and proper. Good.
The servants’ door loomed ahead. Elsie might have missed it had she not made the Madeira delivery two days ago; the shadows hid it well. Heart pounding in her ears, she snuck closer, closer, and pressed her back against the cool wall of the mansion. She wasn’t terribly far from the woods. Perhaps she could run back to safety without being caught. She’d been quite a climber in her youth. If anything gave chase, she could ball her skirts between her knees and hide up a tree.
Her palms sweated, and her mouth grew dry. Get it done and get out. The Cowls will know you did it this time.
The door seemed so far away. Elsie sidestepped, cursing the moonlight when it peeked between its misty curtains. She reached for the doorknob, the spell of heat licking at her fingers. It was activated; Elsie snatched her hand away as the metal singed her fingertips. How many servants in this household had blister scars from this damnable thing?
She attacked it with her nails. The unwinding came easier this time. She knew the pattern, knew which thread to loop through. It took only seconds—
A hand seized her upper arm. Elsie barely had enough sense to bite down on a scream as someone yanked her away from the door.
“So you’re the conrad breaking my spells!” a gruff baritone snapped, the speaker making no effort to be quiet.
Elsie turned into her assailant’s grip, coming face-to-face with an exceptionally large man whose hold was tighter than that of the bespelled hunting path. She reeled and twisted, desperate to free herself. Her pulse drummed war beneath her skull.
“A woman,” he growled. “Who are you? What’s your name?”
Elsie didn’t answer, only fought. Aimed a kick for his shins, clawed at his sleeve. Full panic was setting in now. She became directionless save for the desperate need to escape. Don’t answer, don’t answer! If she did, he would know her voice, and perhaps he could use it against her. She had the cover of darkness. She just had to get away—
The man jerked her forward, toward the rear of the house. “Fine. I’m sure the authorities will get answers out of you.”
Caution snapped.
“No!” she cried, dropping all her weight. Her captor stumbled as her knees hit the ground. “No, please!” Desperation wrenched the words out of her, making her hoarse. “I’ll do anything, but don’t call the police!”
The man snorted. “You should have thought of the consequences before you trespassed.” He pulled her up.
Elsie dropped again, earning a curse from the man’s lips.
She saw a faint glimmer before her dress hardened to rock around her, hindering her movement. Physical aspector.
He turned to grab her other arm. When he did, Elsie leaned her stiff body into him and, with a wrist still mobile, untied the spell of hardening near her hip.
Her dress relaxed into cloth again, and she slammed her shoe hard onto his.
It didn’t have the effect she wanted—it didn’t hurt the blasted man, only surprised him. She made it all of two steps before his enormous hands grabbed her arms again. And Elsie could disenchant only physical spells, not physical strength.
“You talk of morals to me, yet you forbid your staff from leaving the house!” She pushed off the ground, trying to throw him off balance.
He took a half step back before hauling her upright. “That spell is a security measure. Against thieves like you.” He dragged her toward the back entrance.
“I am not a thief!” She tried to turn one way, then the other. Attempted to gouge his eyes. But his strength easily surmounted hers. Fight with magic and make this fair, you towering oaf!
“Who sent you?” he barked.
“No one did! Please, have mercy!”
He merely grunted. The door was in sight. Surely someone would hear them any moment, and her chance of escaping would become that much slimmer. It would take only one more man to apprehend her, and then—
“I’m not registered!” she hissed.
He paused only a moment. Surely he knew the penalty for working any sort of magic without registration was grave. It made the thieving accusation sound like afternoon tea.
“Please,” she pressed. “I’m not a criminal. I wanted to help the servants.” Pieces of loose hair fell into her face.
Another growl sounded low in the man’s throat. “Who hired you?”
Elsie pinched her lips shut.
His grip tightened. “Who. Hired. You.”
“I couldn’t tell you if I wanted to,” she muttered. Would the Cowls free her if she went to jail? But if her spellbreaking abilities