Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I would have thought social shame was the least of your problems at the moment,” Emily commented. How much choice had Alicia had? King Randor was her guardian, not an unattached man. He could have pressured her into bed with him easily, if he’d wished, dangling the barony over her head as a reward. “If you don’t think you love him...”

  Alicia cleared her throat. “But if I marry the king...”

  “You’ll be trapped, like Queen Marlena, and incur the enmity of his daughter,” Emily finished, crossly. She wouldn’t have wanted to marry the king - or any king - even before she’d discovered what had been bothering Alicia. “Alassa would be a very unpleasant stepdaughter.”

  Alicia smiled, rather wanly. “I’d hate to have to discipline her.”

  Emily settled back on her haunches, thinking hard. The child could not be aborted without risking complete disaster - and even if she’d been willing to take the risk, the child was innocent. There was no reason why it should suffer for the crimes of its parents. And yet, Alicia could not have a child out of wedlock without destroying her reputation and she certainly couldn’t marry King Randor without risking her own life. Alassa would be unlikely to let matters rest when she had the magic and will to destroy the competition.

  “Tell me something,” she said, after a moment. “Does the king know you’re pregnant?”

  “I haven’t told him,” Alicia said. “But...”

  She swallowed, hard. “My monthlies stopped, Lady Emily. He’ll know.”

  “If the maids reported it to him,” Emily said. Queen Elizabeth’s maids had monitored her periods too, even though she’d been their ruler. There was no reason King Randor couldn’t order his maids to keep an eye on one of his subjects. “I think Queen Marlena does know.”

  And she may have confided in Lady Barb, she added silently. She may even be waiting until the wedding is over before doing something drastic.

  Emily looked down at the floor. “There are two options,” she said, carefully. “The first one is that you go away somewhere, have the child and give him or her up for adoption. You would never see the child again, but your position would be undamaged.”

  “The king would never let me go,” Alicia said. “You’d have to tell him something.”

  Emily swore under her breath. Alicia was right. King Randor needed to keep her under his watchful eye, just in case she decided to contract a marriage with someone else and present him with a de facto claimant to her lands. Or possibly being kidnapped, raped, and forced into marriage. She shuddered at the thought. The aristocracy might look genteel, but the beast was barely hidden under their pretty dresses and gentle manners. She considered, briefly, simply taking Alicia out of the castle herself, but Randor would start a search the moment his spies reported her disappearance.

  And I wouldn’t know where to take her, she thought. Unless I took her to Cockatrice...

  “And he’d want the child, if you told him you were pregnant,” Emily said. Randor’s entire kingdom rested on a single girl. If something happened to Alassa, civil war was bound to break out, sooner rather than later. Randor would want a spare heir even if Alassa remained the Crown Princess. “Damn it to hell.”

  She took a breath. “The second option is to get married to someone else,” she said. It wasn’t a good solution, but it was the best she could think of. “A quick marriage, one that will give the child legitimacy without threatening Alassa’s claim to the throne.”

  Alicia stared at her. “The king would have to authorize my marriage,” she said, finally. “He could pick anyone. Anyone at all.”

  “Then we have to go speak to him,” Emily said. She smiled as she drew on a quote from Earth. Heinlein would have approved, she thought. “When faced with two bad choices, accept the least hazardous and cope with it unflinchingly.”

  “Very profound,” Alicia said. “And what if he says I have to marry him?”

  “I won’t let him,” Emily said. Even if she hadn’t liked Alassa, she knew someone had to stand up for Alicia. “It would tear the kingdom apart.”

  “There isn’t anyone who dares stand up to the king,” Alicia said.

  “I’ve killed two necromancers and a combat sorcerer,” Emily said. She took one of her spare dresses from the hangers and tossed it to Alicia. The older girl wouldn’t want to be wandering the corridor in a dressing gown. “I dare say I can talk to him without flinching.”

  She looked at the clock and frowned. Eleven bells; late evening. It felt later. “Shall we go find him?”

