Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8)

by Christopher Nuttall

  He shook his head. “And even though he’s a knight, Emily, he isn’t part of this kingdom...”

  “He doesn’t have to be,” Emily said. “You still have noble blood.”

  “Not as noble as some of the idiots here,” Jade observed.

  “That’s why they’re idiots,” Emily said. She held up a hand before he could object. “You are an experienced combat sorcerer who completed his training in record time. You have a string of high marks in Whitehall, genuine practical experience thanks to Master Grey, and the love of the Crown Princess. She chose you when she could have chosen a foreign prince and avoided all of this hassle. No matter what titles those idiots have, you’re worth ten of them and they know it. They’re putting you down because they know they’ll never be able to rise to your level.”

  “They don’t have magic,” Jade said.

  “It isn’t magic that’s the issue,” Emily said. “It’s nobility. And you are nobler than any of them.”

  Jade smiled. “Flattery will get you nowhere,” he said. “Emily...”

  Emily cut him off. “I seem to remember a Sixth Year student, doing Martial Magic for the first time, gently helping a First Year student who didn’t have the slightest idea what she was doing,” she reminded him. “You could have ignored that student, or tried to drive her away because she’d bring your grade down, but instead you tried to help. And then, when Shadye attacked the school, you fought like a mad bastard and helped save countless lives.”

  She took a breath. “Master Grey took you on walkabout, while you were doing your apprenticeship, and I haven’t heard anything bad about it. Even the nastiest teacher I know...”

  “He did try to kill you,” Jade injected. “You’re biased.”

  Emily ignored him. “Even the nastiest teacher I know thought highly of you,” she said. “I don’t believe Master Grey would have given you your mastery if he thought you didn’t deserve it. There is nothing that makes you unsuitable for Alassa’s hand; you’re calm, competent, unencumbered, and a perfect foil for her. And they know it.”

  She met his eyes. “Every one of those jackasses probably hoped he would marry the princess,” she concluded. “They’re pissed at you because you came in and won her heart - and they’re too stupid to realize that your marriage actually benefits them. Who cares what they think?”

  Jade looked doubtful. “Do you really believe that no one cares about them?”

  “I believe that I don’t give a damn about them,” Emily said. “And neither should you.”

  She looked down at the smouldering remains of the dummy. “And you being married to Alassa may be helpful in the long run. Have you been following the news?”

  “I’ve been trying to track down whoever produced those leaflets,” Jade said. “So far, I’ve managed to get precisely nowhere. I even tried to get picked up like you, but their wards detected me and they scampered.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hide,” Emily said. That was odd. Jade would presumably have masked his signature perfectly, while neither she nor Frieda had done anything to keep their powers completely under wraps. Another magician should have been able to recognize them as magicians even if he didn’t know them personally. “What did you do?”

  “I masked, wore commoner clothes...it was such a perfect disguise that the Royal Guard tried to shake me down for a bribe,” Jade said. He smiled ruefully. “But it didn’t fool the rebels. They got away before I realized my cover had been blown.”

  “At least they didn’t try to kill you,” Emily said. She considered the different possibilities for a moment. Had the rebels doubted they could kill Jade? Or had they determined that he might even be on their side, if approached properly? “Do you have any idea who’s behind it?”

  “Someone very skilled, as I told you earlier,” Jade said. “Other than that...nothing. I tried speaking to the handful of magicians in the city, but none of them knew anything they were willing to admit. Whoever we’re dealing with is a newcomer who has managed to remain apart from the rest of the magical community.”

  “And someone who might have a source in the palace,” Emily offered. “If they heard about our adventure, they might have tightened up security before you could try to sneak into their meeting.”

  “It’s a possibility,” Jade sighed. “There are just too many possible suspects.”

  Emily nodded. The servants were the obvious candidates - they heard everything, while their lords and masters saw them as part of the furniture - but they weren’t the only ones. It wasn’t impossible that a nobleman, perhaps one who saw opportunity in civil unrest, would be working with the rebels. Emily could easily imagine one of the barons trying to co-opt the rebel movement and turn it into a weapon against the king. The aristocrats already had networks of spies and informants they could offer to the rebels if necessary.

