And then the darkness reached up and pulled her into blessed, merciful, sleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
“EMILY,” A VOICE SAID. “ARE YOU all right?”
Emily fought her way back to awareness. Her memories were jagged, her head was pounding like a drum, her body felt dehydrated ... she pleaded for water, honestly unsure if she was thinking or speaking until someone held a glass of cool liquid to her lips. It crossed her mind, a second later, that she should be careful what she drank, but it was already too late. She needed the water.
Her eyes sprang open. Julianne was kneeling beside her, holding a glass of water in one hand and a potions gourd in the other. And there was something at the corner of her eye ... something sitting on her shoulder. She turned her head, despite the throbbing pain, but saw nothing. And yet there was something there, just out of sight ...
Shit, she thought, numbly. It was hard, so hard, to form a coherent thought. What happened?
Memory returned in fits and starts as she drank the remaining water, too thirsty to care about the possible risks. Robin had ... Robin had ... she felt the remains of his spell surrounding her, too complex and powerful to fade quickly even though she’d torn it to ribbons when she’d broken free. It was an order of magnitude more complex than anything she’d seen in the past, more powerful than any compulsion spell she’d studied in the future. She wasn’t quite sure how it had managed to get though her defenses—she didn’t think Robin had managed to get a sample of her blood—but it had clearly succeeded. If Void’s protections hadn’t been in place, she would have ...
She gagged, her stomach heaving, as she remembered what he’d wanted her to do. Hodge had merely wanted to rape her; Robin would have turned her into a helpless slave, a helpless observer trapped in her own body as he did what he willed with her. And the spell he’d used would have bound her permanently. Even if someone else had come to her aid, freeing her would have been beyond their abilities. She honestly wasn’t sure if the spell could have been undone, if she could have been freed to live a normal life, in her own era. Robin would have crippled her.
He’s dead, she told herself.
“I think Father will want to talk to you,” Julianne said, nervously. “Are you fit to walk?”
Emily frowned. Julianne was acting skittish ... she felt a stab of guilt as she remembered that it should have been Julianne’s wedding night. But instead of consummating her marriage to Bernard, she’d been trapped in a warded room with Emily. And she might not know what had actually happened. She might have wondered, deep inside, if Emily was a murderess ... or if she was trapped permanently, if Emily died. Whitehall might have been able to muster the raw power to tear down Emily’s wards, but the surge of power might well kill Julianne as the wards collapsed.
“I don’t know,” Emily managed, finally.
She waved off Julianne’s attempt to help as she stumbled to her feet. Her body ached, pains everywhere, but nothing actually seemed to be broken. Julianne held out a gourd; Emily took a sniff, then declined the offer of painkilling potion. It would make the pain go away, if only for a few hours, but it would also make her sleepy. And she needed water desperately. Her legs felt wobbly and pains ran up and down her arms, but nothing seemed to be broken. She could move.
“I’m sorry,” she managed, as she dismantled her wards. Someone had probed the edges of them, she noted; thankfully, they hadn’t been able to break the wards down. “This should have been your night.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Julianne said, shortly. There was an edge in her voice that told Emily she should worry about it. “We were taking it slowly.”
Emily felt another stab of guilt as they opened the door and walked out into the corridor. If Julianne and Bernard didn’t consummate their marriage within a few days, it wouldn’t be legal or binding. Or, at least, that would be true in Zangaria. She had no idea if that was true in the past. But then, Julianne and Bernard could simply lie. No one would know if they consummated their marriage immediately or had waited a couple of days.
There was no one outside when they emerged, much to her relief; they made it down to the kitchens without incident. Julianne asked Emily to remain outside as she hurried into the kitchens and picked up a large gourd of water and some bread and ham. Emily ate and drank quickly, feeling ravenous; Julianne, standing beside her, ate more delicately. They had just finished when Bernard appeared, striding along the corridor towards them. The look he bestowed on Emily was far from friendly.
I interrupted his wedding night, she thought, morbidly. And I killed his best friend.
