stil drew close enough.

Stil clasped his hands over his head and shook them. “Victory!”

“He exaggerates,” Angelique said, removing one of her hands from her white muff to touch her hair. “I did not manage to eradicate the rider.”

“But you landed him an exceptional wound,” Stil said. “He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs to recover.”

“Are you certain?” Gemma asked.

“Positive. Well done, Angelique. You didn’t even have to use your core magic,” Stil said.

“It’s for the better. The Conclave is still mad at me about Arcainia,” Angelique said before she boosted herself onto her mount’s back.

“That’s unfortunate,” Stil said.

“Wait, you’re leaving already?” Gemma asked.

“I said I would leave tonight.”

“But you aren’t coming inside at all? Don’t you want a bit of supper?” Gemma asked.

“Nothing would delight me more, but great haste is required at the moment,” Angelique said.

“Are you sure?” Gemma said.

“Why does it seem that you don’t want to be alone with me?” Stil asked.

“I could make tea,” Gemma said.

Angelique smiled, stealing Gemma’s breath with her beauty. “You are too kind, but I must refuse. Don’t worry. He won’t eat you alive,” she said, turning her horse in a circle.

Gemma said nothing but laid her head against Pricker Patch’s thick neck.

“Wait a moment, Angelique. I have something for you,” Stil said, disappearing into the tent. When he emerged, he carried the black cloak he used to wear. He passed it up to the beautiful enchantress.

“Your cloak?” Angelique blinked. “I noticed you have a new one, but…,”

“Most of the magic is drained from it,” Stil admitted. “But it still has a few good spells left in the cloth that you might find useful—invisibility, heat and cooling charms, and fire resistance.”

“I see. Thank you,” Angelique said, her voice warm with affection as she tucked the cloak into her saddlebag with her muff.

Stil bowed at the waist. “Safe journeys,” he said.

“To you, as well. I look forward to the next time we meet—that includes you, Gemma,” Angelique said.

“Good luck,” Gemma said.

“Thank you. Farewell,” Angelique said before leaning over her horse’s neck. Pegasus leapt forward into a canter. He seemed to glow as he ran, resembling a comet the way his fiery tail streamed behind him.

Stil and Gemma watched until the horse and rider disappeared.

When they were gone, Stil turned to smile at Gemma. “I see you are using a starfire. How do you like them?” Stil asked.

“Dim,” Gemma said to the prism, which grew dimmer in response. “Quite a bit. They are very useful. Thank you.”

Stil shrugged. “It’s just a trinket, but I’m glad you like them.”

The craftmage was quiet as he ran his hands over Pricker Patch and checked the donkey’s feet. “I’m glad you’re coming to Loire with me,” he finally said.

“I haven’t yet agreed to call upon their majesties Prince Severin and Princess Elle,” Gemma said.

“I am choosing to thank you in advance. Or, I will stay with you in Noyers as long as it takes to convince you to travel with me,” Stil said. The silver embroidery on his shoulders glowed in the moonlight and the dim illumination of Gemma’s starfire.