Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8)

by Christopher Nuttall

  He must have had it keyed to him, she thought, as she opened the false bottom and found the hidden weapons. And now that the curse has been triggered, it’s safe.

  There was a small collection of knives at the bottom, the largest no bigger than the cutting blades she’d used in Alchemy. They didn’t look particularly special, but as she pulled them out of the chest she sensed powerful charms woven into the metal. Some of the charms ensured the knives would never blunt, but the others...the others were unknown to her, although two reeked of bad intentions and dark magic. She put them down, careful not to touch the blades with her bare hands, and tried to analyze them. Her spells kept returning responses she didn’t understand.

  Lady Barb will have to take a look at them, she thought, as she checked the wardrobe. Alassa would like them, if they were safe.

  She brushed aside a handful of preservation spells and opened the wooden door. The wardrobe was surprisingly full; a handful of robes, a formal dress outfit from Mountaintop and a long sword, resting in brackets on the side of the wardrobe. She checked the blade; again, it was charmed in a way she didn’t understand. And it was heavy, heavier than she’d expected. Master Grey clearly hadn’t believed in charming his sword to make it lighter. If Emily hadn’t been forced to practice by Sergeant Miles, she probably wouldn’t have been able to lift it at all. She put the blade on the bed and checked for a second hidden compartment, but found nothing. The wardrobe was resolutely mundane.

  Pushing the wooden door closed, she crossed back through living room into the final room. It might have been a kitchen, once upon a time, but it was now a library; Master Grey had possessed a number of reference texts, some common and some unknown to her. One of them was on the Code Duello; she shivered as she realized he’d sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair and plotted her death, organizing his campaign until it was nearly perfect. And it had come far too close to success.

  Alassa would already have copies of the common books, she thought, as she picked up the unknown books. They promised to be interesting - and besides, she didn’t want to give them up. The others...

  She sighed and walked back into the living room, then opened the door.

  “Please come and look at these,” she said, addressing Lady Barb. The two women had been talking about something, she was sure. “I’d like a second opinion.”

  Lady Barb followed her into the bedroom and studied the sword in some astonishment. “If that’s what the markings say it is it dates all the way back to the early days of the Empire,” she said, surprised. “His family must have passed it down the line from eldest son to eldest son.”

  Emily blinked. “What is it?”

  “There are legends of swords that were gifted by the gods,” Lady Barb said. “Most of them were supposed to have some special powers, although the bards disagree on precisely what.”

  “Whatever the plot demands, I suppose,” Emily said.

  Lady Barb shot her a sharp look. “Be that as it may, any sword from that era is likely to have a few stories told about it, even if they’re just kept in the family,” she mused. “Master Grey’s family was known for being old and secretive. I imagine he intended to marry and father a child at some point.”

  “Or maybe father the child without getting married,” Emily said, tartly. She looked up at Lady Barb. “What do I do with this sword?”

  “Whatever you want,” Lady Barb said. “You won the duel. It’s yours.”

  She turned her attention to the knives as Emily contemplated the sword. “Those two are fairly normal daggers, designed for a grown man,” she added. “You know the rules of knife-fighting?”

  “Don’t, unless you have absolutely no choice,” Emily said.

  “Correct,” Lady Barb agreed. She picked up one of the blades and examined it. “This one is designed to catch a sword and shove it aside, allowing the bearer to stab the swordsman in the chest. It’s the sort of stunt you’re not meant to do unless you’re desperate or an idiot.”

  Her expression hardened as she studied the darker blades. “These two have been charmed to be lethal to anyone who gets cut,” she added. “Those charms are notoriously dangerous and unpredictable. You might want to simply destroy the knives.”

  Emily nodded. “There’s no historical value to them?”

  “I doubt it,” Lady Barb said. “There’s nothing particularly special about the blades. Master Grey probably charmed them himself.”

  “I’ll give the sword to Alassa,” Emily said. “She’d like it, I think.”

  “Jade might like it more,” Lady Barb said.

