Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Randor cried out in pain, but Emily barely noticed. Her magic was growing stronger and stronger, as if she were trapped in a whirlwind of power...

  “I renounce your title,” she shouted. She felt a flicker of amusement as she saw his eyes widen with shock. He’d never really been able to comprehend that a baroness would willingly surrender her title and all the power that came with it. “And I am not your servant.”

  The power grew stronger as Randor grasped for his sword. He wasn’t a strong magician, Emily realized suddenly; he’d never been strong enough to hold the wards himself. Zed - and then Jade - had done the hard work, but the wards couldn’t be perfect because their master lacked the power to handle them. She could kill him in an instant and they both knew it.

  Jade will be on his way, Emily thought, numbly. She felt sick, suddenly, at what she’d done, even if she’d had no choice. Randor, Alassa’s father, was a broken man now - and it was her fault. I can’t stay here.

  Cold ice fell over her mind as she channeled the magic into a new spell, shaping it with the power of her mind. Randor’s face vanished in a brilliant flash of white light; the entire world rocked around her. She felt, for a long moment, as if she were flying and falling at the same time...

  ...And then she was in the Great Hall of Cockatrice, lying on the floor.

  “My Lady,” Bryon said, in astonishment. Her castellan - no longer hers, part of her mind reminded her - was sitting on the throne, speaking to a handful of farmers. “What happened?”

  A dozen answers ran through Emily’s mind, none of them good.

  “I need to move some of the books from my rooms,” she said, instead. Randor would probably guess where she’d gone...or Jade would track the teleport. And then? He’d send one of his cronies to Cockatrice to run the place until he found a new baron. “And then I’ll be gone.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  IT FELT STRANGE TO BE STANDING in her rooms for the last time, but there was no time for sentiment. Emily opened the door into her secure room, then started to carefully unlock the spells she’d used to keep her possessions safe. Void had urged her to move them to the house in Dragon’s Den, where fewer people tested the limits of the wards, but there simply hadn’t been time. One of the maids brought her spare trunk; Emily tested the pocket dimension and its protective spells carefully, then started to move her books into the trunk. Two of them, she knew, would get her in trouble if anyone knew she had them; the remainder were merely copies of textbooks and various other books that had been printed on printing presses.

  And it feels wrong to leave the other books here, she thought, crossly. The thought of giving up a book was almost unbearable. She was pretty sure that whoever was assigned to Cockatrice in the wake of her departure wouldn’t be a reader. Maybe I can have them boxed up and forwarded to Dragon’s Den.

  She sighed as she closed the trunk and took one last look around the room. It wasn’t really hers, not in the sense that she owned it; the room belonged to the lord of the castle, whoever he or she may be. There was almost nothing in it that belonged to her personally, now that she’d removed the books; the only item she had added to the walls - after she’d taken the stuffed heads down - was a painting of the castle, done by a young artist from the city below. She studied it for a moment, then shook her head. It was better to leave it in place than try to take it with her.

  Bryon knocked on the door as she hefted her trunk. “My Lady,” he said. “What happened?”

  Emily hesitated. Bryon was no fool. He was smart enough to realize that something was badly wrong. But what would he do, if she told him the truth? Try to stop her leaving? Or try to kick her out of the castle? Or...she shook her head. There was no time to play guessing games.

  “I left the king’s chambers rather abruptly,” she said, instead. “He isn’t going to be very pleased with me for the foreseeable future.”

  Bryon paled. “But what about the Lady Frieda?”

  Emily kicked herself, mentally. She’d promised Frieda that her rooms within the castle would be hers for the rest of her life. And she’d left Frieda in Randor’s clutches...she’d be safe enough, she was sure; Alassa would take care of her. But she wouldn’t have the slightest idea of what was going on. God alone knew what Randor would tell his daughter, let alone everyone else. The truth? Or would he make himself out to be a hero who’d banished a monster from the castle?

