There was a long silence as everyone tried to absorb the implications.
"Do they have a sense of when the attack is happening?" asked Miss King.
When, thought Darcy, notif. His heart sank.
"It is still unclear,” said Matlock, folding the letter. “Napoleon would not send resources to the coast if he did not intend to attack, but we still have no idea how fast he will move. We may have to wait for weeks to determine his purpose. For now, we just have to wait. But we need to be prepared to move at any moment. It will give us more time to send for more mages if needed."
He looked at Elizabeth. "We are all counting on Riquer to give us better information."
“I have heard nothing yet.” Her face was strained.
It was too much of a burden to put on one person. Darcy gritted his teeth. If only he was the one with the Mirror Talent! All the feelings of dissatisfaction and unease resurfaced. This time, he knew it was not jealousy. It was a feeling of profound resentment. Why did the whole of the Kingdom have to rely on Riquer for information? Not for the first time, Darcy rued the day that he had captured Riquer outside Founder’s Hall.
Riquer had better not be lying, he thought. Not that there was much he could do about it.
“What now?” said Mr. Bennet.
“We could be asked to leave at any time. Please be prepared.”
Now that the celebratory mood was gone, only the Healers were still interested in playing cards, and before long, most of the Royal Mages had taken their leave and gone to bed.
The next morning, Elizabeth went outside with a renewed sense of purpose. It was so much more pleasant waiting for Riquerin the morning. At least she could bring a book and read if she wanted, or wander around the garden and smell the roses. She did not have to worry about tripping or falling on uneven ground, either.
If only Darcy would join her! They had, unfortunately, decided it was for the best if he didn’t. Darcy’s antagonism towards Riquer made both of them uncomfortable, and she did not want the discomfort to have an impact on her magic.
In any case, it was a nice change to be alone with her thoughts, which did not happen often. It was, in fact, a lovely morning. The sky was stretched out in clear blue all the way to the horizon, and the sun was like a warm mantle on her head and shoulders. And the good thing was, Elizabeth did not have to worry about Jane. Even though she was asleep when Elizabeth went to see her, the Healer who was with her assured Elizabeth that her sister was on the mend.
Once she heard from Riquer, she would feel more at ease. Lord Grayson’s message had cast a pall on everyone last night, but she was determined to make the best of the time she had left. But until she received something – anything – from Riquer, she was too beset with uncertainties.
Lord Matlock’s reminder last night that everything depended on Riquer had shaken her, because it was not exactly true. Everything depended on both Elizabeth and Riquer, possibly more on her, because of the two, she was the one with the weaker magic. What if Riquerhadtried to contact her, but she was incapable of matching his magic. She took up the mirror and stared into it. She was tired of seeing her own image. What if that was all she would ever see?
As if in answer to the question, her image dissolved, and the mirror turned milky, followed by the familiar swooshing sound. Her hands trembling, she uttered a spell and prepared herself to direct her magic. Slowly, another image formed. It was Riquer.
She could barely see him through the mist, and his voice was muffled, but it was undoubtedly him. Not only was he alive, but he was not a traitor. She was giddy with relief, then triumphant. He had contacted her! And he was safe! And she was able to receive his message!
Except that she could not hear what he was saying. His mouth was moving, but only garbled words came out.
She calmed herself and followed the steps Riquer had taught her to receive an image through the mirror.
"Could you repeat what you're saying?"
His words became slightly clearer "— cannot talk — being watched — across from Boulogne — weather – wind mages —" Riquer was saying.
She tried to amplify his voice, using all the techniques he had taught her, but his voice kept fading in and out.
"I cannot hear you properly," she said urgently.
But the mist was swirling, his voice growing fainter. She desperately focused all her energy on magnifying the mirror magic, but his voice only grew more distant.
" —immediately — not delay." Despite all her efforts, the swirling fog was obscuring him.
Then, abruptly, there was only her own face in the mirror, with the blue sky reflecting from behind her.
She sat down with a thump, her mind trying to disentangle what had just happened, her knees weak. But only for a moment. She jumped up in a panic. She had to tell Lord Matlock at once before she forgot something.
She ran inside and addressed the first footman she saw. “Take me to Lord Matlock,” she said. “At once!”
She could not delay for a single second.
