Graduation Day (Schooled in Magic Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  Except if they have magic, she reminded herself. And even then, their families can have a say.

  Cat took her arm as they walked along the edge of the park. The darkness seemed both familiar - almost friendly - and sinister. Emily kept a wary eye out for footpads, although she knew it was unlikely they’d be attacked. Dragon’s Den depended on Whitehall for much of its economic livelihood. The City Council would spare no effort to find anyone who robbed or raped a student, assuming the miscreant survived. No one would think twice if a student killed a man who’d been trying to rob her.

  “It’s nearly eleven,” Cat said, looking up. The stars twinkled in the dark sky. “Are you ready to go back?”

  Emily turned to face him, suddenly unsure again. Did he want to kiss her? Should she let him? Did she want him to kiss her? Her feelings were a jumbled mess. She honestly wasn’t sure what she wanted. She liked Cat - and she’d enjoyed their dinner - but he wasn’t safe. It would be easy to pull back, yet ... she wasn’t sure she wanted to pull back.

  Cat pulled her into a gentle hug, then kissed her cheek lightly. Emily’s heart start to pound, reminding her that she could kiss his lips ... she wanted to kiss him, she didn’t want to kiss him ... he was so close to her, his strong arms holding her. He smelled nice, cleaner than many of the other students. She felt wonderful and she felt trapped and she wanted ... she didn’t know what she wanted. Her skin tingled with anticipation, yet she knew those feelings were dangerous. And yet ... she started to turn her head. A kiss wouldn’t hurt ...

  A voice exploded into her head, blasting down the link she shared with Melissa. Emily’s legs buckled under the force of the impact. The world blurred, as if it was withdrawing from her. If Cat hadn’t been holding her, she would have collapsed. She was vaguely aware of Cat saying something, but she could barely hear him. He was on the outside of her mind. He wasn’t important. Melissa’s voice was everywhere ...

  EMILY, Melissa said. Or shouted. The words throbbed in Emily’s mind, each one blazing with deadly fire. It felt like an attack, even though she knew it was nothing of the kind. GET BACK TO WHITEHALL AT ONCE. FRIEDA JUST TRIED TO KILL HERSELF!

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “EMILY,” CAT SAID. SOMEONE WAS SHAKING her. Someone ... her head was a blurred mess. She wasn’t sure of anything, even her own name. “Emily, what’s happening?”

  Emily snapped out of the trance. Cat was holding her arms, his eyes wide with shock. Emily stared at him in disbelief, confused why he hadn’t heard the voice. Melissa had been so loud, but ... but she’d been inside Emily’s head. All Cat had seen was her nearly fainting in his arms. He didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on.

  “We need to get back to Whitehall,” Emily said. She felt her legs start to tremble and forced them to straighten, biting her lip to give her a sensation to focus on. Her thoughts were spinning. “Can you teleport us back, now?”

  Cat held her arm. “Are you sure you’re up to it? We could get a coach and horses ...”

  “Frieda is in trouble,” Emily said. “We have to get back.”

  She braced herself, going down on her knees and closing her eyes as Cat wrapped his arms around her. A moment later, the world lurched violently. Raw magic cascaded around her, tearing into her mind. She whimpered as white-hot spears of fire stabbed into the very core of her being, then snapped out of existence as quickly as they’d materialized. It was hard, so hard, to focus. She had to struggle to open her eyes and stand upright as soon as they arrived.

  All my defenses are down, she thought. It was so dark she wasn’t sure if her eyes were actually open. She had to turn to see the school, glowing against the darkness. The Craggy Mountains were lost in the night. I need to repair them.

  Cat held her arm as they stumbled through the wards and headed for the main entrance. There didn’t seem to be anyone in view, but that was meaningless ... Emily pushed the thought out of her mind, concentrating on getting through the doors and up the stairs. She was a Sixth Year, after all. She could stay out as late as she wished, as long as she was careful not to disturb anyone when she returned to the school. And if she overslept in the morning, it would be her own stupid fault. She glanced around, half-expecting Jacqui or someone to pop out of the shadows as they reached the top of the stairs, but the corridor was empty. The infirmary was bare seconds away.

