The Princess in the Tower

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Are you sure?” Emily leaned forward. “Where is the Queen?”

  “She’s ill,” Alicia said.

  “She’s been ill for nearly three years,” Emily snapped. “The only public event she attended was her daughter’s wedding. And the excuses keep changing. How long do you think it will be before she’s quietly divorced–or murdered?”

  Alicia blanched. “The king...”

  “The king is a ruthless egomaniac who is focused on two objectives,” Emily said, allowing her voice to harden. “He wants to tighten his grip on the country, which means crushing anyone who can raise an armed force to resist him, and to have a male heir. If Alassa’s child is a boy, your son will be for the chop; if the child is a girl, he’ll take your son and turn him into his heir.”

  She saw the fear in Alicia’s eyes, but she didn’t dare soften her tone. “And what will happen if Alassa takes the throne instead?”

  “No,” Alicia said. “I...she’d kill me.”

  “She certainly has no reason to be pleased with you,” Emily said, carefully. Alicia hadn’t been given a choice, not when she’d been the king’s ward, but Alassa probably didn’t really appreciate it. “On the other hand, she would be grateful if you were to assist her rise to power.”

  Alicia glared at her. “How many people helped Randor, only to be discarded when he no longer needed them?”

  Ouch, Emily thought. It was a fair point, even though she suspected that Alicia was referring to her rather than Paren or the Levellers. And she might not believe any promises...

  “You have my word of honor that I will do everything in my power to convince Alassa to leave you in peace, as long as you don’t do anything to threaten the peace of her kingdom,” she said. “And if she doesn’t agree to leave you alone, I will take you and your son somewhere outside the kingdom.”

  Alicia’s eyebrows rose. “You would do that for me?”

  “If you assist us,” Emily said. She didn’t blame Alicia for being sceptical. Betraying a ruler was one thing, but betraying a friend was quite another. “I do have several places to put you where you and your son will be safe.”

  “And harmless,” Alicia muttered.

  Emily nodded. “Yes,” she said. There was no point in denying it. “But at least you’d be alive.”

  She leaned back, again. “If you stay with the king, the best you can hope for is becoming a pretty thing for him to carry on his arm. You will never wield power or influence, let alone go back to your barony. Alassa, on the other hand, will reward you for helping her.”

  “Really,” Alicia said, sarcastically.

  “If nothing else, you having a son of royal blood may be helpful to her later,” Emily pointed out, smoothly. “Interested?”

  “I don’t know,” Alicia said. “I just don’t know.”

  Emily nodded. She wasn’t too surprised. Alicia hated and feared Randor, but she was too aware of his presence–and how thoroughly his power pervaded her life–to go against him lightly. It would be hard to gain any traction at all before he shut her down, not when everyone who was supposed to be working for her actually worked for him. Normally, Randor would be risking the wrath of the other Barons, but now...now, Randor was on the verge of war with them anyway. They could hardly get more hostile.

  She removed a chat parchment from her pocket and held it out. “This is primed for you and me,” she said. “The first time you want to use it, prick your finger and let a little blood drip onto the parchment. It’ll be sucked into the material and vanish. After that, only you and I will be able to see anything written on the parchment.”

  “I thought only magicians could do that,” Alicia said. She eyed the parchment as if it were infinitively fascinating. “You’ll have the other piece, won’t you?”

  “I will, yes,” Emily said. She’d primed the matching piece of parchment so Jade and Cat could read it as well as her, but no one else. “Just make sure the king’s sorcerers don’t get a look at it. They’ll know what it is.”

  Alicia tensed. “And then...and then what?”

  Emily shrugged. Randor seemed reluctant to execute female nobility, although he had no qualms about slaughtering female commoners. Alicia would probably wind up in the Tower or formally stripped of her power, with everything being passed to her husband. Some observers would probably claim that Lord Burrows had pulled off a brilliant political coup...

  “I don’t know,” she said. “For the moment...why don’t you tell me what’s happening in the castle?”

