“You do not question your seniors,” Jacqui said, as she deliberately turned her back on Emily. “Go report to the Warden, all of you. And then take your wretched game outside, where you’re meant to be.”
Emily gasped. “Isn’t that a little harsh?”
Jacqui swung round, again. “Would you like to join them?”
The Second Years fled, running down the corridor as if they were being chased by a pack of hunting hounds. Emily didn’t blame them, not really. Going to the Warden would be bad, but being caught between two older students would be worse. She was silently grateful that she’d had nothing to do with the Head Pupils in her younger years. The students who had been noticed had always regretted it.
“They’re young,” Emily pointed out, choosing to ignore the threat. “And the study rooms are soundproofed anyway.”
“I’m the Head Girl now, not you,” Jacqui snapped. “How dare you undermine my authority?”
Emily clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from clenching. The urge to simply slap Jacqui was almost overpowering. She could challenge the other girl, if she wished. No one would object if she took Jacqui to the nearest spellchamber and hexed her into next week, although it genuinely would undermine Jacqui’s authority. Gordian probably wouldn’t be pleased, either. There would be repercussions ...
She took a breath, calming herself. “I’m not denying that you were within your rights to send them to the Warden,” she said. She felt a stab of sympathy for the younger students. They weren’t going to sit comfortably for a couple of days. “But it was a petty reason. They don’t deserve to be caned.”
Jacqui opened her mouth, but it was several moments before she spoke. “You failed,” she said, coldly. “And that is why so many of the younger students are running amok. You tried to be their friend, instead of their supervisor. I don’t need advice from you.”
“Very well.” Emily swallowed a number of cutting remarks. “Just don’t blame me when the whole thing explodes in your face.”
She walked past Jacqui and up the corridor, heading to the dorms. Jacqui sniffed behind her, but said nothing. Emily was privately relieved. She had no idea what would happen if Jacqui decided to go running to Gordian to complain, but she doubted Jacqui would. Gordian wouldn’t be pleased if Jacqui failed too, all the more so as she was probably his choice for Head Girl. If any of the tutors had supported Jacqui, Emily wouldn’t have been nominated with such a high majority.
And if she’d been Head Girl from the start, Emily thought as she entered the dorms, I might have had more time to spend with Frieda.
She stopped outside Melissa’s room and hesitated. She’d had a thought, but she knew she should run it past Melissa first. And yet ... she lifted her hand slowly and tapped on the door, ready to yank it back in an instant if a hex snapped at her. Melissa had every incentive to ward her room thoroughly, now her great-grandmother had made a very unwelcome reappearance. Fulvia had plenty of allies who might try to humiliate Melissa just to please the Ashworth Matriarch.
The door opened, slowly. Melissa lay on her bed, studying a parchment. A chat parchment, Emily realized dully. She’d been exchanging notes with her husband. Emily felt her cheeks heat as she stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Melissa’s room had clearly been designed for a married couple: an oversized bed, a large table and an even larger bathroom. Emily felt a stab of envy, mingled with concern. No wonder Markus came to see her as often as possible.
“Emily.” Melissa sat upright, putting the chat parchment to one side as she motioned to a chair. “What can I do for you?”
Emily hesitated before taking the proffered seat. Melissa ... had been an enemy, then an acquaintance and then ... it was odd to realize that she knew Melissa better, in so many ways, then she knew her closest friends. The memories were fading, slowly, but there were still times when moments from Melissa’s life would surface in Emily’s mind. She wondered, absently, if Melissa had told Markus that she’d let Emily read her mind. Emily didn’t think Markus would be pleased if he found out.
“I need to ask for a favor,” she said, slowly. “Can I ask Markus to be one of my jurors?”
Melissa made no pretense at being surprised by the question. “A valid choice,” she said, after a moment. “And one who will not be swayed by Fulvia.”
