“No.” Adana shot Emily a hopeful look. “Can I go now?”
Emily eyed her. “I may ask you for something else, later,” she said. A thought struck her. “Does your father have a chat parchment?”
“Not that I know about,” Adana said. “It’s blood magic, isn’t it? The Matriarch was very much against them.”
“Then I will definitely ask you for something else.” Emily nodded to the door, tiredly. “You may go.”
Adana stood and practically ran to the door, as if she expected Emily to call her back before she could make her escape. Emily didn’t blame her. Formal etiquette dictated that Adana was obliged to repay the favor she owed Emily with something of equal or greater value. Answering a few questions wasn’t anything like enough and Adana knew it, but anything more might bring her into conflict with Fulvia. And there was nothing Emily could offer the younger girl that would make the risk tolerable.
Emily sat for a long moment, trying to gather herself. Adana had told her nothing of use. She’d already known that Fulvia was staying in Whitehall, occupying a set of heavily-warded chambers. Emily thought she could use the school’s wards to break through Fulvia’s protections, but there would be no hope of hiding her involvement. Gordian would know what had happened, even if Fulvia didn’t. God alone knew what would happen then.
She ran her hand through her long hair, considering her options. She didn’t want to leave Whitehall, but she could. The option was on the table. And if she did ... she looked around the tiny room, silently noting the portraits hanging from the walls. It would be better to leave than be kicked out, all the more so as she couldn’t be kicked out. Gordian might be able to hamper her control over the wards, but he couldn’t lock her out completely.
I hope, she thought. Gordian had been up to something below Whitehall. She had no doubt that he’d put the most capable charms masters and wardcrafters to work studying the school’s wards, figuring out how to change them. Given time, he probably could lock her out completely. All he really has to do is convince the wards that I’m my own descendent.
The door swung open. Jacqui stood there, looking angry.
“Someone tried to break into my office,” she said, glowering around the tiny room. “Is someone hiding here?”
“There’s a man hiding under the desk,” Emily lied. “Why don’t you chase him out?”
Jacqui glared at her, then performed a quick spell. It flickered through the room, then snapped out of existence. Emily felt a flicker of rueful admiration. The spell wasn’t powerful enough to overwhelm even a basic concealment spell, but it should be capable of detecting an invisible person. Not that it mattered. She’d been alone until Jacqui burst into the study.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Jacqui snapped. “Where are your books?”
Ouch, Emily thought, ruefully. Well spotted.
She rose, slowly. She’d been sitting on the table when Jacqui had burst into the room, but that didn’t prove she’d been up to no good. And yet, the absence of books and notepads suggested she was up to something ... if Jacqui felt suspicious. She clearly did feel suspicious. Someone had tried to break into her room, after all.
“I was meditating,” she said, firmly. “Professor Thande was not pleased.”
Jacqui smirked. “Are you going to be joining us for Alchemy tomorrow?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “And I’ll be there for the rest of the year.”
“After nearly getting us all killed,” Jacqui said. Her voice hardened. “Are you actually being punished at all?”
“Yes,” Emily said. “And the details are none of your business.”
“Yes, they are,” Jacqui said. “What is going to happen to you?”
“Ask Professor Thande,” Emily snapped. She walked forward, silently daring Jacqui to try to stop her. “I’m going to my room.”
Jacqui stepped into her path. “You’ll also be patrolling the school tonight. And the rest of the week.”
Emily resisted the urge to reach for her magic and just knock Jacqui out of her way. “I’m not going to have time,” she said. “I’ll be working all evening on the defense ...”
“Which is pointless,” Jacqui said. “Your ... friend ... stands condemned already.”
Emily’s magic surged. “Get out of my way.”
Jacqui’s eyes widened. Emily saw fear on her face, an instant before she concealed it. And yet, she stumbled backwards. Her hands rose slowly, but they were shaking too badly to cast spells. Emily realized, dully, that she’d overdone it ...
“You can’t threaten the Head Girl,” Jacqui protested. Her voice shook. “Emily ...”