  They might think the rebels are bound to win, she thought, although it seemed unlikely. She couldn’t name a single aristocrat, apart from herself, who would believe the outcome could be anything other than a bloody slaughter to put the commoners in their place. Or they may be hoping the rebels will rise up so they can have the pleasure of crushing them.

  “Good luck,” she said. She glanced up at the wards. “Do I have time to shoot off a few spells?”

  Jade gave her a sharp look. “You’ve been in here more times than I would consider healthy,” he said, carefully. His wards would have registered her comings and goings. “Is there something you’ve been meaning not to tell me?”

  “The duel expanded my power reserves,” Emily said, reluctantly. She was mildly surprised that neither Alassa nor Imaiqah had noticed, although both of them had been very busy since she’d returned to Whitehall. “I get headaches when I don’t use the mana.”

  Jade’s eyes went wide. “Are you all right?”

  “Just headachy, some of the time,” Emily said. “I was told to keep expending magic until I learned to cope.”

  “That’s dangerous,” Jade said. He sounded worried. “There’s a reason trying to boost your own magic is considered dangerous.”

  “I know,” Emily said. One didn’t need to try necromancy to court madness. “I didn’t actually plan to enhance my power.”

  “Good,” Jade said. “You’d have been expelled from Whitehall on the spot.”

  He smiled, suddenly. “Would you care for a joust?”

  Emily hesitated. “Alassa wouldn’t thank me if I hurt you or vice versa,” she said. She’d never liked jousting, let alone dueling. “I just want to burn off some energy before my head explodes.”

  “Get to it, then,” Jade said. He met her eyes. “Have you told anyone else about your enhanced magic?”

  “I was advised not to,” Emily said. “Please don’t tell anyone.”

  “I won’t,” Jade pledged. He held out a hand, as if he intended to clap her on the shoulder, then thought better of it. “And thank you for your words of advice.”

  “Just try to remember that she loves you,” Emily said. She frowned as a thought occurred to her. “You might want to tell her what happened last night before she hears a distorted fifth-hand version of it from someone else.”

  Jade winced. “And what happened to her last night?”

  “Alassa had a little too much to drink,” Emily said. “And that’s all you’ll hear from anyone.”

  She doubted either Imaiqah or Frieda would say anything more and there were no other witnesses. Unless King Randor had been spying on them...she shuddered at the thought, then told herself it wasn’t likely. A monitoring ward to make sure that no one got seriously injured was probably as far as he would go.

  “Glad to hear it,” Jade muttered.

  Emily gave him a smile, then stepped into the wards, braced herself and hurled the first spell.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “I’VE HEARD ABOUT FOUR DIFFERENT VERSIONS of the story,” Frieda told Emily, as they sat down together for the evening meal. “The most amusing one claims that Jade tu
rned the entire pub into beer and drank it all.”

  Emily shook her head in disbelief. “The entire pub, or just the patrons?”

  “I’m not sure,” Frieda said. She sounded disgustingly cheerful for someone who’d drunk far too much the night before. “Whichever one sounds more outrageous.”

  “Some people have far too much time on their hands,” Emily muttered. “How are you feeling?”

  “Lord Hans asked me to dance again,” Frieda said. “He’s a good dancer.”

  Emily frowned. “And you’re still not going anywhere with him alone?”

  Frieda smiled. “If I was with him, how would I be alone?”

  “He’s not trustworthy,” Emily said, feeling a sinking sensation in her stomach. “You must not be alone with him.”

  She looked up as King Randor tapped for silence and then launched into a long speech welcoming yet another set of guests for the wedding. Imaiqah had said, in confidence, that dozens of guests had to stay at inns outside the castle, while others had found lodging in nearby manor houses and would be riding in for the wedding itself. Emily wasn’t sure how many guests had been invited - the number kept going up every time she checked - but she had no idea how so many guests could be accommodated, even for a relatively brief ceremony. Alassa’s march down the aisle was going to be watched by thousands of calculating eyes.

