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Elizabeth quickly recited the spell for Bonding and started to reach out to Darcy. Before she could complete it, Matlock cast an Ice spell on her, immobilizing her completely, and preventing her from accessing her magic.
“You must learn to follow orders, Elizabeth. You are a Royal Mage, and you cannot disobey a direct command. I am sorry, but I have no choice but to stop you from using your magic. I will decide later if I am going to charge you with mutiny.”
Elizabeth stared in shock at Matlock. How could he do this to her, when Darcy’s life was at stake?
“Take her and lock her in the cellar.”
Their faces impassive, the footmen picked her up by the armpits and carried her down to the cellar. She could not move. She could not speak. And she could not sense or use magic. She had never felt so useless in her life. She could not do anything to save Darcy.
They left her on the floor inside de Riquer’s room. As the door slammed, she heard the unmistakable sound of the door being bolted from the outside. Now that she was inside the Wards, Matlock’s magic unraveled. The Wards had undone his spell. She could get up from the floor, but what use was that to her when she could not use her magic to Bond with Darcy?
She looked around for the other occupant. In the thick darkness, she could not see him at all.
“Welcome back to the dungeon, Mrs. Darcy.”
De Riquer’s voice grated on her skin like nails on a window.
“Stay away. I know what you have done.”
A light flared into existence and revealed de Riquer sitting in his bed. He had the bleary-eyed expression of someone who had just woken up. He swung to the edge of the bed and brought his bare feet to the ground.
“Excuse me while I make myself presentable.”
She turned her back impatiently while he disappeared behind the screen in the corner of the room and started to put on his clothes. She had other matters to worry about, other than de Riquer’s appearance. Besides, she did not trust him. He must have seen her in the mirror and known that she was coming here.
“There is no point in feigning ignorance. I know what you are doing.”
He was helping Devereux defeat Darcy.
“I am feigning nothing,” said de Riquer. “I can see that you are distressed, Mrs. Darcy, but if you would tell me what is happening, I might have a clearer idea what I have done.”
Elizabeth threw him a look of disgust. “Do you really mean to deny that you are collaborating with Mr. Devereux to kill Darcy in the duel?”
“I deny it categorically,” said de Riquer, his thick brows drawing together. “I did not even know there was a duel. I must be losing my touch.”
Of course, he would deny it. Did she expect him to fall to his knees and confess? “I felt your magic.”
“Is the duel taking place now?”
“Yes. As we speak.”
“I am a powerful mage, Mrs. Darcy, but not so powerful that I can guide this Mr. Devereux from here, without the aid of a mirror, while I am talking to you.”
She glanced towards the mirror. It was covered.
Doubt began to seep in. If it was not de Riquer’s, then whose magic was it? She had to look through that mirror. She had to see what was happening to Darcy.
“Show me,” she commanded, her voice hard and sharp as a diamond. “I want to know what is going on. You owe me that much.”
Riquer sighed.
“I owe you nothing at all, Mrs. Darcy, but I will do what I can to help.” He walked over to the sheet that covered the mirror and pulled it away. “Where exactly did this duel take place?”
“It is taking place now. Outdoors, in the rose garden.”
“Roses and duels,” he murmured. “How very romantic.”
She glared at him. “Do not make light of this, sir.”
He spread out his hands. “My humble apologies. My tongue got the better of me.” He gave her an intent look. “You say the duel is in the rose garden. Do you remember what I told you about the limitations of my mirror magic?”
“Of course. You told me that you could not go beyond the walls of the house.”
“Precisely.”
She was so intent on her own train of thought, it took her a moment to register his meaning. She staggered mentally under the realization.
“Then show me what is happening inside the house.”
De Riquer spoke some words, then waved his hand in front of the mirror.
“It should work now. Think of a place inside the house.”
She envisioned the breakfast room. As the swirling fog slowly faded, the room came into view. There was no one there. It was dark and empty
“Now think of the garden.”
She recreated the walled garden in her mind, with the climbing roses, and the green grass, and Darcy facing Devereux. The mirror resumed its milky swirling, but nothing appeared in its depths.