  “They can share,” Emily said. “There’s only one sword in the apartment.”

  Lady Barb nodded. “What else did you find?”

  “A handful of books I want to keep, a set of reports and paperwork...not much else,” Emily said. “I expected him to have more, somehow.”

  “He never bothered to put down roots,” Lady Barb said. She looked around, her expression almost sad. “This place” - she waved a hand at the bare walls - “was the closest he had to a home, but it wasn’t his. He didn’t seem to want to gather worldly wealth, or start a family, or anything else. All he had was his duty to the Allied Lands.”

  “And a favor he owed Fulvia,” Emily reminded her. “He wouldn’t have tried to kill me if he hadn’t owed the bitch a favor.”

  “Perhaps,” Lady Barb said. “He had good reason to be concerned about you, though.”

  She gave Emily a long look. “Gather everything you want to keep and we’ll box it up and send it back to the castle,” she suggested. “Everything else...what do you want to do with it?”

  Emily unrolled the sheet of parchment and studied it for a long moment. She’d heard of a few of the items - enchanted devices were always interesting - but others were new. What was a Wand of Ice anyway? And who in their right mind would want a Poison Tooth? Or a Vampire Blade?

  “I don’t know,” she said.

  Lady Barb took the parchment and glanced down the list. “Keep it,” she advised. “Even if you don’t use it yourself, someone will be happy to pay good money for it.”

  “Very well,” Emily said.

  “Ask Mistress Danielle to keep it in storage for you,” Lady Barb said. “And the non-magical stuff?”

  Emily frowned. “Just give it to anyone who wants it,” she said. She wasn’t particularly concerned about the furniture or the bedding. “Mistress Danielle might want to take what’s left and give it to charity. The landlord can re-let the apartment afterwards.”

  “True,” Lady Barb agreed.

  They boxed up the sword, the knives, the books and the paperwork, then invited Mistress Danielle into the apartment. The Mediator looked around, took the remaining books and then promised to ensure the remainder of Master Grey’s possessions went to a good home. Emily wondered what the dark-skinned woman was thinking, as she poked around her former master’s home, but Mistress Danielle kept her face expressionless. She didn’t smile, or show any trace of emotion, until they were out of the apartment and the door was locked and securely warded.

  “I meant what I said,” Mistress Danielle said, addressing Emily. “I would be happy to complete your training if you wish.”

  It took Emily a moment to remember that Mistress Danielle had offered to give her some private training, as a form of apology for her role in the duel. “I don’t know what’s going to happen next year, at Whitehall,” she said. She’d need to get her exam results before she knew what courses she’d be taking for her final two years. “But after that...I’d be delighted if you’d teach me.”

  Mistress Danielle smiled, rather tiredly. It struck Emily that the last few months couldn’t have been easy on Mistress Danielle either; she’d been Master Grey’s second during a duel almost everyone had considered grossly unfair, even if it was technically legal. Her friends and comrades would have been looking at her suspiciously, wondering just how deep a role she’d played in the whole affair. And she’d given up half
a day to accompany them to Master Grey’s home...had she been on detached duty ever since the duel?

  But Master Grey lost, she thought. That couldn’t have made things any better for her, could it?

  “Let me know what happens,” Mistress Danielle said. “I do have about a year’s worth of leave I can use, if my superiors won’t agree to let me spend a year or so at Whitehall.”

  “You could try another post,” Lady Barb said. “The Grandmaster never allowed a female tutor to take Martial Magic. You’d be better off applying for a different position and teaching Emily on the sly.”

  Emily glanced at her. “You think the new Grandmaster won’t let her teach me?”

  “I think it would be seen as a particularly unjustified piece of favoritism,” Lady Barb said, curtly. “There were quite a few complaints about you taking Martial Magic in First Year, Emily, and the Grandmaster had to force his will against extreme opposition. You were, quite simply, unqualified for the class.”

  “I know,” Emily said. “But I learned.”

