Page 147 of Sword & Sacrifice

“I didn’t,” Emmaline insisted. “But I can help. All I need is my bag—”

“Constable, I demand you arrest her!”

The constable looked between Emmaline and Reginald, then tried to defuse the situation. “I need to speak with Lord Edgar first.”

Reginald scowled, but in the end agreed. “Very well. I will get him now.” He turned around sharply, almost tripping over his feet.

In the hallway, a maid leaned her forehead against the wall, clutching her stomach. “Ooh, I should have taken the day off,” she muttered. “Why am I even working?” She raised her head and glanced at the doorway, realizing for the first time that they had visitors. Straightening, she picked up a feather duster and began dusting a few inches above an empty side-table. Frowning, she glanced down at it. “Where’d the vase go? It was just here.”

Crazed laughter preceded another servant stumbling out of a side room. He fell to his knees, holding his stomach, and smiled widely at Emmaline. Then his eyes rolled back in his head, and he collapsed to the floor, the smile still trapped on his face.

Emmaline rushed forward to check his pulse. His heart raced faster than a hare running from a dog. If he wasn’t treated soon, it might fail him.

“These people need medical attention,” she said. “I’m getting my supplies.”

“Wait!” Constable Gordon shouted. “We still need to speak with the lord!”

Emmaline ignored him, racing down the hall and up the stairs. In the hallways, she passed a few other servants in various states of distress. One sat slumped against a wall, legs spread wide enough for her uniform skirt to crawl up her knees. She sang softly to herself about a lamp and a girl and springtime.

Once Emmaline found the guest room she’d spent the night in, her heart dropped. Her bag was where she’d left it, but so was her mother’s. Maybe Mama escaped but couldn’t risk coming back for it. She picked it up and clutched it to her chest as tears stung her eyes. At least she would have more supplies to treat the poisoned residents of the estate.

On her walk back to the foyer, she paused every time she saw an afflicted servant and fed them a few drops of one of her mother’s antidotes, hoping to neutralize the poison. Some of them fell asleep immediately after, while others recovered their senses enough to carry themselves off to their own beds.

Emmaline stopped one and asked, “Do you know what happened here?”

The maid clutched her head. “I remember Cook offering us a bottle of wine. Said she opened it for dinner, but the lord didn’t like the taste. Must’ve gone bad and that’s why he didn’t like it.”

“Anything else after that?”

The maid blinked a few times, each time her eyes staying closed longer. “I was … so happy. Drunk, more like. It would have been so lovely if it weren’t for the god’s awful hangover.” Grimacing, she said, “Please don’t tell the lord. We’ll all be fired.”

Emmaline let her leave and returned to the foyer to find the lord and lady of the house speaking with the constable.

“Not sure what happened here,” Lord Edgar said, rubbing his own head. “Something in the wine, I suspect.” Looking up, he spotted Emmaline. His brow furrowed, then eased with recognition. “Ah, our guest from last night. I apologize for our rough state and hope you’ve had a better night than us.”

She didn’t know how to answer that question, so she simply stated, “Niall Payton poisoned you and your staff, sir.”

Lord Edgar frowned, then shook his head. “No, no, you’re mistaken. Niall is locked up in the cellar.” Glancing around at the burly men in his foyer, his cheer returned. “In fact, you all can take custody of him.”

Constable Gordon’s shoulders slumped in relief. “Glad to hear you’ve already caught the man we’re after, Your Lordship. I expect nothing less from a man of your caliber.”

“He isn’t in the cellar,” Emmaline insisted. “He escaped. Or … he was never tied up in the first place. He disguised himself with a glamour.”

Lord Edgar laughed good-naturedly at her insistence. “No, no, I assure you, young lady, everything is well. That mage chap with you—what was his name?”

“Valerian,” his wife answered.

“Yes, yes, him. He confirmed Niall’s identity himself.”

The constable’s lips pressed into a thin line and he glanced at Emmaline. She couldn’t tell if he doubted her story, or if he thought this was part of Valerian’s betrayal. “If you could show us to the cellar, we’ll take the fugitive off your hands.”

“Gladly,” Lord Edgar said, leading the way. “I uh, will still receive credit for his capture though?”

“Of course, my lord.” Constable Gordon turned to Emmaline and said, “Perhaps you should stay here.”

Since she had no desire to see the cellar again, she readily agreed. A few of the men joined the constable and the lord, while the others remained behind in the foyer.

Lady Charlotte also remained behind, delicately rubbing her temples.