Read Online Royal Institute of Magic: Elizabeth's Legacy by Victor Kloss - Free Book Online Page B

by the door,
which, Ben noticed, said “Warden Director”.
    “I have come for these two
charming young boys,” Wren said.
    Draven stepped forward, thrusting
his chin out. “They’re not yours to take.”
    Wren raised a slender finger.
“Quite true, Draven. However, they are not yours either and
they are certainly not under arrest.” She turned to Ben, and
Charlie. “If you’ll come with me, I can provide you with
some long overdue answers.”
    Draven glared, daring Ben or
Charlie to defy him.
    “Yes, please,” Ben
said and Charlie nodded vigorously. The leashes around their torsos
immediately disappeared.
    “You idiot,” Draven
said, shaking a hairy fist at Wren. “You realise what you’re
doing? You’re jeopardising my rescue operation. The entire
Institute and England could fall because of you.”
    “Oh, don’t be so
melodramatic, Draven.”
    Draven turned to Ben, a look of
desperation in his eyes. “There could be spells on the boy. I’d
stake my life on Greg and Jane putting some sort of tracking spell or
even a shield. If we could trace that, we might be able to locate
them.”
    For the first time, Ben started
listening.
    “You might be right. Why
don’t you convene the Executive Council and arrange something
properly?”
    “We don’t have time
for that,” Draven said, raising his voice. “Our position
weakens every minute we waste in bringing the Greenwoods to justice.”
His eyes narrowed to slits and he pointed a finger at Wren’s
face. “When the Council asks why we delayed, you’re going
to be in deep trouble, and I’m going to love watching you squirm and plead your innocence.”
    He opened the door and stormed
through, his entourage following behind. It slammed shut.
    Wren smiled serenely at them.
“Who fancies a cup of tea?”

— Chapter Nine —
Answers at Last
    They followed Wren back to the grand staircase.
    “A few more flights, I’m
afraid,” she said in her rich voice. “Allow me to
apologise on behalf of Draven. I know he might come across as the
devil incarnate, but deep down he’s not a bad person.”
    “Could he really track my
parents if they had cast spells on me?”
    “In theory, yes.”
    Ben couldn’t believe he was
throwing the word “spell” around with such nonchalance.
Spells meant magic. The evidence was everywhere, but hearing adults
say it gave it credence.
    Charlie was puffing by the time
they left the staircase and entered another set of double doors. This
time the sign said “Department of Spellswords” with a
sword shown below it. Beyond the doors was another statue, this one
of a cheerful man holding a sword in one hand and one of those
strange guns in the other.
    “Michael James,” Wren
said, noticing their interest. “He was the first Spellsword
Director; quite a man by all accounts.”
    Without the pre-occupation of
being captured, lassoed and marched by a raving madman, Ben was able
to admire the hallway. This floor wasn’t as lavish, but it felt
spacious, with white walls and wooden beams. As they followed the
hallway round the corners, Ben started to get a feel for the place.
On every floor there seemed to be a corridor that looped round, with
rooms branching off. Ben was sure that if they kept walking they
would be back at the double doors.
    The hallway was busy and several
people passed by, nodding respectfully at Wren and giving Ben and
Charlie curious looks. Wren seemed to know everyone’s name and
graced all who passed with a smile.
    “Here we are,” she
said.
    They stopped by a door that said
“Spellsword Director” and Wren pushed it open.
    Ben wasn’t sure if he’d
stepped into a luxurious office or a hotel suite. At the back of the
long room, by the window, was a sturdy wooden desk and an ornate
antique chair. Against one of the walls was a suite of high-backed,
deep brown furniture surrounding a small, exquisitely carved oak
table. There were paintings of incredible landscapes on the walls and
behind the sofa was a