Graduation Day (Schooled in Magic Book 14)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “He’s dead, now,” Markus said, quietly. “Let him go.”

  Emily nodded, although she didn’t blame Melissa for not finding it easy. Her grandfather had been a weak man, utterly dominated by his mother. Fulvia had used blood magics against her own son ... Emily shuddered, unable to comprehend how anyone could do that to their own flesh and blood. But then, people had been doing worse to family members since the dawn of time. Fulvia hadn’t cared - much - about what would happen to the Ashworths after her death. Melissa had been very lucky to escape.

  The family magics must have pushed her father into rebelling, Emily thought. But they weren’t enough to keep his grandmother from poisoning him.

  Melissa took a long breath. “I’ll write a formal renunciation of the charges against Frieda and forward them to Whitehall today,” she said, firmly. She looked at Frieda, dropping to one knee. “And if there is anything House Ashworth can do to make you whole, you have but to ask.”

  Emily met her eyes. “Will that hold true if you give up the matriarchy?”

  “Oh, yes,” Melissa said, with a certain savage amusement. “My successor wouldn’t want to do anything to call her own authority into question. I’ll see to it that the renunciation includes a full account of Fulvia’s deeds. There will be no room to reopen the inquest at a later date.”

  “Make sure you get Sienna to read it carefully,” Cat advised.

  Markus looked annoyed. “Hey!”

  “Melissa might not intend to leave a loophole,” Cat pointed out. “But someone older and wiser might find something they can use later.”

  “It will be hard to find anything that overrides the will of the serving matriarch,” Melissa said, tartly. “But I’ll make sure Markus reads it before I send it to you.”

  “Thank you,” Frieda said, quietly.

  Melissa looked at Emily. “Thank you,” she said. “If it wasn’t for you ...”

  Emily nodded. Whoever had tapped House Ashworth’s nexus point had done a good job, but their spellware hadn’t been anything like as complex as the spellware running through Whitehall or Heart’s Eye. Now ... Melissa had used Emily’s knowledge to ensure that House Ashworth’s nexus point developed along the same lines. It had saved the day - Fulvia hadn’t been able to retake control - but it would also have implications for the future. Melissa had sworn oaths to keep whatever she saw in Emily’s mind to herself, yet others were not so bound. Someone who studied House Ashworth’s nexus point might uncover the secrets for themselves.

  And Gordian had wardcrafters studying the nexus point under Whitehall, Emily reminded herself. One of the wardcrafters had worked for Fulvia, too. That secret may be out and spreading, no matter what I do.

  She reached out for the mental link, only to discover that it was gone. It wasn’t entirely a surprise, given how much power had roared down it during the mental combat, but it was frustrating. She couldn’t talk to Melissa without being overheard, not here. And she didn’t think she had time to wait for a chance to talk to her alone. She needed to get back to Whitehall ...

  “Please be careful with the nexus point spells,” she said, seriously. “They’re very dangerous.”

  “I’ll have to show others how to handle them,” Melissa said. “But I’ll swear them to limited secrecy first.”

  Emily raised her eyebrows. “Limited secrecy?”

  “They’ll have to tell their successors,” Melissa said. “But no one who hasn’t been sworn to secrecy - limited secrecy - first.”

  “It’ll have to do,” Emily said. She looked around the empty chamber. “Will you be coming back to Whitehall?”

  “I don’t know,” Melissa said. She waved a hand at the dais. “On one hand, no one will be entirely comfortable with such a young matriarch; on the other, there simply isn’t anyone older who didn’t succumb to Fulvia’s power. Adana is perhaps the only other candidate and she’s even younger.”

  “But not disowned,” Cat interjected. “That will count for something, won’t it?”

  Melissa smirked. “The wards accepted me. I dare say someone will argue that I was never properly disowned after all.”

  “And no one will look at the reasoning too closely,” Markus added. “Unless they want to believe that Melissa can somehow throw off a blood magic attack.”

  “That would boost her status,” Jade said. He cleared his throat. “I have to head back to Whitehall, then return to Zangaria. Cat? Emily?”

  “We’ll go back to Whitehall too,” Emily said. She looked at Frieda, who nodded. “And thank you.”

  “House Ashworth owes you all a great debt,” Melissa said. “And when you call, we will come.”

  “After everyone recovers,” Markus said. “It might be a while.”

  Emily nodded as they turned and headed towards the door. She’d been shocked - badly shocked - when people had used mind control charms on her, even though no one had attacked her with such a dangerously powerful spell. Even Shadye’s blood magic hadn’t been quite so powerful. The Ashworths had effectively been mind-raped, save for Melissa and anyone else lucky enough to be disowned. It would be years before they recovered completely.

  Frieda was still holding her hand. “What now?”

  Emily glanced at her. Frieda looked pale and worn, but ... better, somehow. Frieda was alive. And, Emily vowed, she’d stay that way.

  “We’ll find out when we get to Whitehall,” Emily said. She had a flash of déjà vu. They’d walked back to Whitehall once before, after Daze had nearly killed them both. “And then we’ll see ...”