  She burst through the infirmary door, trying to prepare herself for an argument. If the healers wanted to keep her from Frieda ... Melissa was standing outside Frieda’s door, looking tired. Blood stained her white robes ... Emily shuddered. Melissa wouldn’t be able to go to bed as soon as she was dismissed, no matter how much she wanted to sleep. She’d have to deal with the blood first or risk being killed by her own magic. Her oaths demanded as much.

  Melissa’s eyes went wide when she saw them. “Emily, what happened to you?”

  “You shouted very loudly,” Emily said, dryly. She caught sight of herself in the mirror and winced. Her face was so pale she could have passed for a vampire. “What happened?”

  “She managed to cut her wrists,” Melissa said. “It’s sheer damn luck she cut across, rather than up, or she would have bled to death before we managed to staunch the bleeding. She used an anticoagulant charm, by all the gods! I don’t even know how she got the knife.”

  Magic, Emily thought. It wasn’t as if Frieda couldn’t have transfigured a wooden spoon into a sharp knife, even though the infirmary wards were supposed to prevent it. Sergeant Miles had taught her a number of spells that most Fourth Years didn’t learn. But even using one of those spells should have set off alarms.

  She took a deep breath. “I want to see her,” she said, flatly. “Now.”

  Melissa opened her mouth. Emily glared at her.

  “I want to see her,” she repeated, allowing magic to leak out from behind her wards. She heard Cat suck in his breath behind her. “Now.”

  “You have to be very careful,” Melissa said. “And be quiet.”

  Emily saw fear in Melissa’s eyes and cursed herself. Melissa didn’t deserve to be intimidated, not like this. Emily promised herself, silently, that she’d make it up to Melissa when she had a chance. She felt a stab of shame as she headed for the door. Cat had now seen her at her very worst.

  She turned. “I’m sorry about the way this evening ended,” she said, unable to meet his eyes. “I’ll see you soon, all right?”

  “We can go out again soon,” Cat said.

  He sounded understanding, Emily thought as she turned back to the door. She didn’t want understanding, not now. She wanted ... she shook her head, cursing herself again. It had been a lovely evening until ... she pushed that thought aside as she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. Cat could go back to his room and get some sleep. She just hoped she hadn’t convinced him to vote against her ...

  The room was dim. Emily started to cast a night vision spell, then stopped herself as her eyes began to adapt to the gloom. Frieda lay on the bed, naked. Bandages were wrapped around her wrists, bigger and bulkier than Emily had expected. Frieda had cast a powerful anticoagulant charm, then. Emily shuddered in horror as she realized that Frieda had been forced into a healing trance. Her eyes were open, but staring at nothing. She probably wasn’t even remotely aware of her surroundings.

  Emily took a step forward. Liquid - blood - lay on the floor, seemingly more than could come from a single body. Madame Kyla stood on the far side of the bed, chanting a spell as she worked on Frieda’s older wounds. Emily allowed her eyes to traverse Frieda’s body, picking out scars old and new. Frieda had been though absolute hell, even before Daze had started to meddle with her mind. And some of the scars, by tradition, had to be left to heal with only the bare minimum of medical attention.

  Fuck tradition, Emily thought. She doesn’t deserve to carry those scars.

  “Stay where you are,” Madame Kyla said, sharply. “I told Melissa to make you wait outside.”

  Emily felt another stab of g
uilt. “I forced my way inside,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  “So you should be,” Madame Kyla said. Her eyes were accusing. “Do you have any idea what you could have interrupted?”

  Emily nodded, wordlessly.

  “Report to the Warden, tomorrow morning,” Madame Kyla said. She pointed a finger at the armchair. “Sit. And don’t touch anything.”

  “I’m sorry,” Emily said, again. She sat down. “It wasn’t Melissa’s fault.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Madame Kyla said. She finished casting a spell and walked around the bed, picking up a wand from the table. “We expect a certain degree of maturity from students your age, Emily. And yet we are always disappointed.”