“Lord Whitehall wants to see you,” he said, curtly. Emily couldn’t help noticing that he was keeping one hand on the pommel of his sword, although he shouldn’t have needed it to defend himself. “Come with me.”
Emily exchanged glances with Julianne, then followed Bernard down the corridor. The ... thing ... at the corner of her eye seemed to twitch in and out of view, although she couldn’t get a good look at it. Two other apprentices—two of the newer apprentices—were standing outside the office doors, looking nervous. Their eyes went wide when they saw Emily and they started to sidle backwards, as if they were terrified of her. Emily groaned inwardly at their expressions, wondering if people would always be scared of her. She didn’t want everyone to be scared of her.
Let them hate, as long as they fear, the cynical side of her mind noted. You keep turning their world upside down.
“Julianne, wait here,” Bernard ordered. “Emily, come with me.”
Emily clenched her teeth at his tone—he’d barely been married a day and he was already bossing his wife around—but Julianne showed no reaction. Emily hoped—prayed—that she’d make Bernard pay for his tone later, then followed Bernard through the door and into the chamber. Whitehall, Master Chambers, Master Wolfe, Master Keldor and Master Reaper were sitting behind a stone desk, their expressionless faces chilling her to the bone. She could feel the wards growing stronger, pressing down on the magic in the room. Master Wolfe had been busy, Emily thought, as she fought to keep her own expression under control. She doubted she could summon enough magic to do real damage.
“Emily,” Whitehall said. For a second, his eyes went very wide; a moment later, the expressionless mask snapped back over his face. He indicated a stool placed in front of the desk. “Please, be seated.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said.
She sat, gingerly. The stool was barely large enough for a child half her age. It forced her to look up at them, as if she came as a supplicant. She supposed they wanted to use it to put her in her place. Lady Barb had discussed such tricks time and time again, pointing out that one didn’t need to use magic to make an impression. It was why King Randor had such a magnificent—and crowded—throne room. The chamber was designed to make the man on the throne the center of attention.
“Emily,” Whitehall said. There was a note of cool disapproval in his voice, although it didn’t seem to be directed at her. “Please could you tell us what happened?”
Emily took a breath. Master Wolfe looked friendly—he’d relaxed after she sat down—but Master Chambers, Master Keldor and Master Reaper were eying her nastily. She could sense a demon sitting on Master Chambers’ shoulder, the sense of cool malice making her jittery as she hastily pulled her senses back. The ... thing ... at the corner of her eye seemed to respond to the other demon, although she could never have put the feelings into words. Panic threatened to overwhelm her as she realized she might just have picked up a demon herself. And yet, she’d never tried an unsupervised summoning rite ...
“Robin tried to rape me,” she said, bluntly. Her skin felt dirty, even though he hadn’t actually touched her. She wanted to fill a bathtub, then scrub herself until her skin was raw. “He used a spell to try to control me.”
She outlined the entire story, starting with Robin luring her out of the hall and ending with his death. Master Whitehall listened, his face expressionless, as she described
the spell Robin had used, but neither Chambers nor Reaper seemed to believe her, even though the fragments of the spell were still present. Wolfe showed no visible reaction, although she had the feeling he was quietly analyzing the remains. She hoped—prayed—that the spell wouldn’t go any further. If Wolfe put it together, if it got out of his hands ...
Robin won’t be the last person to use it, she thought, grimly. And its next victim will not have hidden protections.
“Absurd,” Chambers said, when she finished. “Apprentice Robin could not have cast such a spell.”
“His magical signature is all around her,” Master Wolfe pointed out, coolly. “Who else could have cast the spell?”
“There isn’t enough of the spell left to tell what it was designed to do,” Chambers countered, sharply. “Have you ever heard of a spell that controlled someone so completely?”
“No,” Wolfe said. “And until I came to this castle, I hadn’t heard of a transmutation spell I could use either.”
Chambers ignored him. “Your apprentice,” he said, addressing Whitehall, “killed my apprentice. I demand the Rite of Blood.”