Emily stepped forward, feeling her magic billowing around her. Jacqui stepped to one side, hastily. Emily felt a twinge of guilt, mingled with satisfaction. Jacqui wouldn’t go whining to Gordian - or anyone else - about Emily pushing her aside. She’d lose her post if she couldn’t handle her fellow students.
Cirroc would have put up a fight, Emily thought, as she strode through the door and down the corridor, careful not to look back. And some of the others would have done the same.
She walked back to her room, feeling unsure of herself. Should she feel guilty? Or should she be pleased that she’d put Jacqui in her place? Or ... should she wonder if Jacqui had held back? Most sorcerers tried to conceal their full powers ... she shook her head, dismissing the thought as unlikely. Jacqui had nothing to gain by letting Emily brush her aside. The damage to her reputation would be considerable.
If someone knew about it, Emily reminded herself. There were no witnesses.
Another letter was waiting for her in the mailbox when she entered the dorms. She took it and walked down the corridor, careful not to open it until she was safely in her room. It was a formal note from Gordian, informing her that the inquest would begin on Saturday. Emily put it on the desk and sat down, trying to calm herself. At least it wasn’t an equally formal letter telling her that she was no longer welcome in Alchemy.
And Gordian is right, she thought. My marks are slipping.
It wasn’t something she wanted to think about. She’d gone into the year confident that she would qualify to take the exams, then pass them well enough to ensure no one questioned her right to an apprenticeship. Now ... she knew her marks were slipping, to the point where it was possible she wouldn’t be allowed to take the exams. And if that happened ...
There was a sharp tap on the door. Emily felt her heart sink. Only a handful of people knocked like that - and only one of them would come to see her. “Open.”
The door opened. Lady Barb stepped into the room. She’d exchanged her armor for formal robes - midnight blue, with stars decorating her shoulder blades - but she still looked formidable. Emily groaned, inwardly. Gordian had probably told Lady Barb everything. It had been a long time since Lady Barb had been her Advisor - she’d never bothered to request another once since the older woman had left teaching - but she still respected her opinion.
“So tell me,” Lady Barb said. “What happened? And why?”
Emily sighed. “I got careless,” she said, dully. “And I made a mistake.”
“A pretty drastic mistake,” Lady Barb said. “This isn’t a one-off, is it?”
“No,” Emily admitted. “I keep thinking about Frieda and ... and I get distracted.”
“Not a wise thing to do when you’re supposed to be concentrating on magic,” Lady Barb told her, bluntly. “You’re lucky Professor Thande likes you.”
“I don’t think he likes me any longer,” Emily said. She liked Professor Thande, even though she sometimes thought of him as an overgrown man-child playing with dynamite and lit matches. “I could have gotten a lot of people killed.”
“Yes, you could have,” Lady Barb said. “But if you’d done something like that in my class, you would have been thrown out so hard you would have smashed into the door.”
Emily looked down. “I know.”
She forced herself to concentrate. “Should I just le
ave? Take Void up on his offer and go?”
Lady Barb’s face tightened, as it always did when Void was mentioned. “If you were in my charge, I would advise you to complete your exams first,” she said. “And while I understand the attraction of moving straight into a formal apprenticeship, I would warn you to be very careful. The offer might have a sting in the tail.”
Emily looked up at her. “Because you don’t like him?”
“Because you can be ... naïve in many ways,” Lady Barb told her, sharply. “And someone could easily set out to take advantage of you.”
Emily swallowed. “I know.”
“Quite,” Lady Barb agreed. “Now, should we discuss ...”
There was another tap at the door, much less formal.
“Come,” Emily called.
The door opened. Caleb practically fell into the room. “Emily,” he said. “Did you ...”
He stopped, staring at Lady Barb. “I ...”
“Oh, don’t mind me.” Lady Barb sounded amused rather than annoyed, although the sidelong look she sent Emily promised a very serious discussion in the near future. “I’m just a guest.”