  She waved the wand in the air. Emily watched, numbly, as the blood floated off the floor and into a charmed container. Madame Kyla would dispose of it, she knew, after making sure it was no longer connected to Frieda. And then ... she shook her head, ruefully. She deserved to get into trouble after bursting into the room. Madame Kyla had every reason to be annoyed.

  “I think she’s out of danger,” Madame Kyla said. She still sounded angry, but - this time - she didn’t sound angry at Emily. “I shall have a few words with Miles about teaching dangerous spells to students. She got a knife ...”

  Emily sucked in her breath. “What happened?”

  “She transfigured something into a knife, then slit both her wrists,” Madame Kyla said, curtly. “And she cast a modified charm that interfered with the wards ... I’m still not sure why that happened. Suffice it to say that she’d already lost a great deal of blood by the time the alarms went off. My first attempts to heal her wrists proved futile, as she’d already ensured that basic healing charms wouldn’t take. I had to bandage the cuts before I could seal them. By then ...”

  “She’ll live,” Emily said. “Won’t she?”

  Madame Kyla looked as if she’d bitten into a lemon. “Yes, she will. Barely. I dosed her on blood-replenishing potions, but she’s going to have a very rough time for the next couple of days. Once the charms she used wear off, we can heal the remaining physical damage, but the long-term mental effects will be bad.”

  Emily nodded, slowly. There were places in the Nameless World where attempting to commit suicide carried the death penalty. She’d thought it was a joke, when she’d first heard it, but suicide was considered proof of mental instability. And mental instability ... she cursed the chirurgeons in the Nameless World under her breath. Frieda’s reputation might never recover if this got out.

  She sighed. “How many people know?”

  Madame Kyla shrugged. “Apart from myself and Melissa? You and the Grandmaster. I don’t know if he’ll feel obligated to mention it during the inquest, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  And if it does get out, Emily thought, Fulvia will use it as proof that Frieda is mentally unstable. Even if she can’t convince the inquest to find Frieda guilty, she can push for them to commit her to the Halfway House.

  She looked at Madame Kyla. “She was programmed to attempt to commit suicide after Daze’s death,” Emily said, slowly. “Might there have been a second suicide command in there?”

  “I don’t think so,” Madame Kyla said. “Samra did evaluate the interior of Frieda’s mind pretty thoroughly. But you know as well as I do just how chancy soul magic can be.”

  She tapped Frieda’s forehead. Frieda’s sightless eyes closed. Emily shivered. She’d never liked being forced into trances, even if they did speed the healing process. And while Frieda might heal physically, it would be a long time before she healed mentally.

  “I’ll be leaving her in the trance for the rest of the night,” Madame Kyla said, as she covered Frieda with a blanket. “Stay with her, if you want. I’ll inform the Grandmaster.”

  “Thank you.” Emily swallowed, hard. “It wasn’t Melissa’s fault, really.”

  Madame Kyla scowled. “I’ll take that into account, Emily,” she said. Her voice was very cold. “But she did fail in her duties. And that isn’t something a healer can allow.”

  She turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Emily settled back into the chair, wishing she dared open the link long enough to apologize. Melissa was in trouble - and it was all Emily’s fault. She wondered, grimly, if there was anything she could do to make up for it. If Melissa got kicked out of healer training, she’d have nowhere to go ...

  And it would be my fault, Emily thought. Another stab of guilt assailed her. I was too impatient to wait.

  She looked at Frieda, feeling her heart twist in her chest. The rise and fall of Frieda’s breasts was the only sign she was alive. Even her breathing was so quiet as to be barely audible in the silent room. She looked smaller than ever, as if she was being diminished by an outside force. Emily had to fight to resist the temptation to scan for a threat, for something gnawing away at her friend. There was nothing, but ... she wanted to believe there was something she could fight, something that could be driven away ...

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. The inquest was hardly her chosen battleground. And Sienna had warned her that the inquest itself was there to provide a gloss of legality to whatever deals were made behind the scenes. “I don’t know what to do.”

  She closed her eyes, just for a moment. And then something touched her arm. Her eyes flew open.

  “Breakfast,” Madame Kyla said. She passed Emily a tray of scrambled eggs, toast and sweet green tea. “You need to keep up your strength.”

  Emily blinked at the healer, then at the tray. “I fell asleep?”