  “I don’t know,” she confessed. Bryon could put two and two together, if he wished; Randor was unlikely to let her keep her titles, even if she hadn’t shoved them in his face and teleported out. “Just...keep her room clean, for the moment.”

  Bryon nodded and hurried off. Emily watched him go, then walked down to the basement, where the wardstone was pulsing to itself. She was tempted to leave it alone - her successor could hire wardcrafters to dismantle Emily’s wards and build his own - but that would be petty spite. Gritting her teeth, she touched the wardstone and plunged her mind into the wards. It wasn’t hard to remove all traces of her magical signature and reset the wards; her successor would have to key them to himself when he arrived. She pulled her mind out of the wards and looked up, surprised. A maid stood at the far side of the room, her eyes fixed on the ground.

  “My Lady,” she said. “A carriage is approaching the castle.”

  Emily frowned, silently checking her power reserves. She should be able to teleport again, if necessary; she could go to Whitehall as long as she was careful not to jump into the school itself. Or she could try to make it to Dragon’s Den. She could go anywhere as long as she could visualize her destination properly, then add it to the spell’s matrix.

  “Most sorcerers pick a safe place and keep it permanently locked in their minds,” Void had said. “It keeps them from having to rewrite the spell when they’re in a hurry.”

  “Have them shown into the Great Hall,” she said, after a moment. “I’ll see them there.”

  “Yes, My Lady,” the maid said.

  Emily frowned in thought. Randor might have dispatched Jade after her, but a carriage suggested more than one person. It was possible, she supposed, that he might have hired a set of combat sorcerers, yet it hadn’t been that long since she’d left his castle. She would have thought it would take longer for him to organize pursuit. On the other hand, he might have hired more magical help after the assassination attempt and sent them through the nearest portal...

  She pushed the thought aside as she walked up through the corridors and into the Great Hall. The wards sparkled around her, reporting the presence of four magicians, but they could no longer match magical signatures to names and faces. Emily sighed, braced herself and waited for Bryon to show the newcomers into the hall. She relaxed in relief as Alassa, Imaiqah, Frieda and Jade entered the chamber, with Bryon bringing up the rear. Randor wouldn’t have sent his only daughter on an assassination mission.

  But he does have another child on the way, she thought, numbly. Alassa’s position may not be as strong as she would like.

  “Emily,” Alassa said. “What happened?”

  “Your father ordered me to do something unforgivable,” Emily said. “I chose to leave.”

  Alassa stared at her. “You can’t leave!”

  “I never wanted this place,” Emily said, looking up at the bare stone walls. The previous baron had covered them with yet more stuffed heads; she’d removed them, but put nothing in their place. “And I can’t cross lines just to please your father.”

  “The kingdom is utterly unstable,” Alassa snapped. “If you can do something...”

  “I can’t,” Emily said. “Your father broke his word, repeatedly. He broke his word to you, he broke it to the assemblymen and he broke it to the commoners. I’m pretty sure he broke his word to the aristocrats too. I can’t undo everything he’s done.”

  She took a breath. “You need to make changes when you take the throne. If you can’t balance two separate sets of requirements, the kingdom is doomed.”

&nb
sp; “It may be doomed right now,” Alassa said. “But I’m not going to take my power and run for it.”

  Emily felt a stab of guilt. If she bore any responsibility for the crisis, and she’d certainly helped light the fire, she was leaving her friend in one hell of a mess. Alassa would have Jade and Imaiqah to advise her, but it was unlikely her father would either listen to reason or abdicate the throne. How long would it be, she asked herself, before Alassa started plotting her father’s death? Randor might need to be removed before any changes could be made.

  Alassa took a step forward. “What did he want you to do?”

  “Something bad,” Emily said. She didn’t dare tell them about the nuke-spell. Jade might wind up sharing the secret with other combat sorcerers, intending to use it against the necromancers. “He wanted me to take extreme measures against the rebels of Swanhaven.”

  “Who have already murdered their baroness,” Alassa said. “They stoned her to death.”

