Then a woman gave a rapid command in French, and the footsteps began to move away. Elizabeth held still, worried that it was a trick, but the sense of danger began to ease.
She nodded at Darcy to indicate that they were safe, then shifted to relieve her cramped muscles. Darcy cautiously extended his head to check on the soldiers.
He squatted back down. “They are moving away. They might not have intended to attack our carriage. It seems they are heading to Founder’s Hall.”
So her instincts had been right, but her conclusions wrong.
“Then we need to reach the Hall as soon as possible so we can join in the fight. Do you know of a way we can get there ahead of them?”
Darcy’s mouth was set in a grim line. “If we move quickly, we can approach the Hall from the South and come to it from the rear. There is a hidden underground passage we can use. I know the spell to unlock it.”
There was only one problem with this plan. She could walk in her skirts, but she could not run. She would not be able to get there quickly enough.
She stood up and shook the yellow leaves from her clothes.
“You have to go ahead of me then, Darcy. I cannot move fast in my petticoats. I will catch up with you.”
Darcy shook his head adamantly. “I will not abandon you.”
“You are not abandoning me. You are needed at the Hall.”
“We could attack them from here. We could set up a Bond. We could take them by surprise.”
He was clutching at straws. They both knew it. They had tried to Bond many times and failed. There was a reason for their failure, but they could not be certain it would work even now.
“We have no idea how long it will take to set up the Bond. We have never tried it.”
“We Bonded at Longbourn.”
“That doesn’t count.”
“If the Bond fails, or takes too long, they will converge on us. We cannot protect the Hall if we are dead.”
His shoulders sagged in acceptance.
She gave him a push. “I will find my way to the Hall. I will be a few minutes behind you. Once you are inside, I will try to connect with you and Bingley and the others. That will be simpler and easier.”
She had no idea if that was even possible at a distance, but she would find a way, somehow.
She could read the uncertainty in his eyes.
“Youmustgo now, Darcy. Please!”
He caught her hand fleetingly. Then he was gone, darting through the woods, his hessian boots crunching their way through the leaves. She winced at the sound. They had never been taught to move quietly. It should be part of their training. If they survived, she would suggest it to the Council.
She hated the women’s clothing that prevented her from going with him. If she was wearing a mage’s uniform, it would have been easier, with its split skirt and practical tailoring.
Then all the terrible things that could happen to him filed through her mind. He was unprotected outside the Wards. He could be waylaid by the French mages. Anything and everything could go wrong.
She almost called him back.
Instead, she hitched up her skirts and hurried after him. Despite her efforts, the distance between them widened until she could no longer see him through the trees. There was no footpath, and the twigs and branches seemed to be reaching out with jagged fingers, tangling in her clothes and holding her back.
When she finally reached the end of the line of trees, she stopped. She would have to cross an open space. There was nowhere to hide here. Should she go forward and hope to reach the Hall before the attack? Or should she stay here and try to connect with Darcy and the others.
The decision was made for her. On the other side of the trees, near the front of the hall, a number of unfamiliar magic signatures suddenly appeared, flaring up like flames to her magic senses. The Imperial mages had thrown off their Cloaking spells. She could now sense the unfamiliar magic signatures. Napoleon’s Elemental mages. They did not need to hide any more. They were preparing to attack.
She counted five of them, but only four were working together. The fifth one was somewhere in the direction Darcy was going. His signature was almost completely Cloaked. Her stomach clenched with fear. What if the mage was going after Darcy?