She still did not quite believe de Riquer. “I would like to try it myself.” If he could use magic inside the Wards, then so could she.
He stepped aside. “Be my guest.”
She stood in front of the mirror, determined to use her own magic to force her way to the garden, even if the Wards did not allow it. She threw herself into the task, straining to make the mirror do her will. She tried to cast a spell of her own, then she tried to combine spells she had learned, all to no avail. Her magic simply did not work. The mist continued to swirl, but the surface remained opaque, unyielding.
“How ironic. Your own Wards are restricting your magic.” He was looking both amused and intrigued.
“I do not find that particularly diverting at this point.”
He shrugged. “It is useless to try in any case. The mirror simply does not work outside.”
It galled her that she had to depend on him. She imagined the breakfast room again. It re-appeared in the mirror, still empty. She could step into it and find a way to get back into the garden from the breakfast room. But the footmen would stop her, and she would have to grapple with them. Still, they would not be able to prevent her from Bonding with Darcy. She had to get out of the cellar.
“Help me go through,” she said.
De Riquer shook his head. “Think before you do that. You need to know first who is trying to kill both you and your husband. Your life may be in danger. Ironically, you are safer here. You should not leave until you have a good plan.”
She ignored him. De Riquer tossed the cloth onto the mirror, and the spell ended, preventing her from stepping inside.
Elizabeth glared at him. “Why are you stopping me from rescuing my husband?”
“What makes you think you can rescue him? Or that he even wants you to? A gentleman has his pride.”
His words made sense. Darcy had asked her not to interfere.
The wind left her sails, and she slumped down, deflated. Why did men have to be so stubborn? And how could Darcy expect her to remain confined, her feelings preying upon her, doing nothing?
But what else could she do? Now that she had calmed down, she realized it would be better not to set up a Bond with Darcy when he was not expecting it. That was what had injured Bingley and the others. She certainly did not wish Bingley’s affliction upon him.
Apart from that, what could she do?
She looked towards de Riquer. He had stopped her. What if he was up to something, and he did not wish her to discover it? What if he had cast a Compulsion spell on Devereux?
There was only one way to find out. No mage could disguise their magic signature. They could dampen it. They could hide it. But they could not change its character.
“You claim that you can use your magic despite the Wards surrounding us. There is one way of discovering if you are controlling Devereux. Allow me to examine your signature.”
He was silent for a long moment. Her heart started beating wildly. She wished she could take back the words. What would she do if she discovered he was the one? Would he have to kill her as well, if Elizabeth discovered his secret? She was completely at his mercy. She had no way out. The mirror would not obey her. Her magic was incapacitated by the Wards.
She turned to scrutinize him. He was regarding her solemnly. To her astonishment, she realized he was trying to decide whether to trust her. It had never occurred to her that he would be equally suspicious of her motivation.
“You are asking a great deal of me,” he said, heavily. “You want me to expose my magic to you. What if you connect with me and take it all?”
So he knew about Bingley and the others. Or at least he knew what the other Royal Mages suspected.
“I will not do that. I give you my word.”
“Your word may not mean much. We are enemies, and as the saying goes, all is fair in love and war.”
His gaze bit into her. She stared back at him. They were at an impasse.
“If you are not willing to reveal your magic, I will take it that you are guilty, and I cannot answer for the consequences.”
He exhaled heavily.
“I am a great admirer of yours, Mrs. Darcy, and I believe you to be honorable. Still, how do I know I am not making the biggest mistake of my life?”
“Have I given you any reason to doubt me?”
He considered her statement, then gave one of his shrugs. “D’accord. I will allow you to do it.”
Shutting his eyes, he released the spell that hid his magic. Elizabeth reached out tentatively towards the threads that became visible to her senses.
It took a mere two seconds to recognize his powerful signature.
She had encountered it before, of course. Even though his magic had been Cloaked, she could feel its taste on her tongue, along with her terror at the time. He was the fifth mage at Founder’s Hall, the one whose purpose she did not know. He was the enemy. There was no question of that.
But, whatever else he may have been, he was not the mage who had attacked Darcy in the garden.