Emily nodded. Markus had known Frieda as a firstie, at Mountaintop, but he had never really been friends with her. How could they have been? The lines between a very young student and one in his final year had been impassable, certainly when there was no blood relationship. And yet, Markus had met Frieda in Beneficence. Emily thought he liked her.
And besides, he owes me a favor, Emily thought. It’s time to call it in.
She met Melissa’s eyes. “Will it bother you, if I do?”
“There is nothing I can do that would redeem me in Fulvia’s eyes,” Melissa said. Her voice was flat, but her eyes sparkled with amusement. “Even brutally murdering you would probably not earn me any plaudits. I smashed one of her plans, after all.”
“I know,” Emily said. “Can I ask?”
“You can,” Melissa said. “He’d probably be happy to serve, just to poke Fulvia in the eye.”
Emily nodded, stiffly. “And would you be prepared to testify?”
“About Daze?” Melissa shuddered. “I’d be happy to tell them what I know, but I don’t know if Daze was still in Fulvia’s employ when he died.”
“At least there’d be a link between them,” Emily argued.
“There was a link between you and King Randor,” Melissa pointed out. “Are you still his liegewoman?”
“No,” Emily conceded. That was a valid point. Randor - and Alassa - might have fudged things a little, but Emily had no intention of returning to Cockatrice. Imaiqah might as well act as the Baroness for the rest of her life, if she wished. “I take your point.”
Melissa nodded. “Contact Markus,” she said. “Who else do you want to put forward?”
“Zed, if he will serve,” Emily said. “I’m not sure about the third, yet.”
“Jade is probably the best choice,” Melissa said. “At least, if you’re looking for someone who has no ties to Fulvia.”
“Alassa won’t thank me for taking him away,” Emily said. Alassa had written that she might be pregnant, although she had suffered a series of phantom pregnancies that had made her reluctant to count on anything. “And he won’t thank me either.”
“He’s a trained sorcerer who owes you a great deal,” Melissa said. “And he has no ties to Fulvia. And she would have problems bringing pressure to bear on him. His power and place isn’t dependent on her.”
“True,” Emily said. Alassa really wouldn’t thank her. But Emily knew her friend would understand. “If I ask him, he would come.”
“Make sure you send the letters out now,” Melissa warned. “You can’t trade jurors once the inquest is officially opened.”
“I will.” Emily sighed. “Did you hear anything new about her?”
Melissa didn’t have to ask which her Emily meant. “Nothing,” she said. “I’m hoping there will be a few people who talk to me, but ... nothing. I’d suggest trying to open communications with Adana’s father, if you can. My grandfather was Fulvia’s puppet, back when I was still part of the family. It’s hard to imagine that might have changed.”
She smiled. “And if you can get Markus to stay here for a couple of weeks, I dare say someone else will come out of the woodwork,” she added. “There were always stories of Ashfall spies amongst the Ashworths.”
Emily smiled back. “Is that your only motive?”
Melissa blushed. Emily blushed too as the memories resurfaced, so strong and vivid that it was hard to believe they weren’t hers. She told herself, firmly, that they were nothing to do with her. She hadn’t done that, not even with Caleb. She’d certainly never so much as kissed Markus.
This could get embarrassing when I meet him again, she thought, wryly. Wil
l I try to kiss him?
No, she told herself, firmly. None of those memories happened to me.
“I’ll write the letters today,” Emily said. She could contact Jade at once through the chat parchment, although he might prefer a formal letter. If nothing else, he could say no at once, before she went to the trouble of actually writing. Her wrists would thank him even if the rest of her fretted over finding a replacement. “And thank you.”
“I’ll urge him to come,” Melissa said. “And I’m sure he’ll be pleased to see you again.”
Emily shrugged. She wasn’t so sure. If Markus knew Melissa had let Emily read her mind ... she sighed, inwardly. They’d been intimate, their souls touching, on a level that few married couples could match. Markus wouldn’t find it a very comfortable thought at all. Emily didn’t really blame him. She didn’t find it comfortable either.
“We’ll see,” she said. “I will be dragging him away from the bank for a while.”