“Out of the question,” Whitehall said. “If your apprentice was experimenting with demons ...”
“He was going to become a DemonMaster,” Chambers snarled. “Calling up and using demons was his life!”
“He was already staggering towards madness,” Whitehall snapped back. “For his eyes to change at such a young age ...”
“And we have only her word his eyes were changing,” Chambers insisted. He glared at Emily, nastily. “For someone to develop red eyes at such a young age is completely unprecedented. The youngest person I know to even develop a hint of red eyes was easily twice Robin’s age!”
His eyes hardened. “And she has taken his demon,” he added. “How could that have happened if he had not opened himself to her?”
Emily staggered as she was suddenly aware—very aware—of the demon sitting on her shoulder. It felt as though she was balancing something that was both impossibly heavy and feather-light. Panic surged through her as she realized that the demon had done something to her, just to make sure she didn’t react badly to its presence; she reached up with her hand to try to push it away, but felt nothing. The waves of malice she would have expected to be emanating from the creature weren’t there. Instead ... there was nothing.
Chambers was still speaking. Somehow, she dragged her attention back to him.
“She has concocted a tissue of lies,” Chambers said. “It is true that my apprentice found her attractive and attempted to court her, despite my orders, but he would not attempt to bind her to his will or force himself on her. He could not have hoped to keep such a deed hidden indefinitely and, when he was caught, his punishment would be remembered for generations to come. Robin was not stupid.”
“Young men can be very stupid when they are in lust,” Wolfe said. “And Robin was already teetering on the verge of madness.”
“He was not mad,” Chambers said. “Does anyone honestly believe that we would not have thrown him to the demons if he’d assaulted her in such a manner?”
But you have to defend him, Emily thought, coldly. He was your apprentice. His behavior reflects badly on you.
She cursed under her breath. No one could deny she’d killed Robin, not after her magic had damaged the castle itself. But it would take a skilled magician to put the traces of the control spell back together ... and even if Master Wolfe succeeded, Master Chambers could insist that it hadn’t been Robin who’d cast the spell. He might just manage to convince the others of it too. Robin hadn’t shown the same ability as Bernard, Julianne or Emily herself. Hell, Emily wouldn’t have believed him capable of casting such a spell if she hadn’t seen him do it.
And there’s a monster sitting on my shoulder, she thought. The demon’s presence seemed to flicker in and out of her mind. There were moments when she was very aware of it and moments when it was almost gone. That doesn’t make me look very good either.
She tensed, wondering if Master Chambers had set the whole thing up. Robin had been a disobedient apprentice, at least if he’d been telling the truth when he’d claimed that his master hadn’t approved of him trying to court Emily. Chambers might just have decided he wanted to be rid of him. Or, perhaps, to use him as an unwitting tool against Whitehall or Emily herself. She had a nasty feeling that Chambers wouldn’t have been too unhappy if Robin had succeeded.
“I demand the Rite of Blood,” Chambers said. “Blood calls for justice.”
Whitehall steepled his fingertips. “I believe she is telling the truth.”
“You would,” Chambers snarled. “She’s your apprentice—an apprentice you cannot control!”
“Robin would hardly be the first young man to believe he could just take something he wanted,” Whitehall added. “And with demons whispering in his ear, he might have been in no state to understand the difference between right and wrong.”
Chambers took a long breath. “This ... this ... girl ... has bewitched you,” he snapped. “How many more are going to die?”
He waved a hand at Emily, who stared back defiantly. “She killed Master Gila,” he added, darkly. “And then Lord Alfred dies too. And now Robin De Bold is dead. Who is next?”
His gaze bored into Emily’s eyes. “Who will be next?”
Emily gritted her teeth as she felt his mind pushing against hers, the pressure growing rapidly as he tried to break through her defenses and ransack her mind. Void’s protections were in fragments, she realized suddenly. She had to hold him out completely on her own, without additional help. Her head started to pound as she felt her defenses giving way ...