  “You were snoring like a ... very loud snorer,” Madame Kyla said, dryly. The healer tapped the tray, meaningfully. “You’re lucky there are silencing wards around the room or the rest of the patients would have stormed the chamber and hexed you into silence.”

  Emily sat upright and took the tray. The dress she’d worn for the date felt crumpled and her skin felt dirty, reminding her that she hadn’t showered for hours. She’d slept in her dress ... she hadn’t slept in her clothes since she’d been in Farrakhan, when there had been an army of orcs outside the walls. Her hair felt as if she hadn’t washed it for weeks. She glanced at the clock, then sat upright and began to eat. The food was basic, but she was ravenous. Madame Kyla walked around Frieda’s bed, casting a series of spells. She didn’t look alarmed by anything she saw.

  “I’m going to wake her for a few minutes,” Madame Kyla said, as Emily finished her food and put the tray aside. “She’ll probably be a little bit disoriented as I bring her out of the trance. Stay quiet, unless she registers your presence. If she does, talk gently to her. Do not attempt to rebuke her.”

  “I understand,” Emily said. Part of her wanted to shout at Frieda for trying to kill herself, but she knew it would be futile. Worse than futile. She’d have to tease the explanation out of her friend, if she ever had one at all. Perhaps Daze had done more damage than anyone had realized. “I’ll be ready.”

  She stood and watched, grimly, as Madame Kyla tapped Frieda’s forehead. The younger girl jerked, her arms twitching as if she wasn’t in full control of her muscles. Emily’s eyes narrowed as it occurred to her that Madame Kyla might have suppressed Frieda’s muscular control as well as her awareness. She could see the point, if she was right, but ... it was a step too close to outright mind control. An unscrupulous magician like Daze could turn someone into a puppet and use them as he willed. Lady Barb had told her about everything from sex slaves to hypnotized princesses.

  But it might be the only thing keeping Frieda from hurting herself again, Emily thought. The thought made her feel disloyal, even though cold logic told her they had no choice. We can’t be sure she won’t try again.

  Frieda’s eyes snapped open. For a chilling moment they seemed utterly lifeless, then they started to move. Frieda’s mouth opened, emitting a keening sound as she jerked again, her arms and legs flailing randomly. A foot kicked Madame Kyla, but the healer didn’t seem to care. Emily knew she knew it was an a
ccident. Frieda was hardly in full control of herself.

  “I ...” Frieda coughed, loudly. “I ...”

  “Sit up, gently,” Madame Kyla said. Her voice was soft and reassuring. It was hard not to admire her calm. “What is your name?”

  Frieda gasped, again. Madame Kyla helped her to sit upright, holding a basin at the ready in case Frieda needed to be sick. Emily looked away as she heard the sound of retching, but the basin was empty when she looked back. Dry retching, then. She had no idea how much Frieda had actually ingested beyond various healing potions.

  “I ... my name is Frieda,” Frieda managed. “Frieda ... Daughter of ... of No One.”

  Emily leaned forward as Madame Kyla asked a number of gentle questions, trying to determine just how much Frieda actually remembered. Frieda seemed confused; she rattled off some answers automatically, but had to struggle with simple arithmetic. Emily had no idea if that was a good thing or not. The last time she’d been in a healing trance, she’d had great difficulty remembering her own name. Frieda was doing better than that.

  “Emily,” Frieda managed. Her eyes suddenly focused on Emily, but her face twisted as if she were staring into a blinding light. “Emily ... is that you?”

  “I’m here,” Emily said, as reassuringly as she could. She hoped she sounded calm. Her throat felt uncomfortably dry. “It’s going to be all right.”

  “No, it’s not,” Frieda said. Her body quivered, violently. “I’m going to be thrown out of the school. They’re going to find me guilty and throw me out of the school and kill me and ...”

  Emily’s eyes narrowed. What?

  “There’s no reason to fret,” Madame Kyla said, soothingly. “Take a deep breath and calm yourself.”

  Frieda shuddered and retched, again. “I’m going to die,” she said. She sounded as though she was on the edge of a panic attack. “She told me I’m going to die.”