“I think he needs a holiday,” Melissa said. “We’ve been talking about going away for a couple of weeks, after the exams. I’ll need a break by then.”
“Good thought,” Emily said. She felt a sudden flicker of bitter regret. She and Caleb had planned a getaway too, one that had come to nothing. The thought of just being alone together for a couple of weeks ... of course, it might also have ended badly. It wasn’t as if they’d ever tried to live together. “Will you take up an apprenticeship?”
“Assuming I pass the exams, I’ll have no choice,” Melissa said. “Even Fulvia won’t be able to stand in my way.”
Emily nodded. Healers were in short supply. No trained healer would pass up the chance to take and train a new apprentice, no matter how many enemies she had. And after Melissa qualified, she wouldn’t be able to play political games anyway. Healers were supposed to remain neutral on pain of death.
Emily smiled. “I’ll write to him. And thank you.”
“Just watch your back,” Melissa advised. “Fulvia will not hesitate to do everything in her power to win.”
Emily nodded and stepped out of the room. Loud voices echoed down the corridor, coming from the common room. Jacqui was arguing with someone ... who? The other voice sounded masculine, but she didn’t recognize it. She was tempted to go look, yet ... she didn’t really want to know. Instead, she turned and walked down the corridor to her room. The wards felt odd to the touch, warning her that someone had tried to break into the room. It didn’t feel as if they’d had much luck.
Unless they rebuilt the wards afterwards, Emily thought. She paused, considering the possibilities. Someone from a lower year probably wouldn’t have dared to walk down the corridor and loiter long enough to unpick the wards, knowing they’d have no excuse if one of the older students saw them. Lady Barb? Or Jacqui?
She undid the wards slowly, testing and retesting every link. They felt right, although she feared a skilful wardcrafter could reproduce her work. But duplicating her signature - and the handful of telltales she’d worked into the wards - was pretty close to impossible. She undid the last of the protections, then opened the door and peered inside. No hex snapped out at her, trying to catch her by surprise. The room looked utterly untouched.
Emily braced herself, then inched inside. Nothing appeared to be out of place, as far as she could tell. And yet, she felt uneasy. Someone could easily have slipped into the room, if they managed to part the wards, and leave a surprise for her under the pillows or in the bathroom. She closed the door, carefully, then inspected the entire room. There didn’t seem to be anything wrong.
Maybe I’m just imagining it, she thought, sourly. Or maybe whoever tried to fiddle with the wards didn’t manage to unlock them at all.
She sat down at her desk and reached for the writing pad. Zed hadn’t replied to the first message she’d sent him, something she hoped wasn’t ominous. But then, there was no such thing as an instant response in the Nameless World. There was no Internet, not even a telephone network. It would be years before inventors managed to get even a very basic phone network up and running. She had a feeling it would be quicker to devise a set of chat parchments that didn’t rely on blood to work.
And it’ll be a very short path from that to chat parchment spam, she thought, as she started to draft the letter. Sienna might want a look at the letter before it was sent, but Emily had to write it. And then someone will invent ad-blocking spells too ...
She pushed the thought aside as she finished the letter, then reached for her chat parchment and wrote out a brief note for Jade and Alassa. She felt a pang of guilt as she sent the message, knowing just how hard it would be for Jade to leave Alassa. Whatever was brewing in Zangaria, the Crown Princess was right in the middle of it. The last thing Alassa needed was to be left alone. She was surrounded by maids and manservants, but none of them were truly trustworthy. Alassa had little true privacy. Her father’s eyes were everywhere.
And yet, there was no way Alassa could accompany Jade to Whitehall.
I’m sorry, Emily thought. She felt a stab of guilt. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.
She reached for one of the legal tomes she’d borrowed from the library and started to skim through the inquest procedure. It was a trial, in all but name. Nine jurors ... Emily supposed she should count herself lucky that Gordian had adopted a deliberate hands-off approach. He could have appointed himself the judge, then bargained with her for Frieda’s life. And yet, the textbook made it clear that abusing his authority would have undermined his position beyond repair. It would have cost him quite badly.