  “I know,” Emily said. She actually felt sorry for Lady Regina, despite everything. “But I can’t condemn them all.”

  She took a long breath. “There’s something else I need to tell you all,” she said. She looked at Byron and silently ordered him out of the room, then cast a privacy ward. “Something I should probably have told you all years ago. Something King Randor tried to use against me.”

  Jade frowned. “The king tried to blackmail you?”

  “Not exactly,” Emily said. “I’m not from this world.”

  Imaiqah blinked. “This world?”

  Emily hesitated. “There are different worlds out there,” she said. She had a private theory that the Nameless World’s original settlers had come from Earth, as magic might have screwed up evolution, but she knew it would probably never be proven. “I was snatched from one of them by Shadye.”

  “That’s why he was so determined to recapture you,” Jade said. Emily was surprised he wasn’t demanding to know what had happened to his wards. “He must have seen you as a secret weapon.”

  “Something like that,” Emily said, vaguely. “Void rescued me. He took me back to his tower, then arranged for me to go to Whitehall. Everyone assumed I was his daughter, despite the cover story; it just seemed a good idea to go along with it, rather than try to deny it.”

  “Probably a good thing,” Jade said. “Emily, without a powerful protector...”

  He broke off. “How did King Randor find out the truth?”

  “I touched minds with Alassa, back when she was bound with blood magic,” Emily said, after a long moment. “She saw glimpses of my world in my thoughts. I told her the rest afterwards.”

  “And my father forced me to tell him what I saw,” Alassa said. “He must have suspected for a long time that Emily’s cover story didn’t quite add up.”

  “You’re too nice for the daughter of a Lone Power,” Jade said, dryly. “He must have expected someone like Melissa.”

  “Melissa is growing up a little,” Emily protested.

  “She was still a snobby bitch the last time I met her,” Alassa said. “Emily...you do realize this means we can’t talk openly? Father will not expect us to remain in contact. He may even formally banish you from the kingdom, at least for a few years.”

  “We have the chat parchments,” Emily said. She cursed Randor under her breath. Had he planned to threaten her friendship with Alassa if she’d refused to help him? “And you may make visits outside the kingdom.”

  “I wouldn’t count on either,” Alassa said. “If he pronounces you an exile, Emily, no one is supposed to talk to you. I’m not even sure what will happen to your baggage.”

  “It’ll be sent on, if it’s safe to touch,” Jade said. Few mundanes would willingly touch something belonging to a magician. “Your father won’t risk keeping it, I think.”

  Emily cleared her throat. “There’s a small wooden box under the bed, marked with your name,” she said to Alassa. “That’s the real present I meant to give you. The locking hex will open at your touch. I’ll explain the details through the parchments.”

  Alassa smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “My father will throw a fit about me accepting anything from you now...”

  “If you don’t want to...” Emily said.

  “It’s high time I stopped letting my father dictate my affairs,” Alassa said. “And I will keep in touch through the parchments.”

  Emily looked at Jade. “Keep her safe, please.”

  “She’s the only heir he has,” Jade pointed out.

  “Not any longer,” Alassa said. She hastily told Jade about Alicia. “But the earliest someone can be Confirmed is fourteen. He couldn’t put me aside before then.”

  She turned back to look at Emily. “I don’t know what will happen to the barony, Emily, but my father will probably not recognize Frieda’s claim. Your people may be unhappy.”

  Emily looked at Frieda. “You will have a place in Dragon’s Den,” she promised. Perhaps she should buy Frieda a house, right next to hers. That would be something Frieda couldn’t lose if something happened to Emily. “And I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t think King Randor likes me,” Frieda said.

  Bloodlines, Emily thought. Frieda wasn’t related to any aristocratic bloodline, as far as she knew. He would have worried about setting a precedent by allowing Frieda to inherit the barony.

  She shook her head. Randor had other problems to occupy his time. Petty spite could wait.

  “You’ll always have a place with me,” she said, as reassuringly as she could. “We did plan to go on tour, didn’t we? You can come with me now.”

