Chapter 17
Elizabeth opened hereyes to find herself enveloped in darkness. Her mind was convinced that her eyes were open, but there was nothing for her to see. No shadows. No light. Nothing to break the dark wall surrounding her. She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again, hoping for something to change, but to no avail. The inky emptiness was unwavering. She did not have the slightest inkling where she was.
She sucked in a deep breath, telling herself not to panic. There was a simple explanation. She was temporarily blinded. It was not exactly reassuring, but it kept back her terror. Fortunately, she still had the use of her other senses to determine where she was. She closed her eyes. Not that it mattered, she could not see anyway, but it helped her shift to her other senses.
She was lying on a hard cold surface, not her bed, so it was unlikely that she was experiencing some strange nightmare. She became aware of aches and bruises, but she did not know why she was feeling them. She shifted position and reached out with her hands. Her fingers found a rough, uneven surface. She was on a stone floor. She brought her fingers to her nose and was met with the odor of damp and dust.
Now that she knew she was in a cellar, she recognized the smell of oak barrels, ale and old bottles. Then the bitter taste of herbs mixed with cloves and cinnamon stirred her memories. Laudenum. They had drugged her, to stop her from using her magic. Then they must have cast a spell on her to prevent her from seeing where they had hidden her. If so, perhaps she was still in Netherfield, but it could be any cellar, anywhere. She would have to rely on her magic to discover her location.
She sent out threads of magic to search for traces around her, any clue that would tell her where she was. Her magic was dampened, but she was certain of one thing. She was not alone. She could sense smothered hints of magic around her, just at the edge of her grasp.
A rustle of clothing reached her. There was someone else here.
“Darcy?” It was the first name she thought of, but she quickly wished she had not named him. What if they did not know who she was? She had given the game away before they had even started.
A blue light flared up suddenly.
She knew one thing now at least. She was not blind. The light hurt her eyes and brought on a headache. Then a face swam in front of her. It was the stuff of nightmares. It was the French mage. She was in the cellar, locked in with the enemy.
Her body began to shake. They had Warded the room against de Riquer’s magic, but he did not need magic to kill her in here.
He could kill her with his bare hands.
***
ELIZABETH STUMBLEDto the furthest corner of the dank room. It would gain her a few minutes at most, but those few minutes might give her a chance.
There was no way out of the cell – it was both physically and magically impossible to escape. She had heard it discussed enough to know that was unquestionably true.
She could scream, and hope someone would hear her and come to rescue her, but it was hardly likely.
She tried magic. A simple Ward to protect herself. It never had a chance to form.
She squeezed herself against the wall. “Do not come any closer!Ne m’approchez pas!”
It was laughably inadequate. She did not know much French. No doubt she sounded ridiculous, like a child speaking in broken sentences. Even if she did not, a powerful French mage was hardly going to be put off by her paltry words.
“You need not worry.”