  Alicia looked down at the bed as she started to talk. Emily listened, silently matching names to faces as Alicia told her a combination of useful intelligence and pointless gossip. She didn’t care about the courtship between a minor lord and lady, or the rumor that a highborn lady had gotten pregnant off her groom, but she was genuinely interested to hear who had and hadn’t accepted the king’s invitation to court. Baroness Harkness–and her husband and adopted son–hadn’t appeared, nor had Barons Gaunt, Gaillard, Silversmith and Thornwood. Their retainers hadn’t shown their faces either, as far as Alicia knew. The battle lines were starting to take shape.

  Almost all of the northern baronies and estates are allied against the king, Emily thought, slowly. This war could split the country in half.

  She wasn’t too surprised. Cockatrice, Swanhaven and Winter Flower were, directly or indirectly, under Randor’s control. Gladstone was the sole exception, but Baron Gladstone and Randor had been friends for decades. Gladstone wouldn’t abandon his friend as long as there was a decent chance Randor would keep his throne. And yet...the south was also where the New Learning had had the greatest impact. It was quite likely that Randor would wind up fighting a war on two fronts.

  “If anything changes, I want you to tell us,” Emily said. “If, of course, you decide to help.”

  Alicia gave her a despairing look. “Do I have a choice?”

  Emily hesitated. Alicia had almost no defenses against magic. Randor had presumably forbidden her from wearing any kind of protection, even after Alassa had briefly turned her into a rat. What Alicia did have wouldn’t stand up to Emily for a second. It would be easy–it would be very easy–to put a compulsion spell on her, to turn her into a spy...it would be easy, but it would be wrong. Emily knew, all too well, that Alassa would do it without hesitation, yet...yet she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t deprive someone of their free will.

  “Yes, you do,” she said, as gently as possible. “If you want to stay with the king, you can do so. I won’t try to stop you.”

  Alicia looked bitter. “Thanks.”

  “If you don’t want to help, throw the parchment in the fire,” Emily told her. “And if you do, just prime the parchment with your blood and write to me.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Alicia said.

  “Just don’t get caught with the parchment before you make up your mind,” Emily said. She smiled, humorlessly. “Put it in your underclothes or something. Don’t let the maids see it either.”

  Alicia colored. Emily had to smile, even though it wasn’t really funny. Strip-searching a noblewoman was unthinkable, no matter what the noblewoman had done. Even now, Randor probably couldn’t get away with searching a girl who could trace her linage back over centuries. But Alicia probably needed help to get in and out of her courtly dresses. The smiling girls who helped her dress every morning–and undress every night–couldn’t be trusted. If they saw Alicia concealing a piece of parchment in her underwear they might think it was a love letter...or something that should be reported to their superiors.

  “I’m serious,” Emily said. “If Randor sees you with it, he’ll never trust you again.”

  “He never trusted me in the first place,” Alicia said. She picked up the parchment. “I...Emily...”

  “Then think of this as a chance to get some of your own back,” Emily told her. She knew it wouldn’t be easy. Alicia had spent too long in Randor’s power. “And, perhaps, a chance to carve yourself a place in a wo
rld without him.”

  She took a breath. “There’s a spell I can use to make sure you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone, even by accident,” she added. “Do you want me to cast it on you?”

  Alicia looked terrified. Emily understood, all too well. She’d been terrified of magic too, when she’d fallen into the Nameless World. The knowledge she could be hexed at any moment had scared her utterly. And Alicia didn’t even have magic of her own. She had to be aware that Emily didn’t need her permission to put a spell on her. Hell, enchanting her to keep her mouth shut was the smart move no matter what choice she made.

  “Just you,” Alicia said, slowly. “Please...”

  Emily nodded and cast the spell. “One question,” she said, more to keep Alicia concentrating on something else than to satisfy her curiosity. “Who was the drunkard I met as I made my way upstairs?”

  Alicia colored. “A very distant cousin. My parents...they let him stay in the mansion, in exchange for him not putting up a fuss when he was removed from the family line of succession. He just...he just drinks too much.”

