Page 146 of Sword & Sacrifice

Constable Gordon raised a hand to his hair, paused before he accidentally mussed it, and dropped it again to his side. “All right, you can accompany us as long as you follow these rules: you will not engage with the lord or any of his servants unless I invite you to speak. You will remain on the drive unless the lord permits you entrance into the estate. If the situation becomes violent, you will return to the inn and wait here until someone deems it safe. Do you agree?”

She nodded vigorously. “Yes, of course.”

“Do you have your own horse?”

“Yes, her name is Sugar and—”

He held up a hand to cut her off. “I don’t really care what her name is, as long as she’s fit to ride. Get her saddled, quickly. We leave at the top of the hour. If you aren’t ready by then, I’m leaving without you.” He strode out of the room to see to the final details.

Emmaline hurried to the inn’s stable to prepare Sugar. When she passed Spice’s stall, she paused. Spice poked her nose out of the opening and nickered at Emmaline, almost as if she were asking: Where’s my rider?

“Mama will be back soon,” Emmaline promised, stroking the horse’s nose.

She moved on to Sugar’s stall, saddling her with the ease and efficiency of years of practice. As soon as Sugar was ready, Emmaline braced herself and hopped straight into the saddle without waiting for assistance. She guided Sugar outside just in time to see a group of riders leaving.

Oh no, I must have taken longer than I thought! She urged Sugar forward, kicking up mud from the road as they raced to catch up.

Constable Gordon was at the front of the group. Wanting to apologize, she passed the other riders and only slowed down when she reached his side. “I’m here,” she panted.

He glanced at her, then did a double take, eyes widening. “So you are.”

The storm had subsided, but the clouds lingered, and the air was still wet and heavy with potential. Although Emmaline was happy not to be riding in the rain, she wondered what it meant for her mother. Did she escape? Did they subdue her? Is she too tired to fuel a storm?

Emmaline scanned the road for any signs of her mother, craning her neck as she looked behind trees and tried to identify the figures in the distance. Every hint of movement drew her eye, only to disappoint her when it was a bird or a farmhand.

When they approached the massive manor house, Constable Gordon held up his hand and ordered Emmaline, “Stay here.” He waited until Emmaline nodded, then dismounted and left his horse with one of the other men as he approached the door. A few men joined him as backup, but most hung back, keeping an eye on their surroundings.

Emmaline’s heart raced as she watched, hoping she hadn’t doomed the man. Would Alistair and Niall attack as soon as they saw his uniform? Or would they try to fool the constable, lie their way out of trouble? She hoped Constable Gordon could defend himself and see through any deception.

No one answered the door. Frowning, he glanced back at Emmaline, then banged harder. “This is Constable Gordon. I urgently need to speak with Lord Edgar Slater.”

Nothing.

He waved to the nearby men who unsheathed their swords. Their stances and how they held their weapons indicated experience and training. From their graying hair, Emmaline guessed they were retired soldiers.

Constable Gordon adjusted his stance, ready to ram the door in. Before he moved, the door opened, and the servant from yesterday leaned against the doorframe.

Even from a distance, Emmaline saw the exhaustion and pain clinging to Reginald. He could barely hold himself up, his head drooping, and there was a pallid cast to his skin.

Did Niall poison the staff? That might explain why no one interfered in the fight. It happened during the early hours of the morning, but it was loud enough that they should have disturbed anyone sleeping in the estate.

“Lord Edgar,” Reginald began, then paused, sealing his lips shut as his cheeks expanded. He visibly swallowed and started again. “Lord Edgar is indisposed at the moment.”

“Are you all right, sir?” the constable asked. He glanced back at Emmaline before offering, “I have a medic with me if you or someone in the household is ill.”

“Perfectly all right,” Reginald replied. “Just a bit—” Black vomit spewed from his mouth mid-sentence, splattering onto the doorstep. Constable Gordon and the other men danced away from the puddle of bile, grimacing down at their stained shoes.

Reginald swayed for a moment, then straightened and wiped his mouth. “My deepest apologies, sir. To be honest, the household is dealing with a bit of trouble from last night’s supper.”

Emmaline remembered her own experience with this illness after Niall poisoned one of the dinners at Veritim Palace. It hadn’t been enough to kill anyone, but she’d been weak and sick for hours, even after taking medicine.

Forgetting her agreement with the constable, she dismounted Sugar and ran up to the door. “They’ve been poisoned.”

Reginald shook his head, then frowned at her. “You.”

“Do you recognize this young woman?” Constable Gordon asked.

“Yes, she came here yesterday with … with …” he trailed off, his gaze growing fogged. When his eyes focused again, he shoved an accusing finger at Emmaline. “You are the one who did this!”