  “There are gaps in your knowledge,” Lady Barb said.

  “We will try to fill them,” Mistress Danielle promised. She bowed, politely. “And, if you don’t mind, I’ll return and inform my superiors that the remainder of the apartment can be stripped and then returned to the landlord.”

  Emily watched her go, then helped Lady Barb carry the box out of the apartment block and onto the streets. It still struck her as odd that a Mediator would choose to live in the tiny apartment, but the White City was the heart of the Allied Lands. Besides, unless his family had been incredibly wealthy, he wouldn’t have been able to afford much more. The White City was just as cramped as Beneficence, if for a different reason. Only the very wealthy could afford to maintain permanent homes in the city.

  “We’ll go back to the portal and take this to the castle,” Lady Barb said. “Unless you want to put it in storage and explore the city for a while?”

  “I don’t know,” Emily admitted. She’d seen the White City before, two years ago. “I just...I just feel bad.”

  Lady Barb frowned as she cast a privacy ward. “About Master Grey? Or King Randor?”

  “Both,” Emily said. She looked down at her hands. “I don’t know what to do!”

  “There’s nothing you can do about Master Grey, save for living your life as best as you can,” Lady Barb said, firmly. “It’s natural to feel guilt about doing something wrong, Emily, but Master Grey deliberately set out to kill you. There isn’t a single person in authority who would have batted an eyelid if he’d ignored your challenge, or insisted on a non-lethal duel and beaten you to within an inch of your life. No, he set out to kill you and you killed him first. You had no choice.

  “And, as for King Randor, you will have to make up your own mind what to do,” she added, after a moment. “You could always tell him the truth?”

  “About Earth?” Emily asked. “Would he believe me?”

  “It would answer a few of his questions,” Lady Barb said. “I assume what you told him came from Earth?”

  “It did,” Emily said.

  “But he might not listen, regardless,” Lady Barb added. “And part of your reputation will be gone.”

  Emily said nothing as they passed through the portal, walked back down into the city and headed up to the castle. The crowds seemed as happy as ever; she looked around, half-expecting to see rebels everywhere, but saw nothing. And yet, there were extra soldiers on the streets, watching warily as they marched up and down the cobblestones. Maybe the rebels had pulled in their horns while they gathered their forces...

  “Lady Emily,” Nightingale said, when they passed through the gates. He’d been waiting for them, it seemed. “Several newly arriving guests of the king would be pleased to see you in the small audience chamber.”

  Emily groaned - she wanted to lie down and think, not practice her courtly etiquette - but passed the box to Lady Barb and headed up the stairs to the audience chamber. Two guards stood outside, carrying swords; they bowed politely to Emily as she walked past them into the chamber. Inside...

  She stopped in surprise. “Caleb?”

  Chapter Twenty

  “EMILY,” CALEB SAID. HE LOOKED AS though he wanted to give her a hug and didn’t quite dare, not in front of his father and the king. “It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too,” Emily said, sincerely. She hadn’t expected Caleb for a couple more days, when the ceremony began in earnest. “Your father came too?”

  “King Randor invited us both,” Caleb said. “I think the king has some matters he wishes to discuss with him.”

  Emily scowled, despite herself. The only "issue" she could think of was the relationship between her and Caleb. Who knew what the king and the general would say to one another, in private? She could easily find herself pushed into moving forwards faster than she would have preferred...or encouraged to abandon the courtship before it became serious. Caleb deserved better than to become a pawn in the king’s political games. But...

  “So it would seem,” she said, looking at the king. He was speaking to General Pollack, speaking so quietly that Emily couldn’t hear his words. “Do you know what?”

  “I believe it has something to do with the necromantic threat,” Caleb said. He paused. “I’ve never been in a king’s castle before. How do I comport myself?”

  “Just pretend you’re attending a formal dinner at Whitehall,” Emily offered. She was too irked by the king’s presumption to offer any other advice. “I wonder what else the king wants to say to your father.”

