The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Drop my eyes and curtsey,” Rose said. Her voice was flat. I was pretty sure she was already tired of royal protocol. It wasn't something she’d been expected to learn back on the farm. “And keep my eyes down unless he asks me a question.”

  “Quite right,” Sandy said, somehow managing to convey the sentiment that His Highness would be unlikely to ever ask Rose anything. “And if he does ask a question ...?”

  “Answer as quickly as possible,” Rose said, “then lower my eyes again.”

  “Correct,” Sandy said. She eyed Rose for a long moment. “Remember, keep yourself under control at all times. You do not want people to remember you as the person who ruined His Highness’s visit to the school.”

  She turned and walked away. I rolled my eyes at her retreating back, then looked at Rose. My friend looked tired, even though it was barely early afternoon. We’d spent the entire morning washing ourselves thoroughly, then donning our dress uniforms. Sandy had promised bloody murder if we even thought about getting dust or grime on the outfits. I’d seen the very nasty glint in her eye and decided it wouldn’t be wise to try her. Our mistakes would reflect badly on poor Sandy.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Rose muttered. “What do I do if he asks me a question I can't answer?”

  I considered it for a long moment. “He probably won’t ask anything too hard,” I said. “If he does, it will be a polite enquiry into your health rather than anything else.”

  Rose smiled, rather wanly. “He will remember us, won’t he?”

  “Probably,” I said. The Crown Prince had chaired the inquest, after all. “But I don’t think he’ll speak to us in public.”

  I sighed, inwardly. My parents would be in the room. So would Sandy, who was technically my elder sister as long as she ran the dorm. Asking me anything without their permission would be a severe breach of etiquette, although I couldn't imagine Sandy saying no to the Crown Prince. Although maybe she would, if she was feeling bitter and resentful. It wasn't as if she had much of a future in Shallot anyway. She might as well do something that would make sure she was remembered.

  “That’s good,” Rose said. I dragged my attention back to her with an effort. “What do we do now?”

  I looked at the clock and groaned. “We wait.”

  It felt like hours - it was hours - before we finally got the call to head down to the entrance hall. I stood, brushed down my long skirt and inspected myself in the mirror. The dress uniform looked identical to the regular uniform, right down to the white shirt, black skirt and blazer, but it was sewn from expensive materials and cost more than all of my normal outfits put together. Rose had been given a dress uniform of her own, on the clear understanding that it was a loan instead of a gift. She’d have to give it back when she outgrew it. I supposed we were lucky that none of us had had a growth spurt since we’d been fitted for the uniforms. They took weeks for even a skilled seamstress to make.

  “Make sure you don’t lose control of your hair,” I told Rose, as we lined up by the door. For once, there were no objections to walking in crocodile formation. “You do not want to see one of your braids unravel in front of His Highness.”

  Rose frowned, but checked her braids anyway. I didn't fault her for worrying. I’d braided her hair after the shower and placed a couple of charmed pins to make sure it stayed in place, but her hair was a little unruly. Mine was worse, but I’d had plenty of experience in braiding it firmly enough to ensure it didn't get out of control for hours. The only real danger was someone trying to hex it, like Alana had done when we were younger ... yet I found it hard to believe that anyone would take the risk. They’d be lucky to be only expelled when they were caught by the Castellan. He’d been doing everything in his power to make sure that Jude’s was ready for the royal visit.

  And yet, the wards are not secure, I thought, as Sandy marched us out of the room. She was so tense I was surprised she didn't make us hold hands. They could snap at any moment.

  It was quiet - eerily quiet - outside, even though lines of schoolchildren were steadily making their way towards the entrance hall. I wondered if someone had cast a particularly odd muffling hex over the entire school, then realised that hardly anyone dared speak with the upperclassmen - and the Crown Prince’s Household Troops - on guard. The latter lined the lower corridors, standing so still that they might as well be statues. I did my best to ignore them as we walked past, despite the urge to put as much distance as I could between myself and the guards. There was something vaguely sinister about them that I’d never felt from the family’s armsmen. But then, that had been in a time of peace. Now ...

  A shiver ran down my spine as Sandy led us into the entrance hall. Row after row of lowerclassmen were already there, trying their hardest to stand still. Teachers moved around the room with clipboards, directing the newcomers to their places. The entrance hall was vast, large enough to hold a clipper ship and have room left over for a handful of fishing boats, yet it seemed cramped. I wondered, rather sourly, why the Castellan had insisted that we all had to pay our respects to the Crown Prince. It was an honour I would cheerfully have foregone.

  But it might have been taken as an insult, I told myself. I’d had to greet visitors to the hall practically from the moment I’d learnt to walk. Mum and Dad had insisted that we dress up like little dolls and stand there, seen but not heard, until the ceremonies were over. We don’t get to go upstairs until after the welcoming formalities have been completed.

  “Stay quiet,” Sandy ordered, when we were finally in our lines. “And don’t even twitch!”