  “So I saw,” Emily said. She winced in bitter memory. Perhaps her mother would have made something of herself if she hadn’t climbed into a bottle and stayed there. “There are potions that can help with that, you know.”

  She finished casting the spell, then stood. “Write to us soon or burn the parchment,” she advised. “And...whatever choice you make, make it yourself.”

  Alicia nodded, slowly. “Thank you,” she said, slowly. “And Emily...how did you get in here?”

  “Your defenses are flimsy,” Emily told her, bluntly. She wasn’t going to go into details, although a skilled wardcrafter could probably close most of the loopholes and a small army of guards would close the rest. “But I don’t think they can be improved.”

  “The king wouldn’t let anyone improve them,” Alicia agreed. “I...goodbye.”

  Emily nodded, shortly. “Good luck,” she said. “Be seeing you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  EMILY HAD HALF-EXPECTED TO RUN into a force of guards as she made her way back down the stairs to the scullery–it was quite possible that Randor had the mansion under covert observation–but the corridors were as dark and silent as the grave. She altered her spells as she passed, ensuring they would release as soon as she was safely out of sight. The maids might wonder at how late it had suddenly gotten, but they wouldn’t think anything of it. They probably didn’t know that freezing someone’s thoughts–as well as someone’s body–was possible.

  She took extra care as she sneaked back through the garden, watching for patrols as she reached the walls. A competent guard force would make sure to vary its routines, in hopes of trapping someone who watched them before trying to sneak through, although she hadn’t had time to conduct any surveillance before crossing the walls. It seemed odd, she thought as she scrambled over the wall and dropped down into the alleyway, that the king wasn’t investing much time and effort in protecting his bastard son. Was Randor pinning all his hopes on Alassa’s child being a boy? Or was he unwilling to obviously favor Alicia over the other nobility?

  Emily tensed as she saw someone moving in the shadows, then relaxed as Cat stepped into view. “How did it go?”

  “We had a chat,” Emily said, as Cat’s magic probed her. She could have been captured, subverted and returned to them in less than–she glanced at the moon–two hours. Her defenses would have lasted longer, she thought, but the boys were right to be careful. “I’ll tell you the rest later.”

  “Got it,” Cat said. “Come on.”

  Jade was standing at the top of the alley, hidden behind an obscurification charm. Emily nodded to him as he joined them, then led the way back onto the Royal Mile. It was quieter now, save for the sound of music and happy–almost desperate–laughter from the taverns. The only people on the streets, save for the ever-present soldiers, were a handful of young men making their way home. There were no women within eyeshot.

  “A bunch of guards nearly caught us as we waited,” Jade muttered, once they were some distance from the mansion. “I thought someone must have tipped them off before they marched past.”

  Emily glanced at him. “Where were they going?”

  “Somewhere north,” Jade said, darkly. “If they had been looking for us, they would have quartered the entire area.”

  “And probably searched the mansion too,” Emily said. Alicia had the right–technically–to refuse a search without a royal warrant, but Emily doubted she had the nerve. Even if she did have, the king would just brush her concerns aside...if she was lucky. “As long as they didn’t see you, we should be fine.”

  She looked up towards the castle, still glowing against the night sky, and shook her head. If they could get inside...she knew it wouldn’t work. Randor had protected his castle so thoroughly that Emily doubted anyone could get inside. The parchment trick might work twice...

  “Crap,” Jade said, as they slowly headed northwards. “Can you hear that?”

  Emily listened, carefully. She could hear a loud noise in the distance, people shouting for...for something. She couldn’t make out the words. But the racket had to be terrifyingly loud, down by the docks, for her to hear it at all. Her blood ran cold as she realized the implications. The soldiers Jade and Cat had seen heading north had been moving to quash a riot.

  Cat swore. “We should hurry back to the townhouse.”

  “Unless the riot is at the townhouse,” Emily pointed out. The sound seemed to be growing louder. She could hear people slamming shutters in the distance...it wouldn’t be long before young men started pouring onto the streets, looking for a chance to join the rioters or crack some skulls or simply start looting. “Where is it?”