Caleb grinned. “Someone threw a tomato at Jacqui. It was glorious!”
“Oh,” Emily said. She covered her mouth. “Who?”
“No idea,” Caleb said. “It’s astonishing how many people went blind for a few seconds.”
“Noted,” Lady Barb said, coolly. “We’ll see you at dinner.”
Caleb glanced at Emily, then retreated.
Lady Barb waited until the door was closed before looking at Emily. “Are you and he getting back together?”
“No,” Emily said, quickly. “We’re just friends. I ... I just miss him, sometimes.”
Lady Barb pursed her lips. “If you were a bit older, I’d advise you to find someone sensible - and discreet. But as you’re not, I’ll merely warn you to be careful.”
She rose. “And we’ll discuss other matters later. Right now, concentrate on getting through the rest of the week.”
Chapter Twenty
IN A WAY, EMILY WAS ALMOST relieved when the weekend rolled around, even though it meant the inquest was about to begin. Jacqui had been on the warpath for the past four days, snapping and snarling at everyone unlucky enough to meet her eyes as she hunted for the mysterious tomato thrower. Cartoons had started to appear in unlikely places, heralding the thrower and making fun of Jacqui, while a handful of younger students had started throwing cream buns and custard pies. Some of them had been caught, but it didn’t seem to stop others from following in their footsteps. The detention classrooms had never been so full.
She followed Sienna into the studio, feeling her heartbeat starting to speed up as she surveyed the room. It looked like a courtroom out of a historical fantasy: an iron cage for the accused - thankfully empty - a throne-like chair for the judge, a jury box with nine seats, and a handful of smaller tables, each one holding a jug of water and two glasses. Fulvia sat at one of them, next to a man in grey robes. She didn’t look at Emily as Emily sat down next to Sienna. Her companion barely moved as the jurors filed into the room.
Emily tried to keep her face expressionless even as she recognized the jurors she knew. Jade wore a tunic rather than sorcerer’s robes or combat armor, making him look very different; Cat, next to him, seemed to be having great difficulty keeping himself from smiling. Markus looked as though he didn’t want to sit next to either of them, while Zed’s face was completely blank. His letters had made it clear that he’d serve as a juror, but he didn’t have time to stay in Whitehall. Emily wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not. All of the other jurors had been assigned rooms or suites in the castle.
Cat winked at her. Emily resisted the urge to wink back. He’d grown up a lot since she’d last seen him, since he’d completed his apprenticeship. His robes were artfully tailored to show off his muscles, but also to allow him to move freely. And he’d allowed his blond hair to grow out, just a little. Master Storm would probably not have approved, Emily thought, but she thought it made him look striking. The shaved head he’d sported the last time she’d seen him had been devastatingly intimidating.
She tried to look at the other jurors without making it obvious. Master Highland looked back at her, his dark daze calculating. Beside him, Master Grimhold looked bored. Emily wondered if he cared one jot about who won or lost the case. He was roughly the same age as Sienna, she decided; his bald head and face so smooth that he’d clearly had it healed several times after alchemical accidents. She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign either. Someone who wasn’t invested in the case might be less inclined to bow to Fulvia’s pressure.
Or mine, she thought, as she switched her gaze to Fulvia’s jurors. We need at least five votes on our side to win.
Andor looked like an older version of his son: pale skin, dark eyes, a thin-lipped smile that had made Melissa’s blood boil when she’d first laid eyes on him. He’d shaved his head in mourning, even though Gaius had technically been disowned. His eyes bored into Emily, daring her to challenge him. She looked back as evenly as she could. Gaius had been a traitor, someone willing to sell the Allied Lands to the necromancers. And he’d tried to kill her too. Beside him, Magister Snider looked strikingly self-important - he’d worn councillor’s robes, even though he was no longer in office - and Professor Wyle looked calculating. Emily made a mental note of that for later. Perhaps, just perhaps, there were ways to convince Wyle to change his vote.
