the best part about this business: You meet so many interesting people!”
The king turned purple with rage, but before he could think of a proper comeback, Eli came to an abrupt halt, causing the king to run face first into his back. A few feet ahead, Josef had stopped and was watching the trees, one hand hovering over the short sword at his hip.
They were at the edge of a small gap in the trees, not really a meadow but a rare sunny space where bushes and wildflowers had taken root. The forest around them looked just like every other bit they’d spent the last twenty minutes walking through, a mix of midsized hardwoods and thick undergrowth. The only sounds were the cries of far-off birds and the wind rustling the leaves high above them.
“What is it?” Eli whispered, creeping toward the swordsman.
Josef stayed perfectly still, with his hands on his swords. “We’re being followed.”
As soon as he said it, a monster launched itself out of the undergrowth. It moved like mist over water, gray and cold and canine, with enormous teeth, which Josef managed to dodge barely a second before they would have sunk into his leg. He landed hard on his knees beside Eli, rolling to his feet as soon as he touched the ground, his short sword flashing. Eli pulled the king and Nico close behind him, backing them into the center of the small clearing to give the swordsman room to maneuver. Josef crouched low beside them, both short swords out now, and readied himself for the creature’s next charge.
However, the charge never came. As soon as they were all bunched together, the trap sprang.
CHAPTER 11
The ground erupted at their feet, sprouting four enormous walls that grew ten feet before they could react. At first, the walls appeared to be made of dirt, but as soon as they reached their full height, the dirt shifted and became solid, slick stone, caging them in on all sides save for a tiny, open square of sky at the very top. Then, as suddenly as the walls had grown, they stopped, leaving the king and his kidnappers squashed together like fish in a square, stone barrel.
“Eli,” Josef whispered. “Please tell me this is one of your spirits.”
“No such luck,” came a voice from above. A shadow fell over them, and the captives looked up to see a red-headed woman smirking down through the opening.
“Eli Monpress,” she said, “I am Spiritualist Miranda Lyonette. You are hereby under arrest by order of the Rector Spiritualis, Etmon Banage, for the improper use of spirits, treason against the Spirit Court, and, most recently, the kidnapping of King Henrith of Mellinor. You will surrender your spirits and come quietly.”
“Now wait a minute,” Eli yelled up at her. “Treason against the Spirit Court? Don’t you have to be a member of something to commit treason against it? I don’t recall ever joining your little social club.”
The woman arched her eyebrow. “The Spirit Court preserves the balance between human and spirit. When you used your abilities to ruin the reputation of all wizards by turning to a flamboyant life of crime, you committed treason against all spirits and the humans who care for them. Does that answer your question?”
“Not really,” Eli said.
“Well, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about it later,” Miranda said, smirking. “Will you surrender the king and come quietly, or must I ask Durn here to march you all the way to the Spirit Court’s door?”
The stone prison jerked several feet to the left, knocking its occupants in a pile on the dusty ground.
“You make a strong argument, Lady Miranda,” Eli said, untangling himself from the king. “But I’m afraid there’s a slight problem.”
“Oh?” Miranda leaned forward.
“You see, we already had his royal dustiness here order his people to write a letter pledging thirty-five thousand gold toward my bounty. You know how the Council is; they never go back on something once it’s been through the system, so you must agree it would be frightfully rude of me to just go off with you and forfeit all of Mellinor’s money to the Spirit Court, especially considering the country’s general aversion to practitioners of the magical arts.”
“I fail to see how that is my concern, Mr. Monpress.” Miranda waved her hand dismissively. “Why don’t we wait and ask the Rector Spiritualis what he thinks?”
“Ah,” Eli said. “That sounds lovely. Unfortunately, I must refuse. You see, I have a pressing prior obligation to take