Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology, #1)(22)

The door swung open fast enough to create its own wind. A large man filled its frame. “You’re late.”

Elsie gawked a moment. It was one thing to have an altercation with a shadow. It was another to see the shadow in bright morning sunlight.

He was over six feet tall, broad and well dressed. His skin was deeply tanned, a light sepia, and a dark half beard encircled his mouth. His wavy walnut hair was worn long and pulled up at the back of his head in a folded tail. A few pieces of the dark mass were sun bleached, as though the overall color could not decide if it wanted to be dark or light.

His eyes were a rather remarkable shade of green.

Elsie caught herself quickly and squared her shoulders. “I am an educated woman, monsieur. I have certain morning grooming rituals that cannot be overlooked, especially if I’m to appear at the home of a duke.” If she didn’t stand her ground, the spellmaker would walk all over her.

She thought she caught Mr. Kelsey rolling his eyes, but he stepped out of the door frame, forcing Elsie to step back. He shut the door behind him. Elsie glanced longingly at the glimmering spell she’d disenchanted twice already.

Surely the Cowls knew she’d tried.

Mr. Kelsey strode toward the back of the estate without word. Elsie followed him, nearly having to jog to keep up with his stride.

“There are some slapdash spells on the estate I’d like voided.” Mr. Kelsey looked straight ahead. “Previous hires of the duchess. Some are old, some are a smattering of intermediate spells that would be better replaced by a single advanced one.” He glanced toward her, studying her for the space of a breath. “I take it you are untrained.”

“I am more than capable of breaking slapdashery, Mr. Kelsey. I trust that you have kept your end of the bargain?”

He nodded, and a trickle of relief cooled Elsie’s vitals. “The family is away, and most of the staff has been given the day off. The rest know better than to snoop. And if any of them do, they’ll assume I hired you from a reputable source.”

Elsie frowned. At least he’d ensured her safety.

He led her to the east side of the estate, to the large stone wall that surrounded the main grounds. The wall was speckled with fortification spells—one every twenty feet!—and Elsie unraveled them one by one. She got rather quick at it, and Mr. Kelsey followed behind her, replacing the spells with spells of his own—knots larger and more intricate than those falling to pieces under Elsie’s hands. Brighter, too. He didn’t say any magical words—aspectors didn’t need to, once they had absorbed a spell. The words became part of them, part of their opus. He simply put his hands on the wall and placed his runes. Runes only a spellbreaker would be able to see. And see them she did, each neat and shiny and symmetrical, though they vanished from sight the farther she moved from them. At most, she could spy three at a time, if she focused, and only because she knew where to look.

He’d said advanced spells, which suggested he was an advanced physical aspector, not yet a master. He looked a few years shy of thirty. He must have been raised to the magic, but he wasn’t a nobleman. Not a local one, anyway. Perhaps he’d gotten a sponsorship, but gauging by the way he dressed, his sponsor would have to be very generous. A foreign landowner, most likely. She doubted he was a merchant, what with his gloomy demeanor.

By the time she got to the front gate, her wrists began to itch fiercely. Scratching did little to abate the discomfort, and Elsie paused and pulled up her sleeves, expecting to see an ugly rash. But her skin was unblemished, minus the pinkness caused by her own fingernails.

“Have you done work like this before?” Mr. Kelsey asked, sounding disinterested.

“I’ve disenchanted walls, yes.” She sounded offended.

But the man shook his head. “I mean the repetition.”

Elsie eyed him.

He gestured to her wrists. “Overextending of magic takes a toll. Itching, soreness, fatigue . . . it varies from aspector to aspector.”

Elsie tugged down her sleeve. “I’m aware.”

She was not.

She worked for another half hour—trying hard not to scratch—before a servant appeared with a small basket of food. Mr. Kelsey accepted with a nod, and the man retreated back to the house.

He offered her a wrapped sandwich.

Elsie hesitated.

Mr. Kelsey sighed. “I’ll not starve you. There’s more than enough to go around in this place.”

If only to give her fiery wrists a break, Elsie accepted the food. “Thank you.”

Mr. Kelsey grunted an acknowledgment and unwrapped his own quick meal. They were on the green without any immediate shade, and the closest bench was a short walk away, so Elsie ate her food where she stood.

“You don’t live here,” she stated, “normally, I mean.”

She’d addressed him informally, and the look he gave her said he’d noticed. “Given the nature of our relationship,” she added, “I hardly think it necessary to address you ‘properly.’ And if you’re only an advanced aspector, you do not have a title, and therefore you are not my better.”

His lip actually quirked at that. “Perhaps, but I am legal, and you are not.”

Elsie blanched.

He went on. “I’m staying with the duke’s family while I earn my mastership. My father was a friend of the family.”