  They could just be happy for her, Emily thought, as Randor finished his speech. She’s avoided the threat of one civil war and, if she has a child, she’ll ensure that the succession after her death won’t be disputed by her noblemen.

  She groaned inwardly as the servants started to serve the main course. This time, at least, they’d added chicken to the menu. It was a welcome change from roast beef, lamb or pork, although she would have preferred something a little more exotic. She ate without great enthusiasm - beside her, Frieda ate as though it was going out of fashion - and glanced towards Alassa, sitting demurely beside her father. It was so strange to see her sitting so placidly that Emily would have been worried, if she hadn’t known it was an act. She wondered, absently, if King Randor knew it was an act, then pushed the thought out of her mind. He certainly hadn’t told her off for playing rules lawyer with his instructions.

  Alassa learned the lesson he wanted to teach, she told herself, as she chewed a piece of roast chicken. And that’s all that matters.

  She glanced down at the closest table and frowned. Lord Hans sat next to a handful of aristocratic youths, listening carefully to whatever they were saying. He hadn’t been invited on the pub crawl, as far as Emily knew, but from the way they were pointing at Jade from time to time she was sure they were discussing him. Lord Hans didn’t look very pleased with what they said, she noted. The thunderous look on his face was enough to make her reach for a killing spell and hold it at the ready.

  You’re overreacting, she told herself. A simple freeze spell would be enough.

  The dinner, finally, came to an end. Emily allowed herself a moment of relief as the servants took away the plates and spoons, then pushed the lower tables against the wall as the musicians started to play. She cursed under her breath as Frieda headed down to meet with Lord Hans, then nodded politely to Caleb as he stood and held out a hand, inviting her to dance. If nothing else, they’d both be on the dance floor if Frieda ran into trouble.

  King Randor is still here, she thought, as Caleb led her forward. Doesn’t he have people he wants to meet?

  She puzzled over it as they spun around the dance floor. Thankfully, the musicians didn’t seem to want to call specific dances. Instead, they played a series of random tunes with identical beats, allowing the dancers to follow their own steps. Emily would have relaxed into Caleb’s arms if she hadn’t been dividing her attention between Lord Hans and King Randor. The latter sat in his high-backed chair, receiving a steady stream of guests from the dance floor. She had a feeling that some of them were using the public audience as a way of bragging about their importance.

  “You need to focus on me,” Caleb said, dryly. “You nearly stepped on my feet twice.”

  “Sorry,” Emily said. “I’m just worried...”

  “He won’t do anything to her in public,” Caleb said. “Worry about her when he takes her outside.”

  “She’s my responsibility,” Emily said. “I...”

  “She isn’t your sister,” Caleb said, “and she isn’t your daughter. She’ll object to you trying to rule her life.”

  Emily blinked. “I brought her out of Mountaintop,” she objected. “I...”

  “She isn’t your pet,” Caleb warned her. “Any more than my sisters are mine.”

  “Did you try to boss them around when you were younger?” Emily asked. “Or did Casper?”

  “Mother wouldn’t have let us,” Caleb said. “But I do have powers of observation.”

  He smiled. “And if the asshole does try something, I’ll help you turn him into mincemeat.”

  Emily nodded and forced herself to relax as the dances grew more complicated. Alassa and Jade glided around the dance floor under the king’s watchful eye - maybe he’d stayed so he could keep an eye on his daughter - while Imaiqah danced with a succession of young noblemen. Emily worried about her too, but Imaiqah was a twenty-year-old magician and a close personal friend of both the Crown Princess and the Baroness of Cockatrice. It was unlikely that any randy nobleman would dare try to hurt her when she could inflict horrendous punishment at will. And besides, Imaiqah needed a day off, just to relax.

  The king shouldn’t have put everything in her hands, she thought, sourly. She needs a team of protocol experts just to sort out the seating arrangements.