Elizabeth let out her breath, the fight leaving her.
“Well?” he said. “Am I guilty?”
“You were right. You are not guilty of attacking Darcy in the garden,” she said, avoiding his gaze. “But you were one of the mages that attacked Founder’s Hall.”
“I have never denied that. You caught me outside Founder’s Hall. That is certainly evidence enough.”
It felt very strange to be talking to the enemy. By rights, they should be killing each other. Yet Elizabeth had never felt threatened by him. In some ways, he had been kinder to her than many of her fellow mages. She felt a kinship to him. How could that be? Was she a traitor to even regard him that way?
Those questions would have to wait for another time. She had more immediate problems now. She was left with no idea who the culprit was.
“I am sorry to have accused you.”
“Quite understandable under the circumstances, dear lady. In your position, I would have done the same.”
She turned her thoughts to Darcy’s uncle. He had betrayed her today and prevented her from helping Darcy. Could it have been him who had sent her the note? Was it his footmen who had thrown her in here the first time? Matlock had refused to listen to her, and he had imprisoned her.
Was he justified? She had interrupted the duel despite his warning – and Darcy’s— not to intervene. She had even tried to Bond with Darcy. If she had succeeded, she would have broken every rule in their rulebook. But did that give him enough of a reason to imprison her and accuse her of mutiny?
She tried to remember his magical signature. She had not suspected him, but was it possible that he was the one? Was that why the signature was familiar?
The prospect was terrifying. If he was willing to destroy his own nephew, there was no knowing what else he was capable of. The hairs on her body bristled.
As if thinking along the same lines, de Riquer broke into her thoughts. “So, Mrs. Darcy. Why did they bring you back here this time? Or did you choose to come here because you missed my company?”
“I can assure you, I did not come here of my own volition.”
“One could always hope.”
He was trying to lighten her mood. She appreciated the effort, but she could not bring herself to laugh.
His expression turned serious. “Your volition, as you call it, does not seem to count for much. They are remarkably careless about it. If it were not absurd, I would say they seem determined to bring us together.”
Whoever they were. She could no longer tell the difference between an enemy and a friend. At this moment, the only person who seemed to care what happened to her was de Riquer.
She slid down to the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees. And Darcy. He cared about her, even if he was too stubborn for his own good.
“My husband is going to die.”
She was overcome with a feeling of hopelessness.
“Your husband is not going to die, Mrs. Darcy. Do you seriously think they will stand by and allow one of England’s most powerful mages to be killed in a duel? If that is the case, then they deserve to lose the war to Napoleon.”
She wished she could take comfort in his statement. “They are too embroiled in their own petty squabbles to care about the bigger picture.”
“You have no idea how disappointing that is to me.”
“I would have thought you would be delighted. You are the enemy. Your goal is to inflict as much damage as possible. You have spied on us and discovered our weaknesses. Why would you be disappointed?”
“Because, Mrs. Darcy, I wish to switch sides. I wish to fight with you against Napoleon.”
She stared at him in disbelief, distracted from her own agitation. “But why?”
“I did not choose to join Napoleon’s mages. Quite the opposite. I joined the uprising against Napoleon after Bonaparte’s brother Joseph was appointed king instead of King Fernando VII. I commanded a group of miquelets, a resistance band that mounted attacks during the sieges of Rosas and Girona. After the siege of Girona ended, many of my fellow miquelets were captured and killed. I was given a choice. Either I worked for Napoleon, or my whole family would be put to death. I come from a noble family that goes back many generations. My uncle is a Marquis. I agreed so I could save their lives and a long family history. Since then, Joseph Bonaparte has been defeated, but the threat to my family has continued. I refuse to serve that usurper any longer.”
Elizabeth did not know what to say. She could not doubt his sincerity. His anger swirled around the room. But she had to be honest with him.
“I doubt anyone will believe you.”
“I am hoping you can convince them.”
She was set adrift. Everything was topsy-turvy. She did not know what to believe anymore. Outside, in the rose garden, Darcy might be drawing his last breath while she was talking to a French mage. By even listening to him, was she conspiring with the enemy?
“I see that I have shocked you.”
