Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(16)
She’d stashed the paint behind the woodpile of a bakery.
A few stars gleamed overhead as Elsie approached the duke’s estate. It seemed so much larger and more ominous in the dark. It had a heavy stone wall that faced the road, but the back of it opened up onto woodland. Land only the duke and his guests could hunt on, though that was a gripe for another evening.
Elsie did not much like ambling through the woods in the dark, yet her choices were limited. She could only pray no one mistook her for a poacher.
She stepped quietly, holding her skirts in her hands. Modern fashion did not take into account a woman’s need to be stealthy amidst brambles. There was decent moonlight, but the trees and clouds played peekaboo with it, forcing Elsie to move very slowly or risk falling. Wouldn’t that be something, stranded in the Duke of Kent’s wood with a twisted ankle?
Would her tale of secret love wriggle her out of that predicament?
Fortunately, the excursion through the wood proved uneventful. The trees thinned, the ground evened, and a manicured lawn sprawled ahead. She stepped onto the hunting path leading from the back of the estate with a sigh of relief.
She made it only a few steps before her foot was sucked into the path. Not mud—it hadn’t rained the last few days. No roots or holes, either. The glimmer of a rune revealed the truth, its feeble gleam highlighting the earth that popped up around her shoe, grabbing it in an iron-like grasp. It was not unlike the one she’d disenchanted on the doorknob, but it was more complex, with several tight, interlocking loops.
More spells to keep your servants in their place? she wondered, making a half-hearted attempt to tug her leg free. Crouching, watching her surroundings, Elsie touched the spell. She didn’t recognize this one—a physical spell, but not one she’d disenchanted previously. She tugged at the knot one way, then another, before finding a loose end and unraveling the rune bit by bit. The spell flashed—she almost thought it pouted—before vanishing, and the earth holding her in place crumbled back to dust.
Elsie shook off her shoe and proceeded carefully. Runes weren’t bold things; she couldn’t merely glance down the path ahead of her to see where any copycats lay. They would reveal themselves only as she got closer. Sometimes close enough to touch, for more masterful spells. Stepping just off the path, Elsie tiptoed carefully, catching sight of another foot trap several yards ahead. She searched the shadows, waiting for movement. Listening for sound. She smelled the stables but didn’t hear horses. Seemed all was well and proper. Good.
The servants’ door loomed ahead. Elsie might have missed it had she not made the Madeira delivery two days ago; the shadows hid it well. Heart pounding in her ears, she snuck closer, closer, and pressed her back against the cool wall of the mansion. She wasn’t terribly far from the woods. Perhaps she could run back to safety without being caught. She’d been quite a climber in her youth. If anything gave chase, she could ball her skirts between her knees and hide up a tree.
Her palms sweated, and her mouth grew dry. Get it done and get out. The Cowls will know you did it this time.
The door seemed so far away. Elsie sidestepped, cursing the moonlight when it peeked between its misty curtains. She reached for the doorknob, the spell of heat licking at her fingers. It was activated; Elsie snatched her hand away as the metal singed her fingertips. How many servants in this household had blister scars from this damnable thing?
She attacked it with her nails. The unwinding came easier this time. She knew the pattern, knew which thread to loop through. It took only seconds—
A hand seized her upper arm. Elsie barely had enough sense to bite down on a scream as someone yanked her away from the door.
“So you’re the conrad breaking my spells!” a gruff baritone snapped, the speaker making no effort to be quiet.
Elsie turned into her assailant’s grip, coming face-to-face with an exceptionally large man whose hold was tighter than that of the bespelled hunting path. She reeled and twisted, desperate to free herself. Her pulse drummed war beneath her skull.
“A woman,” he growled. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
Elsie didn’t answer, only fought. Aimed a kick for his shins, clawed at his sleeve. Full panic was setting in now. She became directionless save for the desperate need to escape. Don’t answer, don’t answer! If she did, he would know her voice, and perhaps he could use it against her. She had the cover of darkness. She just had to get away—
The man jerked her forward, toward the rear of the house. “Fine. I’m sure the authorities will get answers out of you.”
Caution snapped.
“No!” she cried, dropping all her weight. Her captor stumbled as her knees hit the ground. “No, please!” Desperation wrenched the words out of her, making her hoarse. “I’ll do anything, but don’t call the police!”
The man snorted. “You should have thought of the consequences before you trespassed.” He pulled her up.
Elsie dropped again, earning a curse from the man’s lips.
She saw a faint glimmer before her dress hardened to rock around her, hindering her movement. Physical aspector.
He turned to grab her other arm. When he did, Elsie leaned her stiff body into him and, with a wrist still mobile, untied the spell of hardening near her hip.
Her dress relaxed into cloth again, and she slammed her shoe hard onto his.