  Alicia frowned as she pulled the dress over her head. “He’ll be in his bedroom, won’t he?”

  Emily shrugged. “One of his personal staff will know where to find him,” she said, as she rose to her feet. “Where did you...do stuff with him?”

  “His offices, normally,” Alicia said. “He has a private bedroom next to his study.”

  “This castle gets bigger every day,” Emily muttered. She cast a glamor around the nightgown to hide her curves from view. “How many private sets of rooms does the king have?”

  “I don’t know,” Alicia said. “But my father was fond of secret passageways and hidden chambers. I used to go exploring until the governesses told me I had to stay in my rooms and learn.”

  Emily nodded and held out a hand. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  Outside, Nightingale was waiting for them.

  “Lady Emily, Lady Alicia,” he said, calmly. He bowed so low his nose brushed the stone floor. “King Randor demands your immediate presence.”

  “And were you about to knock?” Emily asked. The wards had to have sounded the alert, then; King Randor must have told Jade and the guards not to intervene. Had he been spying on the game? “Or were you waiting for us to emerge?”

  Nightingale ignored the question. “The king demands...”

  “Our immediate presence,” Emily finished. She would have welcomed a nap before meeting the king, but she knew it was impossible. “Lead on, if you please.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  EMILY BRACED HERSELF AS BEST AS she could as Nightingale escorted them into yet another private office. King Randor was fearsome, but she’d faced nastier people - and, if worst came to worst, she could simply abandon Cockatrice and leave, taking Alicia and Frieda with her. The king rose to his feet as she entered, looking disgustingly fresh for someone who had probably been awake since early morning; his gaze rested on Emily for a long moment before switching to Alicia. If he was surprised to see them together, he didn’t show it.

  He may have had a chance to speak to Alassa about what happened, Emily thought, as she curtseyed. But Alassa might have done something stupid to him...

  “Explain,” the king ordered.

  “You got her pregnant,” Emily said, flatly.

  If she hadn’t been looking for it, she wouldn’t have seen the flicker of surprise that crossed Randor’s face. Even so, she wasn’t sure if he was surprised that Alicia was pregnant or surprised that Emily had accompanied her to his private chamber. It was hard, so hard, to be sure what the king knew and didn’t know. But if Queen Marlena had guessed the truth, why couldn’t her husband?

  Randor switched his gaze to Alicia, who cowered behind Emily. “Is this true? Are you really pregnant?”

  “Yes,” Alicia stammered. “There wasn’t anyone else.”

  “I should hope not,” Randor said. “You were carefully supervised while you were in the castle.”

  Emily felt Alicia shake beside her, in anger or in fear. If the king’s servants knew he’d been bedding her - and they probably did - word would get out eventually. And, combined with an untimely pregnancy, it wouldn’t be hard for the king’s enemies to put two and two together and get four. Anyone with a vested interest in destabilizing the kingdom would move to take advantage of the new situation.

  And she’s right to fear social shame, Emily thought. Being seduced by the king, even a brief affair, will destroy all hopes of independence.

  “I believe you wer
e meant to protect her and defend her interests,” Emily said, drawing Randor’s attention back onto her. “You weren’t meant to get her pregnant.”

  Randor studied her for a long moment. “I believe that the whole affair is none of your business, Lady Emily,” he said, dismissively. “You may go.”

  “Alassa is one of my best friends,” Emily said, “and you having another child threatens her interests. This is my business.”

  “I choose to disagree,” the king said. There was an icy firmness in his voice that chilled her to the bone. “Affairs of the kingdom are none of your concern.”

  Emily had to fight to keep her voice under control as anger warred with fear. “You have...impregnated a young girl who is in line to a barony,” she said. How could Randor have been so careless? “This girl’s reputation will be destroyed by your actions, unless you marry her, in which case your daughter will have good reason to be furious at you. There will be civil war within the kingdom, Your Majesty; Alassa may not want to trigger a war, but other factions will do their level best to get behind her and start one anyway.”