  King Randor cleared his throat, calling all eyes to him. “I bid General Pollack and his son welcome to the castle,” he said. “It is my very great pleasure to invite them to join us at the High Table for our evening meal.”

  That’ll annoy some of the nobility, Emily thought, feeling a flash of vindictive glee. First Jade’s family, now Caleb’s? They won’t be able to crowd the king any longer.

  She pushed the thought aside as Randor gave her a sharp look. “Lady Emily, perhaps you could give Caleb a tour of the castle,” he said. It wasn’t worded as an order, but Emily knew it wasn’t anything else. “I have much to discuss with his father.”

  “As you wish, Your Majesty,” she said, tightly.

  “And you both are invited to join us in my private chambers, after the dinner and the first dances,” Randor added. “I will have you summoned when the time is right.”

  Emily curtseyed hastily - beside her, Caleb bowed - and hurried out of the chamber. Behind her, she sensed a handful of privacy wards slipping into place. She checked as best as she could for any tracking or surveillance hexes and found nothing, although that wasn’t conclusive. The castle was so riddled with secret passageways that the walls literally had ears. Some of the engineering work was designed to carry words further than anyone imagined, without a hint of magic.

  She glanced at Caleb, tapped her lips and led him up the stairs to her rooms. A handful of servants passing by paid no attention to either of them. Emily wondered, briefly, just how many of the servants had seen the leaflets - and just how many of them believed what the rebels had to say. They’d know, all too well, that the actions and beliefs of some of the aristocracy were far from being noble. The servants were practically property.

  They stepped into Emily’s room; she hastily erected a new privacy ward of her own, nodding at Caleb to do the same. Anyone trying to work his way through her protections would find it harder, if two separate magicians cast two separate wards. The air blurred around them as she led him to the chairs beside the fireplace - the servants had stacked it with wood when she’d arrived, but they hadn’t lit it - and turned to face him. Moments later, she was in his arms, kissing him with a desperate passion she hadn’t known she could feel.

  “Emily,” Caleb said, when they could speak again. “That...that...what is happening?”

  Emily sighed and motioned for him to sit down. “The king has interested hims
elf in our relationship,” she said, bitterly. Kissing him like that had been a little out of character. “He believes he has veto power over it.”

  Caleb blinked. “He isn’t your father!”

  “I know,” Emily said. “But he is my liege lord. He seems to think he should have been consulted before we embarked on a courtship.”

  “I tried to do it properly,” Caleb said. He ran his hand through his brown hair. “I never realized the king would have to be involved.”

  “It’s a rare situation,” Emily muttered. There just weren’t that many powerful aristocrats who were also complete newcomers. Even Imaiqah, who had been born a commoner, understood the way things worked at an instinctual level. And her marriage wasn’t likely to be as important as Emily’s. “I think he’s trying to make a point.”

  Caleb frowned. “A point?” He cursed, softly. “He’s trying to dictate to you, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah,” Emily admitted. “I don’t think there are any reasonable grounds for disallowing our courtship, but he’s trying to make the point that we should have asked him first. And if I do respect his position, I wind up submitting myself to him. Cockatrice becomes a ball and chain wrapped around my ankle.”

  She shook her head. “And to make things worse, the kingdom is in a state of unrest,” she added. “And he would be more than human if he didn’t blame me for it on some level.”

  “And so he wants to assert his control over you, then use you as a tool,” Caleb finished. “I would have thought he’d be happy just leaving you as Alassa’s friend.”

  Emily shrugged. “I don’t know what his endgame is,” she said. “But I don’t want him to have any control over me.”

  “You accepted the barony,” Caleb said. “You have the choice between going into rebellion or accepting his control.”

  Emily gave him a sharp look. “When did you become an expert on court politics?”

  “I attended Stronghold,” Caleb reminded her. “We were taught to understand how both magical and aristocratic communities worked. Randor worked hard to place you in his debt; you’re expected to serve him in return. It really isn’t that different from the magical community, just...more formalized.”