  “If I can, I will,” Frieda said.

  “I understand what you did,” Imaiqah said. “I’m not sure I agree with you, but I do understand.”

  “Take care of Alassa,” Emily said. “And we will see each other again.”

  She gave her friend a tight hug, thinking hard. Randor was unlikely to listen to her now, if she asked for mercy for Paren’s family. He’d order them all executed the moment he found out. But if she told Imaiqah the truth, warning her that Nanette might blab everything from a safe distance, Imaiqah would have to keep the secret from her best friend. It would dwell on her mind, overshadowing everything...

  Better to be silent, Emily thought. She had a feeling Nanette would keep the secret for a while, if only to wait until it could be deployed to best advantage. Blackmail only worked if the secret remained a secret. And besides, Nanette might be caught by the Mediators and executed before she can reveal anything.

  She gritted her teeth. It probably wouldn’t be that simple. She had a nasty feeling she’d see Nanette again. And her mysterious ally.

  “You take care of yourself too,” Alassa said. “And keep checking the parchments.”

  She took a breath. “I’m going to ask father - I’m going to insist - that Imaiqah takes the barony, at least until your exile is rescinded,” she added. “Imaiqah did save a number of lives during the...the assassination attempt, so there’s good cause. You’d hardly be the first aristocrat to be banished from the kingdom for a few years.”

  Emily winced. There were hundreds of thousands of lives at stake. If the king put a monster in the castle...

  “Please,” she said. She looked at Imaiqah. “If you’ll do it...”

  “I can try,” Imaiqah said. “But the king can’t afford to banish you forever.”

  “It has to look permanent, even if it isn’t,” Alassa said. She gave Emily a sharp look. “Tearing down his wards like that was...unwise.”

  “I know,” Emily said. Randor had to be furious. “I’m sorry.”

  “So you should be,” Alassa said. She gave Emily a tight hug. “But I’ll do what I can to ensure nothing is changed while you’re gone.”

  Emily nodded, then watched as Alassa, Imaiqah and Jade headed back to the carriage, while Frieda headed up to her room to pack her stuff. Emily felt another stab of guilt as she watched her go, then turned back to look at the throne. She’d nev
er felt comfortable on it, but she’d done her best to balance the competing responsibilities and claims on her time. No one in the Nameless World would give it up, yet...

  It feels like a weight off my mind, she thought, as she turned her back. I won’t have millions of lives depending on me any longer.

  She looked up as Bryon entered the chamber. “My Lady,” he said. “Is it true?”

  “It is,” Emily said. “I am no longer Baroness Cockatrice.”

  Bryon looked stricken. “My Lady, you shouldn’t go. There are thousands of people in the barony who are depending on you. Your successor might not be so understanding.”

  He had a point, Emily knew. She’d lowered taxes, encouraged innovation and even provided microloans to people who wanted to set up their own businesses. All very minor steps, by Earth’s playbook, but revolutionary in Zangaria. And it had paid off. She hadn’t lied to Hans when she’d told him her tax revenues were higher than any other baron’s. Her people had been growing richer, too.

  To Hans, I was sacrificing short-term gain, she thought. Her successor, who might not even be the baron, would be looking to extort as much money as possible from the barony before he was replaced himself. To him, Cockatrice will look like an untapped reserve of money.

  “I can’t stay,” Emily said.

  “You must,” Bryon said. “You have been a just and kind ruler.”

  Emily wanted to laugh. She’d been a hands-off ruler. She hadn’t had the time to judge every case in the barony, let alone micromanage her subjects. But, compared to the previous baron, that made her practically perfect in every way. Cockatrice had been developing new political structures that might - might - allow it to survive the chaos to come.

  “I can’t stay,” she said, firmly. “The king is likely to declare me an exile before too long.”

  “There are people who are already talking about rebelling against the king,” Bryon warned, darkly. “If you leave, they may rise up against your successor.”