  She took a breath. “You made me a baroness. Affairs of the kingdom that might plunge us into civil war are my concern, Your Majesty.”

  Randor gave her a long look. “Do you know what happened to the last person who spoke to me like that?”

  “No,” Emily said. Who had spoken to the king so frankly? His brother, perhaps? The same one who had been stripped of his titles and locked away in a gilded cage? “Are you so determined to have another child that you’ll risk plunging an already weakened kingdom into civil war?”

  She heard Alicia gasp, but refused to take her eyes from the king. Alassa’s father was cold and calculating - she’d learned that when they’d first met - and she didn’t think he’d draw his sword or order her immediate execution, yet if he did...

  “I am the king,” Randor said, flatly.

  “Your position is dependent upon maintaining the balance of power,” Emily reminded him, simply. Randor seemed almost stunned. “What happens when you have a fissure between yourself and your confirmed heir?”

  She wondered, briefly, if Randor had considered the possibility. Alassa was hardly the model submissive daughter and, armed with powerful magic, she’d be a serious threat to the king’s rule if civil war did break out. And she had friends and allies from Whitehall...

  And she might see advantage in allying with the rebels, Emily thought. A civil war against the king would undermine the barons too, allowing her to manage the transition into a joint government...

  “Alassa understands the need for an heir,” Randor said.

  Emily met his eyes. “You cannot make the heir legitimate without marrying the child’s mother,” she said. “You cannot do that without putting your wife aside, which will undermine Alassa’s claim to the throne. Can you look me in the eye and tell me that some of your more rebellious noblemen won’t see any advantage in having a child as the country’s nominal ruler, Your Majesty?”

  “I can finesse the politics,” Randor said.

  “You’ll have consumed Alicia’s lands,” Emily said. “The other barons will not take that lightly. I’m sure they would be happy to go to war for Alassa’s rights.”

  “They would have no intention of letting her rule,” Randor pointed out.

  “She would have few other options,” Emily countered. “And you know it. You cannot raise a daughter to be the heir to the throne, then discard her in favor of an unborn child. The best you could reasonably hope for is praying you survive long enough for the child to take power in his - or her - own name. I don’t think Alassa would give you the time. She is your daughter.”

  Randor half-smiled. “She is. And would you stand with her, Lady Emily, if it came down to war?”

  “I’ll always stand by my friends,” Emily said.

  She braced herself, unsure what would happen. Lord Hans would probably have tried to kill them both personally, but Randor was older and far more experienced in wielding power. No matter what he said, he had to be aware of the dangers in provoking his strong-willed daughter, even if the risk of civil war was minimized. Alassa was unlikely to accept her demotion and just walk away, not when she had magic and a strong claim to the throne. Emily wouldn’t have bet good money on the child - or Alicia - surviving more than a year.

  And what will you do, she asked herself silently, if Alassa kills an innocent babe to secure her claim to the throne?

  “Very well,” Randor said, simply. His face became expressionless. “What do you suggest?”

  Emily blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected the king to concede so quickly...but then, he wouldn’t have lasted so long if he hadn’t known when to fold his cards and surrender the game. Or when to stop throwing good money after bad. Alassa was the only person who could take the throne, if he died tomorrow, and trying to acknowledge another child would only threaten the kingdom’s stability. She wondered, suddenly, if Randor had genuine feelings for Alicia or if he’d merely seduced her because he’d wanted a mistress. But it didn’t really matter.

  To someone like him, she thought, the politics always come first.

  “Find Alicia a husband,” she said. “Someone who will accept having to raise a son who isn’t really his. And give her the lands she inherited from her father.”

  There was a long pause. “Alicia,” Randor said. “Would you accept a husband of my choice?”

  “I would prefer a handful of options, Your Majesty,” Alicia said. Her voice was very quiet, barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t want Lord Travis.”

