Page 144 of Sword & Sacrifice

She cried out and grabbed her head as she collapsed to her knees. Get out! she shouted through her mind, over and over again, lacing the words with thorns. As easily as the hole had opened, it swiftly closed. Thorny canes twisted over each other, their sharp points burrowing into the invasive presence.

“Emmaline, run,” her mother ordered. Thunder boomed, drowning out anything else she said.

Emmaline wanted to argue, to stay with her mother until the end, but she understood the real meaning of Alistair’s threat: if she stayed behind, she would only be used to hurt her mother and further Alistair’s goals. She was a distraction, a hostage, a liability.

And if Alistair attacked her mind a second time, she wasn’t strong enough to force him back out.

Emmaline pushed herself to her feet and ran. Rainbow lightning flashed in the sky and thunder drowned out the world around her. The ground was soft and muddy, making her slip and slide through it. She fell twice, catching herself on her hands and knees, and shoved herself back up each time.

She didn’t know how long it took her to reach Sparrow Hill, where their horses were stabled at the inn. The storm was further away from town, so the clouds were thinner here, exposing the first hints of dawn. She pushed through the inn’s door and collapsed in the front room.

Shocked exclamations rose around her, but they seemed faded and far away. The tears she’d held back all night finally slipped down her cheeks, further proof of her weakness.

Mama … Penn … I couldn’t save them. I couldn’t even help them. I wasn’t strong enough to keep Alistair out of my head.

People gathered around Emmaline, making a fuss, like she was a lost child in need of help. She wanted to push them away, to scream her sorrows at them. In the end, she bit her tongue and allowed them to help her up.

Only one person deserved her newfound rage.

Chapter Two

The heavy wool blanket someone had wrapped around Emmaline’s shoulders was already damp and chilled from her soiled clothes. The inn’s other guests hadn’t yet risen for the day, so only the workers joined her in the dining room.

Emmaline didn’t know what to do next. I wish Mama was here, or Penn, Archer, Griselda. Anyone. Her wish fizzled out like an ember in the rain. Archer and Griselda were still in Litus with Silas. Even if Emmaline could send them a magical message, even if they left within the hour, they were still a week’s journey away. Emmaline needed help now, from whoever could offer it.

She raised her head, eyes locking on the innkeeper who hovered nearby, concerned about his guest’s safety. “I need to speak with a constable, or any soldiers stationed in this town.” A few soldiers might not be enough to defeat Alistair, but they might distract him. Give her mother and Penn time to escape or fight back.

The innkeeper nodded and sent one of the workers to fetch someone.

Several minutes passed in awkward silence. A waitress with a sympathetic smile refilled Emmaline’s teacup and murmured words of assurance. Instead of drinking the tea, Emmaline clasped the cup in her hands, leaching the warmth from it.

The front door to the inn burst open and a man marched inside, pulling on a uniform coat as he walked. “Too damned early for this,” he grumbled, running a hand down his face. He looked around the inn’s dining room, then his eyes settled on Emmaline. “I’m Constable Gordon. You the one who needed to speak with me?”

“Yes,” Emmaline whispered. “I need to report a serious crime.”

“All right, all right, let’s see.” He grabbed a chair and pulled it over to her table, thumping down into it. Then he rifled around in his coat pocket and sighed in exasperation. “Milton, have you got a quill and paper? Left mine in the office.”

The innkeeper hurried to the front counter to fetch the requested supplies.

Constable Gordon licked the end of the quill and asked, “What is your name?”

“Emmaline Orestes,” she said.

The constable’s brow furrowed as if he recognized the name but didn’t know why. This close to the Arnsveldian border, he would have heard of the healer Adelaide Orestes, but most people used her title rather than her surname. “What seems to be the problem, Emmaline?”

She took a deep breath and launched into the story as best she could, “Four of us went to Causley Estate to deliver a message from Si—His Majesty King Silas.”

Arching an eyebrow, Constable Gordon leaned back against his chair. “Does this have anything to do with the announcement going around the kingdom?”

“Yes!” Emmaline sat up straighter. “We went to speak with Lord Edgar Slater about his umm … cousin? Uncle? I don’t remember, but he is related to Niall Payton.”

“Is he now?” The second eyebrow joined the first. “Didn’t know that.”

“He is, and he’d seen Niall and told us he’d already apprehended him and put him in his cellar, except it wasn’t really Niall, it was someone else glamoured to look like him. So Niall caught us all by surprise and he captured us and tied us up in the cellar and—”

Constable Gordon held up his hand. “Slow down.” He wrote a few notes, then summarized, “You were tied up in the cellar. And then?”

“And then—” she hesitated. How could she explain that Alistair Lindstrum had taken over Valerian’s mind? Even seasoned mages would question the story if they hadn’t witnessed it themselves. “One of our companions betrayed us.” The lie tasted acrid on her tongue. I’m sorry, Valerian. “Niall knew we were coming and was prepared for our arrival.”