“You have. I did not anticipate anything like this. I would be staking my life – and that of many people— by trusting you.”
“Yes.”
They fell into a silence. She was too numb to see anything clearly. She wrapped her hands against her knees and gazed at the ground. All she could think of was getting out and helping Darcy.
“Please do not sit on the stone floor, Mrs. Darcy. It is – how do you say – watery? At least sit on the carpet. Or better still, sit in the armchair.”
“Damp. The word is damp.”
He extended a hand to help her up and she took it. However miserable she may be, she would be better off in an armchair than on the damp stone of the cellar.
But she could not sit in the armchair, not until she knew what had happened to Darcy. She paced back and forth, looking towards the mirror, wondering if there was something she could do.
Then she thought of something. Surely if he was wounded, they would take him to the Healer’s Hall. She would know.
“Can you show me the Healer’s Hall?”
De Riquer rose and went over to the mirror. “I cannot show you the Healer’s Hall. I have never been there. But you can direct the mirror, once I set up the spell.”
Once again, Elizabeth peered through the milky whiteness. The room appeared before her in all its details. It was still early in the morning and the maids were cleaning the fireplace and scrubbing the floor. No one was there.
If it was all over, and everyone was safe, surely they would convene to discuss the duel? She tried the breakfast room again.
“I am beginning to tire, Mrs. Darcy. I cannot hold the spell much longer.”
She moved away from the mirror as he covered it up. What could be taking so long? She did not know if it was a good sign or a bad sign that no one had returned inside. Perhaps the duel had not yet finished. It could be that Darcy was holding his own. But it might also mean that both contestants were dead, and the members of the Council were in the garden, arguing what to do next.
“I do not suppose you can tell me what this duel is about?”
She shook her head.
“Considering how badly they are treating you, I am surprised you still feel you owe them any loyalty.”
“That is exactly what I would expect you to say, Monsieur de Riquer. You will turn me against my own people.”
Though who those people were exactly was uncertain. Only Darcy was certain. He was the candle in a world of shadows. He and her sister Jane.
“It never ceases to amaze me how people only see what they choose to see. Twice I have had the opportunity to score a point for Napoleon by killing you, and twice I have refrained. How do you explain that, based on your expectations? And how do you explain that I showed you my magic, when you could have destroyed it? Please do not talk about expectations. I told you what I want. But I can see you do not believe me.”
“I need time.” She felt a flash of anger. “I have other concerns right now. I do not know what has happened to my husband. I do not know what will happen to me. Your request is not the only thing on my mind.” She picked up on what he had just said. “So you believe me capable of destroying your magic if I connect with you?”
“As it so happens, I do not. But you are a very dangerous mage, Mrs. Darcy. I do not think you are aware of the full extent of your powers yet. There are a great many things you have yet to learn, Mrs. Darcy. The Council has not made good use of your abilities, especially when it comes to your Talent of connecting.”
Ironic, that he was the only one who seemed to understand that. “Why do you say that?”
“I will answer your question, Mrs. Darcy, only on condition that you promise to convince the others that I wish to join them.”
“You are overestimating my influence.”
“Perhaps, but do I have your word?”
“You have it.”
“Then here is your answer. You did not hurt anyone by connecting with them. When you opened the rift in the Ward, you enabled one of my fellow mages to reach your friends and cast a spell on them. It was intended to entrance them temporarily. They do not know a spell that can do such long-term damage. Something must have gone wrong.”
So Jane had been right after all. Someone had cast a spell on the Warders. It meant their affliction was not caused by Elizabeth. The news would have delighted her if she was not eaten up inside with worry.
“In some ways, you were responsible for your friends’ injuries, but it was not because you were connected to them. It was because they were exposed. If you were all inside the Wards, we could not have done it..”
“We?”
He gave an apologetic smile. “It offends you, no? I cannot pretend I was not one of them. I can only insist that I would rather not continue to be one of them. Whether you will allow me the opportunity to make amends or not is up to you.”
“It is not my decision to make. I still do not understand. Why should we trust you?”
“Because I am prepared to help you undo your friends’ captivity.”