  I tried not to snort at the sheer absurdity of that order. Sure, most of us had been drilled on protocol from birth, but ... we couldn’t stay completely still unless we were frozen in place. I wasn’t fool enough to say that out loud. Sandy was in such a bad mood that I feared she might take it for good advice. It probably broke protocol in some way, I thought, but I couldn't put my finger on it. Perhaps no one had been foolish enough to do it before.

  Rose was twitching next to me. I felt a stab of pity - Rose was hardly used to standing still for hours on end - as I started to glance around the chamber. Someone had removed the Great House banners from the walls and replaced them with the Royal Coat of Arms and a rather large painting of King Rufus the Fat. It had been a long time since I’d laid eyes on the king, but I didn't remember him being quite so imposing. His immense bulk had been more of a danger to shipping than anything else. It was hard to believe that he'd fathered a son as handsome as the Crown Prince.

  “Stay still,” I muttered, as quietly as I could. “You don’t want to attract attention.”

  “I’m trying,” Rose muttered back. “But how long is it going to be?”

  I shrugged. I’d already lost track of time. It felt like we’d been waiting for hours ... I watched the upperclassmen entering the chamber and taking their own places, their faces grim when they weren't tightly controlled. Sandy gave us one last warning look, then hurried over to join her peers. I felt a stab of sympathy. I’d have hated being the one to look after us lowerclassmen too.

  It’s supposed to get easier in second year, I thought. We elect our dorm monitor then.

  Trumpets blew. I hastily straightened as the main doors were flung open, bracing myself for ... anything. A line of aristocrats - some familiar, some not - began to file into the room, walking as steadily as if they were taking part in a grand parade. Some of the ones I didn't recognise were members of the Crown Prince’s household, judging by their livery, but others were complete strangers. There was no sign of my parents or the other House Heads. My eyes narrowed as I spotted Great Aunt Stregheria and a handful of the other grand dames. What were they doing here?

  The aristocrats moved to the front of the room and stopped. They didn't turn and look at us. I tried to look at their backs without moving too much, trying to determine just what they were doing. It looked as though they were staring at the Castellan and his staff, who were waiting at the head
of the room. And then the trumpets blew again. I snapped my eyes back to the door, just in time to see the Crown Prince stride into the room. He was clad in a garment of golden silk, rather than armour. It was a gesture of trust, I knew from my lessons, although I didn't think he was unprotected. There could be any number of charms - and Devices of Power - protecting him from sudden attack.

  A rustle ran through the room as we knelt. The stone floor felt hard against my knees, despite the charms I knew were meant to be embroidered into my skirt. Had they already failed? I forced myself to recite complex magical theory under my breath, trying to keep my mind off the growing discomfort. I’d have to practice kneeling if this was going to become a regular thing, I told myself. Normally, I wasn't expected to do more than curtsey to visitors. It was all I could do to look at the Crown Prince without making it obvious.

  He moved with easy grace, I noted, as he strode up the middle of the room and came to a halt in front of the Castellan. His eyes looked neither left nor right as he passed me. I felt a flicker of disappointment, even though I’d known he probably wouldn't acknowledge me in front of the entire world. It would have been seen as favouring me - and my family - over the rest of the city, blasting the peace talks out of the water before they even began. Rose shifted beside me and I nudged her, gently. She couldn't afford to be noticed now.

  The Castellan knelt. His staff followed suit. I felt a stab of pity for Magister Von Rupert and the others who were genuinely old and creaky, the ones who were even less used to kneeling than myself. Magister Von Rupert looked to be in pain; Magister Grayson, beside him, was supporting him gently. I felt a stab of guilt for staring and looked away, hastily, as more people started to file into the room. My parents were among them, decked out in their finest clothes. It was all I could do not to get off my knees and run to them.

  “Most Gracious Crown Prince,” the Castellan said. His voice was firm, yet there was an undertone I didn't like at all. He was sucking up to the Crown Prince. “We bid thee welcome to our noble halls ...”

  My knees ached. I found it hard to follow the speech - reams upon reams of flattery and outright grovelling - as I tried to keep myself from toppling over. It wasn't easy to stay in place with my muscles threatening to spasm. I was definitely going to practice every day for the rest of my life. It grew so bad that I could barely stand, when we were finally told we could rise. My legs kept threatening to betray me.

  “I present to you my staff,” the Castellan said. He introduced them, one by one. “They will be honoured to show you their classrooms, later in the week.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” the Crown Prince said. If he was disgusted by the Castellan’s flattery, he didn't show it. His voice was warm and friendly, yet steeped in authority. I was impressed, despite myself. It wasn't an easy act to pull off, even for a grown adult. “I look forward to touring your school at a later date.”

  I tried to listen as he kept speaking, but the aching made it hard to concentrate. Instead, I tried to look around the chamber without making it obvious that I wasn't paying attention. I saw Akin’s father, standing next to his wife and surrounded by his clients, his face so impassive that it might as well be carved from stone. My parents stood a careful distance from him, surrounded by their own clients. Dad stood calmly, listening with every appearance of enjoyment; Mum seemed slightly less composed, although it was only evident to someone who actually knew her. I couldn't help wondering, as my eyes slipped to Great Aunt Stregheria, why she wasn't with the rest of the family. She really should be standing next to my father, offering her support by her mere presence, if she was going to come at all.