  Jade peered forward. A faint glow could be seen in the distance. “The docks,” he said. “Maybe...maybe our inn.”

  Emily glanced at him. “Someone tried to break in?”

  “I don’t think so,” Cat said. “The wards should have flashed a warning if someone tried to open the door without permission.”

  “Either way, there’s nothing we can do about it now,” Jade said, practically. The sound of running footsteps echoed towards them. “We’d better hurry back to the townhouse before it’s too late.”

  Emily nodded, glancing around her as they picked up speed. The streets were dark and cold, but she could sense eyes peeping from behind curtains. This part of the city was solidly middle-class, insofar as the term meant anything in Zangaria; the inhabitants were skilled craftsmen and artisans, men–and even a handful of women–who had something to lose if the city dissolved into chaos. They might not be as powerful as the nobility or as wealthy as the merchants, but they had enough status that they didn’t want to risk losing it. Randor might find a lot of support in them if he thought to ask.

  She caught sight of a man pinning a poster on the wall, working with frantic speed as the sounds of fighting grew louder. The Levellers kept putting up posters and the soldiers kept tearing them down, often before anyone had a chance to take a look at them. Emily would have considered it a waste of good paper if she hadn’t known that the real propaganda was spread by pamphlets. People caught with them could expect a beating, at the very least, but they had to look before tossing them in the fire.

  “This way,” Jade hissed. “Hurry!”

  They turned the corner and froze. A fight was going on at the bottom of the street. Emily couldn’t tell who was winning–or even who was fighting–but it looked nightmarish. The rioters were screaming and shouting, chanting angry slogans as they overwhelmed the soldiers and beat them to death with their bare hands. Others were kicking down doors and screaming for the inhabitants to join them or else. Emily shuddered, helplessly, as the chanting grew louder. Mob rule had come to the streets.

  “Shit,” Jade said, glancing behind them. “We need to move!”

  Emily looked–and froze in horror. A line of soldiers was approaching, carrying bladed weapons. They
shone in the moonlight as the soldiers advanced, shouting royalist slogans to encourage their comrades to keep going. She snapped out of it a second later as Jade yanked her forward, into an alleyway. A handful of homeless men shouted curses at them as they fled down the darkened street, crashing into bins and makeshift shelters in their desperation to escape. Behind her, she heard men starting to scream.

  “The soldiers will be in trouble if the mob charges them,” Cat said. He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself of it. “They’ll lose their weapons and everything else.”

  “And a lot of rioters will lose their lives,” Jade said, as they reached the townhouse and hurried up the stairs. “What happened?”

  They were too keyed up to sleep, even once they’d checked the wards were still in place, so they sat in the living room and drank Kava while Emily told them everything she’d heard from Alicia. Jade was darkly amused at Alicia’s fear of Alassa and her father, although he admitted that Alicia had good reason to fear. Randor saw her as a pet, but Alassa saw her as a rival. Alicia needed to do something spectacular to convince Alassa to let bygones be bygones.

  “If not, she can just go into exile,” Cat said. “It won’t do her any real harm.”

  “Unless she wants to keep the barony,” Jade pointed out. “There’s no way she can keep it if she goes into permanent exile.”

  He met Emily’s eyes. “Do you think she’ll contact us?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “She’s got good reason to want to get out from under Randor’s thumb, but moving to Alassa’s camp might be a case of jumping out of the boiling potion and straight into the fire.”

  She met Jade’s eyes, willing him to understand. He wouldn’t be happy making decisions for his wife–and Alassa would be furious if she caught him doing anything of the sort–but he might have no choice. Alassa had to understand that she needed to give Alicia a break, as long as she behaved herself. Or...Emily would have to take Alicia somewhere a long way away.

  And she wouldn’t want to live in Dragon’s Den or Heart’s Eye, Emily thought. She found it hard to imagine Alicia settling down in a little apartment and getting a regular job. What sort of work could she do? Would she expect me to support her for the rest of her life?