Spellbreaker (Spellbreaker Duology #1) - Charlie N. Holmberg Page 0,46

the squire? What if Mr. Parker’s giving you the time you need? Wishful thinking, perhaps, but she hoped it was true.

When they crested a small hill and the first homes began to dot the greenery ahead of them, Mr. Kelsey said, “The crops haven’t been doing well. They thrive in the tenants’ individual gardens, but the farms are waterlogged and close to rot.”

“It did rain today.”

He cast her a withering look.

Elsie sighed. “Well, I can certainly take a look.”

He didn’t reply, so she simply followed him into the tiny village, averting her eyes, wishing not to be recognized. Out for a stroll, she’d say if asked. Consultant. Curious about the duke’s grounds. Eager for Mr. Kelsey’s company, is all.

Not today. The man was practically a storm all in himself. Maybe he’d also run into a past lover. What kind of woman, precisely, would interest a man like Mr. Kelsey?

“Perhaps the queen will decide it’s too dreary and hire the Physical Atheneum to clear up the sky, hmm?” Elsie offered. It wasn’t fully a jest—it had happened before. With the ability to control temperature and water vapor, powerful physical aspectors could create storms, even dismiss them. For a city as large as London, it would take . . . many working together. Elsie wasn’t sure of the exact number. But Kent would feel some of the effects.

If Mr. Kelsey replied, she didn’t hear it. They stepped between two homes, Mr. Kelsey nodding to a woman comforting an infant on her shoulder. To the right, Elsie spied a physical spell, small and faintly blue, shivering as though cold, at the center of the stone wall. It vanished just as quickly.

When they were out of earshot, she said, “I don’t suppose you want me to take the fortifying spells off the homes as well?”

He glanced at her, his green eyes such a contrast to his deeply tanned features.

She shrugged. “Make them more dependent. Easier to cow. The like.”

“I don’t know why you have it in your mind that the duke means to make enemies of his own tenants.” He sounded tired. “Those spells are new, besides.”

She paused for a moment. Only a moment, for Mr. Kelsey’s long strides easily put distance between them, and she’d rather not run after him in front of so many onlookers. Mr. Kelsey had placed the spells, then. Recently. To strengthen the houses. That could be helpful only to the people who lived here.

Perhaps it had been done in an effort to save the duke money, but it was kind regardless. Not that she’d mention it.

Elsie saw the field in question up ahead—rows and rows of young plants, perhaps corn. She’d never been a farmer, but they did indeed look waterlogged and sickly, almost more brown than green, and spots dotted the leaves like freckles. She paused at the edge of it and crouched down, touching the soil. It wasn’t any damper than the rest of the county.

“Anything?” Mr. Kelsey asked.

She stood. Glanced over her shoulder, feeling the prickling of distant stares.

“They’ll lose interest soon enough,” he assured her.

She took two handfuls of her skirt and hoisted it to the top of her boots. “May I?”

Mr. Kelsey gestured ahead.

She walked down the row, trying to avoid hurting the sad crops at her feet. A few had given up hope and lay uselessly on the dirt, stems too weak to stand.

Please let there be a spell, she thought, chewing on the edge of her tongue. I can’t fix it if there isn’t. And then these people might be denied even their cabbage.

She walked the entire row without so much as a glimpse, sound, or smell of a spell. Mr. Kelsey stood a third of the way into the field, watching her. Skipping a few rows, Elsie stepped carefully back, searching. Smelling, listening. Keeping her senses open.

Again, nothing. Perhaps the tenants would have to move the field. It wasn’t too late to plant anew . . . but preparing another piece of land this size would be a difficult task.

She passed a few more rows and traversed the farmland once again. She was a quarter of the way through when she thought she heard something—a sound like a cricket’s cry, punching the air before vanishing altogether. She stepped back. Nothing. Crouched—

There.

She gently pushed apart two plants. This time she heard it more clearly, the chirp subtle yet distinct, too wrong to be a hiding insect. A spiritual spell, then. After removing her gloves and shoving them into her collar, she