  “He is best kept away from any real power,” Randor said, curtly. His eyes flickered to Emily and back to Alicia as he weighed up options. “Lord Barrows, perhaps?”

  Alicia scowled. “He...is not supposed to be interested in women.”

  “Which would make him the ideal candidate,” Randor pointed out, gently. “You would have a husband, he would have an heir, and there would be no later resentment at a bastard son inheriting your lands. It wouldn’t be the first time a nobleman with such...inclinations...was married to someone who had her own secrets to hide.”

  And Lord Barrows wouldn’t be touching Alicia, Emily thought, darkly. Did you choose him because you thought he wouldn’t touch your mistress?

  She glanced at Alicia and was surprised to see she was actually considering the suggestion, even though it would be a loveless relationship. There would be little hope of further children, unless Lord Barrows overcame his distaste for the female form, and Alicia would never know a man as a true husband. But, on the other hand, she’d have her rights and she wouldn’t have to worry about being forced to sleep with a man ever again. It did have its advantages for her.

  Alicia took a breath. “Is he genuinely not interested in women?”

  “I believe he had a long relationship with Sir Mortimer before he was killed last year,” Randor said. “They were discreet, but very little happens in this castle that escapes my eye. I said nothing because it wasn’t particularly important.”

  And because it gave you something to hold over their heads at a later date, Emily thought, sardonically. Homosexuality wasn’t exactly forbidden, but the requirement to sire the next set of children tended to mean it was frowned upon. They’d be laughing stocks if they were ever discovered...

  She shivered as the implications sank in. Sir Mortimer was dead. Lord Barrows would be mourning his dead lover, even as he was asked to marry Alicia. It would not lead to a happy marriage. At best, Emily thought, they’d be roommates, sharing the same castle without sharing any intimacy.

  Or it might lead to friendship, she thought, telling herself to be optimistic. They’ll know each other’s deepest darkest secret, after all.

  “Then I accept,” Alicia said. “When can we marry?”

  Emily had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. Alicia expected Lord Barrows to marry her, just like that? But then, the king would command it...and Lord Barrows would instantl
y become one of the most powerful and wealthy men in the kingdom. His wife might hold the title and much of the power, but he’d still wield a great deal of influence. He’d have to be out of his mind to turn down the match, particularly if it was presented to him in the right way. A reward for good service, perhaps, or a gift from the king.

  “I shall summon him to my chambers tomorrow morning,” Randor said, “and you will be married in the evening. I trust, Lady Emily, that you will be happy to bear witness?”

  “Of course, Your Majesty,” Emily said.

  Randor met her eyes. “The child will not be formally acknowledged as anything other than the son of Lord Barrows,” he continued, calmly. “There will be no claim to the throne, a fact that will no doubt relieve my daughter. The child will be marked as premature, if necessary, although it will not be the first time a bride produced a child quicker than most married women.”

  He smiled, rather dryly. “I trust that meets with your approval?”

  “It does, Your Majesty,” Emily said.

  “There will not be a big wedding,” Randor continued. “If you wish” - he looked at Alicia - “you may have a larger ceremony a month after my daughter is safely married.”

  “I would rather have a small ceremony, Your Majesty,” Alicia whispered.

  “As you wish,” Randor said. He met her eyes. “I will show no interest in the child beyond the standard formalities shown when an aristocratic babe is born. There will be no attempt to count him as a hidden heir to the throne. You are not, now or ever, to disclose the baby’s true parentage to him.”

  Emily frowned. “What will you tell Lord Barrows?”

  “A very good question,” Randor said. He paused in thought. “Would you rather I told him the truth, or blamed the pregnancy on one of the younger bloods who managed to get himself killed on the jousting field?”

  “The truth,” Alicia said.

  Randor nodded in slow agreement. Emily suspected she understood. No matter what he said, Randor couldn’t discard all ties to the child completely. If Alassa died before her father, he’d need the child as a successor.