The mage answered in perfectly adequate English. He sounded amused. “If I had wanted to harm you, I would have done so while you were asleep. I did not need to wait for you to wake up so I could kill you.”
The hammering in her pulse slowed down and some of the terror receded. At least he knew English, and he seemed open to talking.
“Since no one is here to perform the introductions, allow me to introduce myself. I am Ramon de Riquer,of Casa Dávalos, Barcelona, at your service.”
“I thought Napoleon has done away with titles.”
“I have a proud heritage. Bonaparte cannot do away with it at his whim.”
“But you are fighting for him.”
He shrugged. “True. Sometimes circumstances dictate one’s fate.”
It did not sound as if he was overwhelmingly in favor of his commander.
“You have not yet introduced yourself, madam, though there is in fact no need to do so. I remember the circumstances of my capture. You were kind enough to handle my legs.”
She flushed. He had been half conscious. She did not think he would remember. All the more reason for him to wish her dead. But she would keep him talking. The more time she could gain, the better the chance of her finding a way out of this mess.
“Very well, then. I am Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy.”
It seemed ridiculous to be introducing herself to the man who was going to kill her.
“Enchanté, madame.”
To her absolute astonishment, he smiled, took up her hand, and bowed over it.
“So, Mrs. Elizabeth Darcy. Tell me what you have done for them to throw you into the cellar with me? Those men were not precisely gentle. They threw you in like a sack of potatoes.”
“Did you see who they were?” If she could at least know who had done this to her, she could work out why.
The French mage shook his head. “I did not.”
She raised her brow disbelievingly. “If you are hoping to gain something by bartering for information—”
He smiled. “Now, why did I not think of that? They did not exactly shine a candle in their faces to reveal who they were. It was dark, and I did not see them.”
She still did not believe him. “It is not dark now.”
“Do you think I would risk letting them know that I am able to do magic in the cellar?”
His words impacted her like a blow. He could do magic despite the Wards and the Damping?
Of course. The blue light. Yet she could not feel her magic. How was that?
“Why are you not concealing it from me, in that case?”
He shrugged in a heavily Gallic manner. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
The idea that she could be friends with an Imperial mage was laughable. Her mind flashed back to the horrible roiling fog that had attacked them at Founder’s Hall and Mr. Caldwell’s bulging red eyes. She thought of Redmond, screaming, of Darcy, lost in illusions, of the huge fireball hovering over the hall.
“You are very much mistaken if you think I could be your friend.”
“I cannot say I blame you. I would say the same if I was in your position.”
Now that some of the grogginess from the laudanum was wearing off, her mind fully registered that he was speaking in fluent English. It was heavily accented, with a strange lilt to it, but it was fluent.
“How is it that you speak English so well?”
