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“No!”he bellowed as he shot out a kinetic blast at the fool, sending him barreling into a second officer. “Unhand me!”
He whipped around to strike another officer, only to hit an invisible shield. A wardship spell. His pulse throbbed in his head.King’s League.They had King’s League men here.
But... how did they know? How could they possibly haveknown?
Silas dropped the donors and retreated from the wall, shooting off a blast of fire, forcing the officers to give him a wide berth. There was no other exit than the stairs. How would he escape? He’d have to kill them all—
He smacked into another wardship spell, hard enough to loosen teeth. It dazed him for half a heartbeat, but that was enough time for his worst fears to come to fruition. A chaocracy spell of breaking shot out from his hands, only to be spell-turned by another of the king’s men.
The officers piled onto him, wrenching back his arms, binding his wrists and knees, mouth and ankles. Wardship spells pressed in like the walls of an invisible coffin. Overpowering him. Just like his father had.
Silas screamed into the gag, cursing them all. They shoved a bag over his head and hauled him up the stairs of his own home...Who had let them in?He tried to use magic, but a King’s Leaguer was at his feet, keeping him inside a wardship box so strong the wizard would undoubtedly be left sick and weak for a fortnight.
Still, Silas didn’t give up. He pulled at the ropes until his skin tore and bled. He pushed magic outward until his still, dry, and cold body shuddered with exhaustion. He writhed and pulled, managing to move the bag off his head—
He saw her there, standing by the front door, her mouth pressed into a hard line, her eyes resolute, her posture that of granite. Watching as the officers carried him out.
The woman with all the keys of the house. The one he’d thoughtperfectfor her position.
As magic drained from his body, shocking him like a dagger sheathed in ice, he knew his donors were being destroyed. That Hulda Larkin had found his secret hideaway. She had known, and she had informed the King’s League. The woman had opened the doors to these men, when Silas wasso closeto peace.
And he would never forgive her.
Chapter 12
September 13, 1846, Blaugdone Island, Rhode Island
That Sunday, Merritt could not determine why Hulda was so remarkably angry with him. She’d been stiff—stiffer than usual, that was—all day. Curt—more curt that usual, again—in her responses to him. Was it because he hadn’t gone to church? Did she not realize how far awaychurchwas, even with an enchanted boat? And he was just on the cusp of breaking into the next act in his novel.
The truth came out when he sat down in the dining room to eat a snack.
Hulda stormed in from the direction of the kitchen. “Socks in the kitchen, Mr.Fernsby? Must we live like we’re... we’re...mountainmen?”
Merritt paused, an apple halfway to his mouth. “Do mountain men have kitchens?”
The question seemed to stoke the fire lighting the housekeeper from toe to head. She held up his dress socks like they were bloody rags—dress socks he’d left at the edge of the sink. “Why are these here?”
He’d honestly forgotten about them. It had been many years since he’d last shared living space with someone. “Because they were dirty. They’re drying.”
She looked sick. Merritt tried very hard not to laugh at the expression—they were mere socks, and they were clean.
“Genteel people do notwash their socksin the same bin as they wash their dishes! And I hung a drying line outside. Did you not see it?”
“I did see it.” He’d run into it once, actually. Nearly lost an eye. “But it was late.”
“And therefore you could not step outside to hang up your socks.”
She had him there. Taking a bite of apple, he chewed, shoved it into his cheek, and added, “It was dark?”
Hulda’s eyes nearly rolled, but she stopped them before the irises reached their peak. “Really, Mr.Fernsby!”
The ceiling shifted from white to blue overhead. Merritt rather liked the color, though he wondered what the house was getting at. He pushed his attention to Hulda. “The maid is coming today, yes? Will she be gathering the laundry?”
“Thank the Lord for that.” She stormed to the window and peered out. “And yes, she will do the laundry, though you will have to leave it in the basket in your bedroom if you want her to be able to find it.”
“They’re just socks, Mrs.Larkin.”
“And your coat is in the living room. Your shoes in the reception hall.”
