Page 148 of Sword & Sacrifice

“I have a tonic for you, if you’d like it,” Emmaline offered, searching through her mother’s bag. She'd used up quite a bit of the antidote already, but she wanted to help as many people as possible.

The lady smiled tightly. “A slight headache, my dear, nothing too concerning.”

Emmaline accepted her answer and walked around the first floor, treating the servants. Several minutes later, a piercing scream echoed through the manor, followed by a long, drawn-out sob.

She ran back toward the foyer, skidding to a stop in the doorway as she saw Lady Charlotte kneeling over a body.

Bern’s dead white eyes stared at Emmaline accusingly, the slit in his neck gaping wide open.

Lord Edgar leaned against the other wall, his hand covering his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at his son’s body. “Monster,” he hissed. When he raised his head, his eyes landed on Emmaline. Fury darkened his gaze, and he jabbed a finger at her. “You.”

“Me?” she squeaked.

“You’re part of this. You and your friends. I had Niall under control until you arrived. You must have drugged us, helped him escape.”

“We didn’t!” Emmaline insisted, shaking her head. But it was true that their arrival had been the catalyst. That Bern was only dead because Niall had to dispose of his decoy. “I-I’m only looking for my mother. She’s in danger—”

“Danger?” he scoffed. “She is the danger.”

“No!”

Turning to the constable, Lord Edgar straightened and said, “My son is dead, my servants have been poisoned, my house is in disarray, and I’ve been robbed. I demand justice.”

Constable Gordon looked between the lord who paid him and the girl who was a stranger from another country. Then he grabbed Emmaline’s arm and forced her to face the wall. “We will investigate this matter to the fullest extent,” he told Lord Edgar. “Until then, I will secure the girl in Sparrow Hill’s jail.”

“You can’t do this!” Emmaline protested, struggling as he locked manacles around her wrists. “I came to you for help! I’m the one who told you something was wrong at the estate!”

“That doesn’t absolve you of guilt. Plenty of criminals report their own crimes to try to avoid suspicion. Until I have the whole story, I can’t risk you running off and joining the other culprits.” He dragged her outside to the horses. As he passed one of the men, he whispered instructions to secure the perimeter of the estate and report any suspicious activity to him.

The constable helped her up onto his own horse, his hands surprisingly gentle. Then he grabbed Sugar’s reins and tied them to his horse’s saddle so the mare would follow them. When he climbed up behind her, he said quietly, “I’m not going to hurt you, so please cooperate.”

His words did not reassure her. In a matter of hours, she’d gone from being the captive of a mage to the prisoner of an angry lord. The latter was somewhat preferable to the former, but remaining a prisoner wouldn’t help her mother. She’d have to escape again, and this time, she was on her own.

Chapter Three

The jail in Sparrow Hill was a squat, one story building that housed the constable’s office and two cells. The scent of dirt and old wood filled the air, and dust had settled on the bench. Constable Gordon stuck Emmaline into a cell, unlocked her manacles, and left her alone.

She paced her cell, trying to think of a way to convince him to release her. Maybe his investigation will reveal the full truth. He’ll understand we’re all victims of Niall’s plotting, and he’ll help me discover what happened to Mama.

As the hours dragged on, she had less faith in the truth being unveiled. Lord Edgar was quick to accuse us. Could Alistair alter his memories to frame us? Then a dark thought extinguished her hopes: what if he found a way past Mama’s mental shields?

No, her mother’s mental shields were a solid stone wall. It would surely take Alistair longer than a day to break her.

How much longer?

Emmaline couldn’t simply sit in her cell and hope for justice. She grabbed the bars and tugged, hoping that the disuse and neglect extended as far as allowing the bars to rust. They didn’t budge at all. Maybe if I was as strong as Griselda …

Griselda wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. She would have fought against the constable instead of allowing him to arrest her. Or even before that, she would have smelled the magic around Niall or alerted them to whatever sleeping spell he’d used to capture them.

Emmaline’s arms dropped to her side, aching from her useless efforts. I can wish for Griselda’s skills all I want but it won’t change anything.

What skills did she have that could help her escape? More importantly, what tools did she have?

Constable Gordon had set both Emmaline’s and her mother’s bags on his desk, in plain view, but out of reach. Even if she could reach them, most of the items in her bag were simple medical supplies and tonics. Her mother may have stronger spells and potions, but Mama was still a healer first and foremost. She likely wouldn’t have anything that could melt the bars or pick a lock.

There must be something I can use!

Emmaline looked frantically around the jail for anything in reach. Searching under the bench, out the barred window, in every corner. Empty except for dirt and dust. The only tool she had was herself …