And he looks old enough to be my granddad, she thought. Wyle could have passed for Professor Dumbledore on a bad day, right down to the beard that touched the floor. Perhaps I could make him feel sorry for Frieda.
She closed her eyes, concentrating on the mental link to Melissa. She’d asked Melissa to watch through her eyes, hoping that Melissa might have useful observations to share. The link widened, barely. She recoiled at the sensation of things crawling around on the inside of her skull, even though she knew it was imaginary. The sensation faded quickly, replaced by a faint tickling sensation at the back of her eyes. Melissa was watching ...
And probably picking up my stray thoughts too, Emily reminded herself. They’d experimented a little with the link, trying to learn how it worked. Melissa couldn’t get into her head without permission, but she could sometimes pick up on particularly loud thoughts and feelings. I have to be careful.
She looked at Markus. A confusing wave of sensations assailed her, just long enough to make her grit her teeth. Melissa’s feelings, not hers. And yet, they were strong enough to make it difficult for her to tell the difference. She sighed, inwardly, as she pushed them out of her head. Madame Samra had sworn the link wouldn’t last, not without constant reinforcement. But Emily couldn’t help wondering if their experiments had made it permanent.
Markus is not going to be pleased, she thought. Why should he be?
Gordian strode into the room, followed by a handful of guardians and observers. Everyone stood as he walked to his chair and sat down. He wasn’t really the judge, Emily reminded herself sharply. He didn’t get a vote, even if the jurors tied. His job was merely to ensure fair play. But it still felt as though he was standing in judgement. His gaze swept the room, lingering on Emily for a long moment. And then he tapped the chair, once.
“Be seated,” he ordered. “The inquest is now in session.”
There was a long pause as the doors closed, loudly. Emily rested her hands on her lap, trying to keep them from shaking. She understood magical duels and battles, even against necromancers, but this ...? This wasn’t her forte. She might have an airtight case - and Sienna had made it clear she didn’t - but someone with better people skills might be able to convince the jury to rule in their favor anyway. And Fulvia was good at manipulating people. She didn’t have to be in the right to convince the jury to support her. Emily had always disliked people like that.
“It has been decided that the Defendant is in no condition to take her place in the box,” G
ordian informed them. His voice brooked no argument. “However, the proceedings of the day will be communicated to her after the doors are opened.”
Which may not be good for her, Emily thought. She doesn’t need more worries.
“I must also remind you that we will proceed in line with the standard guidelines, as were shown to you two days ago,” Gordian added. “Deviances from these proceedings will not be tolerated.”
Emily nodded, slowly. She’d read the guidelines time and time again, then gone through them with Sienna. Gordian was doing his level best to ensure everyone would have a chance to speak, but she knew it wasn’t going to make things easier. The cross-examinations alone would be a nightmare. Indeed, Fulvia could call the proceedings into question simply by pointing out that Frieda hadn’t been cross-examined on the stand.
“We begin,” Gordian said. “The Prosecutor may now make her opening remarks.”
Fulvia stood. Her eyes remained fixed on the jury.
“It is a principle of our law that a household has the right to seek justice - and retribution - for harm done to one of its members,” she said. “As the Matriarch of House Ashworth, I must demand justice. Frieda of No House, Daughter of Huckeba, severely injured two of my family. I come before you to ask that she be handed over to me for judgement.”
She paused to allow her words to hit home, then went on. “It is beyond dispute that Frieda has a very checkered history. She was not raised in a community where she would have been taught to develop and control her powers. Instead, she was left in a mundane community until her powers finally developed, whereupon she was sent to Mountaintop and expelled the following year.”
Well, Emily thought. That explains why she raised no objection to Zed being on the jury.
She fought to keep her face impassive. She couldn’t call a juror as a witness, which meant there was no way she could place Frieda’s expulsion from Mountaintop in context. Unless ... Zed might explain to his fellow jurors, but she couldn’t ask him to do it. Perhaps she could simply find someone else from Mountaintop to testify on Frieda’s behalf.
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