  Maybe Dad didn't want her standing next to him, I thought. My Great Aunt’s face was utterly impassive. I wouldn't want her standing next to me either.

  She turned, just slightly. For a second, our eyes met. It was all I could do not to flinch. She was angry. I half-expected a hex to come flying in my direction, even though it would mean utter social death for Great Aunt Stregheria. Had Dad ordered her to attend? She wouldn't like that - and no one would like her company - but he might not have given her any real choice. And yet, being invited to join the dinner being held in honour of the Crown Prince was a great honour. The upperclassmen who’d received one of the coveted seats had been bragging about it to anyone who would listen for the last two days.

  Not that they’ll really enjoy it, I thought. I’d attended state dinners as a little girl, where I’d been confined to the kids table and warned to keep my mouth shut. The upperclassmen were older, true, but still children compared to the adults. Even the Crown Prince was a husband and father in his own right. They’ll have absolutely no chance to network when the adults are talking.

  It felt like years - decades, perhaps - passed before the Crown Prince and his entourage finally swept out of the room, followed by the gathered aristocracy. They’d all be housed in the lower levels, we'd been told. A number of bedrooms that had originally been designed for teachers had been put aside for them, although I wasn't sure why anyone had bothered. It wasn't as if the Crown Prince - and everyone else - didn't have a place to stay in the city. But everyone had apparently agreed to stay at Jude’s without hesitation. The prospect for networking - particularly on neutral ground - could not be ignored.

  I sagged in relief as the upperclassmen started pushing us towards the door. My knees still hurt - I was sure they were bruised - but it wouldn't be long before I could rub salve on them, perhaps even get Rose to cast a numbing charm. Or ... I gritted my teeth as I realised Sandy was directing us back to the stairs. I didn't want to go back to the dorm. I was pretty sure Rose didn't want to go either.

  Sandy eyed me, nastily, as I stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

  “I have permission to go to the workroom,” I said. It was true. “And Rose has permission too.”

  “Oh,” Sandy said. “And do you think you have permission to be there when the Crown Prince is visiting?”

  “He isn't going to be in the workroom,” I said. We’d been promised a fate worse than death if we entered the Crown Prince’s quarters, but I knew he wouldn't be in the workroom. “We’ll be out of the way ...”

  “I have to discuss protocol with Rose,” Sandy told me. She looked torn. “You, on the other hand ... on your head be it.”

  I felt a stab of guilt. “Rose has permission too ...”

  “Maybe,” Sandy said. She didn't sound as if she believed me. “But she also needs to study protocol.”

  Rose nudged my arm. “Cat, you go,” she said. “I’ll be down to meet you after the protocol lesson.”

  I groaned, torn between the urge to go to the workroom and forge and a reluctance to leave Rose to Sandy’s tender mercies. Sandy was right, I supposed. Rose did need more protocol lessons. But it felt, very much, as though I was abandoning my friend. Rose didn't deserve to be left alone in the dorm.

  “Go,” Sandy ordered. Her face relaxed, slightly. “I’ll send Rose down soon.”

  Chapter Thirty

  The workroom felt eerie.

  I shivered, feeling cold, as I lit the lanterns and started to gather materials for forging. I had permission to use the main workroom at any time, as long as the upperclassmen didn't have to practice their forging, but it still felt almost as if I was trespassing. I tried to ignore the feeling as I picked up my tools and placed them on the desk, then took an instruction book from the shelves and started to flick through it. There were thousands of Objects of Power I wanted to forge, even though I doubted I’d succeed on my first try. Some of them were so complex that I found it difficult to understand how anyone had succeeded in the first place.

  Unless they shrank the innermost workings afterwards, I thought, as I studied the instructions carefully. But it doesn't look as though they did anything of the sort.

  I shook my head in annoyance, pulling my blazer around me for warmth. I’d have to change into my overalls before I started work - there wer
e spare overalls in the locker rooms - but for the moment, all I wanted to do was figure out precisely what the ancients had done. They’d forged components so small that, if the book was to be believed, they could barely be seen with the naked eye. I wasn't sure how they’d done that, not without cheating and using shrinking spells. But the shrinking spells should have rendered the Object of Power unusable. Perhaps they’d designed Objects of Power that helped them forge other Objects of Power. It certainly should be possible.

  A clattering sound echoed down the hallway and into the workroom. I looked up, hoping to see Rose, but there was nothing. One of the guards, perhaps. Or maybe another student, trying to find a place to work far from the maddening crowd. I wasn't sure if the library was even open while the Crown Prince was visiting. The Great Hall had been closed off for the ceremonial dinner, I’d been told, but what about everything else? Did they intend to send sandwiches to the dorms?