... And then Whitehall reached out and punched Chambers’ arm, hard.
“That will do,” he said. “I am convinced she is telling the truth.”
“Her or me,” Chambers snapped. The tension between the two masters, Emily saw now, had been growing for weeks. Their friendship was dying right in front of her. “Put her out of the castle or I will leave, today.”
Whitehall rose. “Do you think I would condone applying the Rite of Blood to an innocent girl?”
“People die around her,” Chambers said. “Who will be next?”
He rose and stalked around the table. “Your grand project is doomed to fail,” he said, as Master Reaper rose and followed him. “And it will all be because of her.”
Emily braced herself, half-expecting a curse or a physical attack as he passed, but Master Chambers merely scowled at Keldor.
“You should come too,” he snapped. “How long do you think it will be before you too are isolated?”
“There’s too much to do here,” Keldor said. “Master ...”
“Then we are no longer companions,” Chambers said, cutting him off. He jabbed a finger at Emily. “How many people will die because of this snake in the grass?”
He strode out of the room, followed by Master Reaper. Emily was surprised they didn’t slam the door as they left.
“Go make sure they don’t do anything stupid before they leave,” Whitehall ordered. It took Emily a moment to realize he was talking to Wolfe and Keldor. “Or try to take something that doesn’t belong to them.”
“Of course,” Wolfe murmured.
Emily allowed herself a moment of relief as soon as Whitehall and she were alone. “Thank you.”
“You are my apprentice,” Whitehall said. “Standing up for you is one of my duties.”
His face tightened, noticeably. “And you have a demon on your shoulder.”
Emily shuddered as another stab of panic ran through her. “Get rid of it!”
Whitehall didn’t seem to notice her tone. “I don’t know how,” he said. “Did you summon it?”
“No,” Emily said. “I wouldn’t dare!”
“The person who might be able to give us some advice has just stormed out,” Whitehall said, curtly. “And I’m not sure I could trust his answers in any case. Demons may not
be able to lie directly, but they can be very misleading.”
He frowned. “I’ll have to give the matter some thought,” he added. “If you beat Robin so thoroughly, his demon might have transferred itself to you ... I’ve never seen it happen, but some demons have been reported to trade masters when they have a chance. Or something else might be at work.”
Emily saw—again—the demon at the corner of her eye. “Will it try to hurt me?”
“I don’t know,” Whitehall said. “But you would be well-advised not to listen to a word it said.”
“Yes, Master,” Emily said, tiredly. “And I’m sorry ...”
She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I should never have left the hall with him.”
“Perhaps not,” Whitehall said. “But Robin made the choice to rely on demons, rather than try to develop his own magic.”
Emily swallowed. “I meant about Lord Chambers,” she said. “I knew the two of you were friends.”
“I will mourn in my own time,” Whitehall said. He met her eyes, gently. “And be kind to Bernard, if you can. He’ll be mourning his friend too.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
WHITEHALL, EMILY DISCOVERED OVER THE NEXT four days, had been entirely correct.
Bernard rarely spoke to her, even when she was in Julianne’s company. He certainly made no attempt to seek her out or try to include her in any of the commune’s activities. Emily had little inclination to play games or go roaming through the forest, but she couldn’t help feeling oddly disconcerted by his sudden lack of attention. And yet, she knew Bernard was mourning his friend. Robin and he had been friends for years before Robin’s fall.
“He’ll start talking to you again soon,” Julianne reassured her. “He’s just a little ...”
“Mad at me,” Emily finished. “And I don’t blame him.”
She shook her head in annoyance. She’d tried talking to some of the other apprentices, but they had very little in common. The boys needed to see her as a teacher, while the girls were so different from her that it was hard to hold any sort of conversation with them. It would need at least a generation, she was sure, before the girls were ready to learn on equal terms with the boys. Indeed, from what she remembered learning in history, it would be Bernard—as Grandmaster—who would drop most of the gender barriers at Whitehall.
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