The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22), Christopher Nuttall [books to read romance TXT] 📗

the arrangement. She didn’t see a single person, apart from themselves, as they moved through a maze of corridors. The wards pulsed around them, remaining oddly consistent. It was hard not to feel as though the corridors were constantly changing, that the castle was designed to ensure that anyone who tried to escape only went deeper and deeper into the building. She shivered, again. Were they being led into a trap?

Void looked impassive as they walked through an arch and into a mid-sized chamber. The door ahead of them was clearly part of a cell, with a barred window allowing the gaoler to peer inside. Emily gritted her teeth as the gaoler opened the door, revealing a surprisingly luxurious room. It wouldn’t have been out of place in Whitehall. There was a bed, a washroom, a desk and a chair... it might have been a room in an inn, if it weren’t so clearly a cell. The wards were growing stronger, pressing down on her. She felt as though her head was being stuffed with cotton wool.

They’re designed to sap my will to escape, she thought, numbly. It would be easy, almost terrifyingly easy, to sit on the bed and just... wait. She’d seen all sorts of spells designed to trap the victim, by lulling them into a daze, but this one was an order of magnitude more powerful. Knowing it was there wasn’t enough to deflect it. The moment I lose my concentration, I’m doomed.

She frowned as she spotted the food waiting. It looked to be of good quality, but she was fairly sure it wasn’t safe to eat. Someone could easily spike the food with potion and render her powerless - or worse. The jug of water would be harder to spike, but it could be done. She knew a dozen spells to check if something was safe to eat, yet the wards were pressing down so hard she wasn’t sure she could make the spells work safely. Or if she could trust the results. She cursed under her breath. Sooner or later, she’d have to drink something. She knew she couldn’t hold out forever.

Void touched her shoulder. “I’ll be back as quickly as possible,” he said. “Don’t be downhearted.”

The gaoler motioned for her to step into the cell. Emily hesitated, feeling as though she was stepping into a trap. She trusted Void and yet... she felt abandoned. They could go back to the tower and... and what? She sighed. If they - if she - went on the run, it would be taken as a confession of guilt. And she was in no state to go on the run. She nodded stiffly and walked into the cell. The wards - somehow - managed to get stronger. She closed her eyes for a long moment, drawing on what remained of her magic to build shields in her mind to protect herself. They wouldn’t last forever, not with the wards constantly grating on her, but...

She flinched as the door closed behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a cell, but... she shook her head in irritation. Randor’s cells had been designed to make it very clear that the prisoner was in deep shit. The unfortunate inmates had been chained to the walls and forced to share their bread and water with the rats. Here... it was easy to get lulled into a false sense of security. The room could easily have passed for a standard guestroom. There was even a small shelf crammed with books. Emily took one and glanced at the title, then frowned. Basic Council Law. She wasn’t sure if someone was trying to give the accused a chance to defend themselves or engaging in sadistic torture. She’d read the book years ago. The legalese was almost impossible to comprehend.

A sense of despondency overcame her as she peered into the washroom, then sat on the bed. Void had come to her aid, but... she found herself looking at the door, praying he’d return soon. He’d left her alone. He’d left her alone and...

Master Lucknow’s gone mad, she told herself. The rest of the council will refuse to go along with him.

But, as she waited for something to happen, the thought provided no consolation at all.

Chapter Three

IT HAD NEVER REALLY OCCURRED TO Emily, not even when she’d been at Whitehall, that making someone wait for punishment was part of the punishment. She’d never had a problem with being alone, even when she’d been told to stay in her room and not come out. And yet, as she started to lose track of time, she found herself wishing Master Lucknow would just get on with it. He’d clearly not bothered to lay any of the groundwork for obtaining a warrant and arresting her, let alone putting her on trial. The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. She knew she had enemies, but how many of them were prepared to set a precedent that could - that would - come back to bite them?

Maybe he thought he could arrest me and execute me without anyone realizing what he’d done, Emily thought. She couldn’t see how Master Lucknow had intended to pull it off, not when he’d had a small army under his command, but it was the only explanation that made any sort of sense. If he swore them all to secrecy, the truth might never come out.

She shook her head. Master Lucknow had never struck her as stupid. A plan that relied on everyone keeping their mouths shut was a very stupid plan indeed. And yet... what had he had in mind? What was he playing at? Did he think he could condemn her without dragging her in front of the entire council? Or was he gambling he could dispose of her before anyone interfered? Was he prepared to die himself to ensure that she died, too?

Her body ached, dully. She pulled up her shirt and frowned at the bruises. She’d