  She cursed under her breath as she realized why Randor had allowed Imaiqah to be chosen as Maid of Honor. If something went wrong, Imaiqah could be blamed without unpleasant repercussions. Indeed, as a newcomer to the court, her mistakes could be overlooked more easily than mistakes from someone like Alicia. Or Emily, for that matter. If Alassa had talked her into becoming Maid of Honor, Randor might have quietly vetoed the suggestion before it became public.

  Caleb squeezed her hand, gently. “Lord Hans and Lady Frieda are heading into the corner,” he said. “I think Frieda is trying to get your attention.”

  She turned. Frieda was looking at her - and holding Hans’ hand. Emily cursed under her breath and pulled Caleb off the dance floor, heading to the corner where the other two waited patiently. Frieda was smiling - at least he hadn’t tried to hurt her - while Hans was watching Emily with a neutral expression pasted on his face. His hand, at least, was nowhere near his sword.

  “Lady Emily,” he said, politely. “Could I trouble you to accompany us to a private room?”

  Emily felt her eyes narrow. The dining hall was surrounded by private rooms, where a handful of aristocrats could conduct business without fear of interruption. King Randor even had his servants provide drinks for the guests, knowing the guests would keep talking when the servants arrived. But she wasn’t sure she wanted to go anywhere private with Lord Hans, even if Caleb and Frieda accompanied her. She gritted her teeth, readied a handful of spells, then nodded. Lord Hans led her through a side door, down a long corridor and into a small chamber. It didn’t look particularly comfortable, but it was private. Too private.

  “I have a proposition to put before you,” Lord Hans said. He let go of Frieda’s hand and settled down on one of the chairs. “My Lady Frieda informs me that you prefer blunt talk.”

  “I do,” Emily said. She hadn’t missed the possessiveness in his words. Clearly, he had spent some time on the dance floor asking questions. “Speak your piece.”

  Lord Hans looked up at her. “I have a right to the barony,” he said, flatly. “My cousin may believe she has the stronger claim, but...she isn’t quite stable. Nor is she married.”

  “You’re not married,” Emily said. She wouldn’t dispute the suggestion that Lady Regina wasn’t stable. “Is there a point to this?”

  “His Majesty will
listen to you,” Lord Hans said. “If you spoke for me, I would inherit my rights.”

  Your rights, Emily thought. She had a horrible feeling she knew where this was going. And what are you planning to offer me in exchange for my support?

  “I will need to marry, as Baron,” Lord Hans said, answering the unspoken question. “If you support me, I would be honored to marry Lady Frieda.”

  Frieda gasped.

  Emily barely heard her. She had suspected as much, but hearing it put into words - blunt words - was still staggering. She knew that marriages among the nobility were arranged, she knew that few noblemen would cheerfully accept one of the mountainfolk for a bride, she knew that Hans was willing to do almost anything to secure his rights...and it was still a shock. And yet, the hell of it was that, by his lights, it was a fantastic offer. Frieda’s future would be assured; her children, assuming they had any, would inherit the barony after Hans died.

  And inherit both baronies, if I don’t have children myself, she thought. But Hans doesn’t know that, does he?

  She swallowed, hard. Frieda’s marriage wasn’t her choice and it would be hypocritical to suggest otherwise. But even so, Hans had to be desperate. A few dances were hardly the foundation for a lasting relationship. Hell, if Alassa got mocked behind her back for marrying a commoner, Hans would be mocked to his face...although, unless she was very wrong about him, the mocker probably wouldn’t live to regret it. And Frieda wasn’t exactly Emily’s sister, let alone her child. Hans was gambling without being entirely sure what cards he was playing.

  But she couldn’t offer him her support. She just couldn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, unsure if she was addressing Hans or Frieda. There was no time to ask what Frieda felt about the whole affair. Had he even asked her to marry him? “I cannot give you my support.”

  Hans’s face went very still. “I would be happy to agree to a long engagement,” he said, carefully. “She would have time to finish her education first.”