But it would have cost me too, she told herself. Gordian would have been able to demand whatever he wanted, including control over the wards. And she would have no choice but to give it to him. And yet ... she smiled, grimly, as a thought occurred to her. It wouldn’t have satisfied the Ashworths either.
She read through the rest of the details, carefully. If the details were fairly clear, the neutral jurors would support the side with the better case; if the details were murky, the jurors would be courted by both sides. She wondered, grimly, just who’d take the neutral seats. If she knew one or two of them, she might be able to talk them into supporting her. Or even offering to bargain.
I do have something to offer, she thought. She had quite a bit to offer, if she sat down and worked out what she could trade. And I might be able to use it too.
The chat parchment glowed. Emily felt a lump in her throat as she reached out and picked it up. Jade had agreed to come, without hesitation. And Alassa had agreed. Emily cursed herself silently as she read the stream of messages. Alassa understood that Frieda - that Emily - needed help. Frieda was her friend too. But it didn’t make Emily feel any better about taking Jade away from her for a few weeks.
He’ll be able to go back and forth, she thought, as she wrote out a reply. He can teleport, can’t he?
She sighed, unable to banish the guilt. It wouldn’t be that easy. Jade could teleport, but doing it repeatedly would leave him drained. He wouldn’t be able to spend time with her after he got back home. He’d just want to fall into bed and sleep. Alassa was going to hate her by the time the inquest was over.
It has to be done, she told herself. There aren’t many candidates who can’t be pressured by Fulvia.
But she still felt as though she’d done something wrong.
Chapter Thirteen
“LET ME HANDLE THE TELEPORT,” LADY Barb said, as they stepped outside and walked to the edge of the school’s wards. “I want to see how your wards react to me.”
Emily nodded, curtly. It had rained heavily in the night, turning the lawn into a muddy swamp. Mist drifted over the mountains, raindrops hanging in the air as the sun battled to burn through the white haze. It was the sort of morning that made her want to curl up in bed with a mug of hot chocolate and a good book, not go out walking. But Lady Barb hadn’t given her much of a choice.
She followed the older woman, feeling her boots squishing into the mud. Cirroc had
been talking about holding the next set of dueling club sessions outside, where the duelists had more room to maneuver. She hoped it warmed up before the rest of the students got out of bed or they were going to be disappointed, although she could see some advantages to having the duels on a foggy morning. The students wouldn’t always be fighting in perfect conditions.
“The wards seem to have changed,” Lady Barb observed, as they reached the edge of the grounds. “What happened to them?”
“Gordian has been making changes,” Emily said. It was true enough, she knew, even though it left out all the interesting parts. But then, Gordian was the only person who knew she’d fallen back in time. She wished she knew precisely what he was doing with the wards - and why - but she had no time to work on it. “Can we still teleport from here?”
“We should be able to,” Lady Barb said. She took Emily’s arm. “Ready?”
Emily looked back at Whitehall, half-hidden in the mist. She was reluctant to leave, even though Lady Barb and Sienna had assured her that no harm would come to Frieda until the inquest pronounced its judgement. Fulvia wouldn’t risk compromising Whitehall’s neutrality, they’d insisted. Emily wasn’t so sure - she knew from Melissa just how ruthless Fulvia could be - but Emily couldn’t stay with Frieda every moment of the day, not when she was supposed to be in classes ...
“Yeah,” she said. “Let’s go.”
She closed her eyes as she felt the magic build up, followed by a wrenching sensation that left her feeling as though she was on the verge of throwing up. Her chest hurt, as if she’d been punched hard. She opened her eyes and frowned, blinking in surprise as she realized they’d materialized inside her front gates. Lady Barb was not going to be pleased. The wards should have redirected them outside the gates.
“Not good,” Lady Barb said, sharply. “Did you let them weaken since we left?”
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