“This is not a game, Devereux.” At that moment, Darcy hated Devereux with every bone in his body. How dare he treat his wife’s predicament as a spectacle.
“I never thought it was.”
“You are all taking a foolish gamble. If our captive is using Mrs. Darcy as bait, you may all be killed.” Matlock through his hands in the air. “But it is obvious I cannot hold you back.”
***
DARCY CHECKED THE WARDSon all five Council members, forcing himself to be methodical. Their lives might depend on it. He was quivering with impatience. The moment of truth was upon them, and he had no idea what he would find behind that door.
Darcy checked the Healer’s Wards last. “Hold back unless we call you. No sense in being injured for no reason.”
“I will bear witness,” she said. Her voice was cold.
If she wished to expose herself to danger, then so be it. It was a matter of indifference to him.
He listened as Sudbury slipped the key into the lock.
There were no voices inside. The silence was ominous. It filled him with foreboding. What happened to Elizabeth?
The key turned. Sudbury drew the bolt, and the heavy iron door swung open.
Ramon de Riquer was sitting quietly on his bed, a book in his hand. A fire burned warmly in the fireplace, and the Imperial mage was drinking wine from a bottle. He came to his feet slowly and put the bottle down as the mages appeared.
Darcy held back, standing in the doorway, seeking Elizabeth in the small room, his heart full of dread. A cursory look did not reveal Elizabeth. He could sense traces of her magic, but she was not in the room. Unless the worst had happened.
Grayson stood at full alert, his eyes fixed on the prisoner, ready to react at the slightest threat. Devereux stalked into the room and pushed de Riquer back onto the bed. Wine spilled onto his shirt, forming a red patch like blood. There were not many places Devereux could search, but he flung open the wardrobe, looked behind the screen and under the bed.
“Where is Mrs. Darcy?” he said, belligerently.
“It is no use asking,” remarked Grayson, not changing his stance. “He does not understand you. And he does not know who Mrs. Darcy is.”
“He understands French.” Devereux repeated the question in French.
In response, the mage spread his hands in a gesture of confusion.
“You did not really expect him to have an answer, did you?”
“There could be a Concealment spell. We will have to search physically.” Lord Sudbury now entered, duplicating Devereux’s search, only much more meticulously. He covered every inch of the room, feeling the wall and the floor with his hands.
“Concealment spells would not work in here. The magic has been dampened.” Lord Grayson still kept his eye on the prisoner.
There was no sign of her in the room. None at all.
“Lady Ashcombe, you are here to bear witness.” Lord Grayson sounded grave and official. “Would you care to examine the room to ascertain that Mrs. Darcy is not here?”
Lady Ashcombe repeated the process, but more rapidly.
“Well? What is your verdict?”
“Mrs. Darcy is not in the room.”
Darcy’s spirits soared. He wanted to roar with triumph. They had wanted to accuse her of treason! Elizabeth was not even there. Their petty little attempt had failed utterly.
“Let us leave, then. The longest we stay here, the more of a temptation we are posing for the prisoner to attack.”
Lord Grayson locked the door, and the five mages made their way back up the stairs where the other members of the Council were waiting.
“Where is Mrs. Darcy?” Matlock looked down the stairs as if expecting her to appear.