  Cat walked next to her. “Just go straight into an apprenticeship. The Grandmaster will be very glad to see the back of you.”

  “I imagine he will,” Emily said. Beside her, Frieda giggled. “But we’ll see.”

  “You can also come here, if you wish,” Melissa said. “There are quite a few magicians here who would be proud to have you as an apprentice.”

  “My family would say the same,” Cat said. He winked at Jade. “Jade could take you as an apprentice.”

  “Alassa would kill me,” Jade said. “Emily needs someone with a great deal more experience - and I notice you’re not volunteering.”

  Cat reddened. “You’re the one who completed an apprenticeship in under a year.”

  “By one day,” Jade said. “It might be technically true, but it isn’t that impressive.”

  “One day either way doesn’t matter,” Melissa said. “I was told that I might be spending years studying healing, if I can ever go back to it.”

  Emily nodded, slowly. Someone had to be matriarch. And if Melissa was serious about reuniting the Ashworths with the Ashfalls, it would have to be her. The bloodlines wouldn’t converge again without Melissa and Markus. She made a mental note to discuss the potential problems with Melissa, later. Melissa and Markus were separated by at least three generations, if she understood correctly, but there might still be genetic issues. Emily just wished she knew more about it.

  And Melissa knows where I come from, Emily reminded herself. She’ll listen, at least.

  She kept the rest of her thoughts to herself as they walked up the stairs and headed for the main entrance. The nexus point was still pulsing, but it felt ... friendlier, now Fulvia was no longer in direct control. There was no one else around, not even children. The children had been affected by the blood magic too. Emily glanced at Melissa, wondering what she was thinking. Rebuilding the family’s confidence, let alone everything else, would take decades.

  “I’ll get the renunciation written today,” Melissa said, as they walked onto the grass. “And thank you, once again.”

  Emily nodded, already shaping the spell to take them back to Whitehall. “You’re welcome,” she said. “And good luck.”

  “I don’t need luck.” Melissa leaned forward and gave Emily a hug. “I have you.”

  “And everyone else too,” Emily said. She grinned at Jade. “You don’t have to do it alone.”

  “Come on,” Cat said
. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Forty

  “I READ THE LETTER FROM THE new matriarch,” Gordian said, once Emily was seated in his office with a mug of Kava. “She has formally renounced all claims to Frieda.”

  Emily nodded, slowly. Melissa had worked fast, drafting the letter and sending it in less than an hour. Emily had barely had time to check on Lady Barb and Adana before it arrived. She knew she’d have to ensure that Sienna read the text to be sure there wasn’t a loophole, but she suspected it would be just a formality. Both Melissa and Markus had been trained in writing formal documents and avoiding loopholes.

  “The inquest, therefore, is officially over,” Gordian continued. “I will make a formal announcement tomorrow, but - as far as everyone is concerned - Frieda is now a free girl.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. She took a sip of her Kava, even though she knew she’d regret it later. “And the White Council?”

  “Fulvia will take the blame for everything,” Gordian said. He sounded as though he was distracted from a far greater thought. “Questions will be asked, of course, but I dare say most people will be happy to sweep the whole affair under the rug. Fulvia’s crimes, not least against her own family, will inspire universal revulsion.”

  Because the Ashworths are more important than Frieda, Emily thought, feeling a twinge of disgust. She knew she should be happy - or at least satisfied - with the outcome, but it still bothered her. No one really cares about a common-born girl.

  She leaned forward. “And Frieda’s future?”

  “She was not expelled, so she may resume classes if she wishes,” Gordian said. “Madame Kyla advises that Frieda spends the rest of the year recuperating, then retake Fourth Year if we can find someone willing to partner with her. I believe a couple of partnerships have already run into problems, so it might be possible. Or, if she prefers, she may retake Third Year and go on from then. The gaps in her theoretical knowledge should be closed.”

  He met Emily’s eyes. “I will see to it personally, if necessary. It has been a while since I taught charms or alchemy, but I can do it.”

  “Thank you,” Emily said. It wouldn’t solve everything - and she had no idea how Frieda would feel about it - but it was a start. “You won’t let anyone harass her?”

  “No,” Gordian said. His lips twitched. “The Ashworths have formally abandoned the inquest, so I don’t think there’ll be any problems. And if there are, I will deal with them.”

  “Very good,” Emily said. She looked back at him, choosing her words carefully. “You never answered my question.”

  Gordian frowned. “Which one?”

  “Why?” Emily kept eye contact, even though it was hard. “Why try to subvert the wards? Why ... why open the door for Fulvia to knock them down, perhaps even to take control of the school?”

  “She couldn’t do that,” Gordian said. “Countermeasures were already securing the heart of the wards ...”

  “You’re ducking the question,” Emily said. She allowed her voice to harden. “Why did you even start tampering with the wards in the first place?”

  Gordian sighed. She could tell he didn’t want to answer the question. But she also knew he knew he had to answer the question.

  “When I came to this school, I was worried about you,” Gordian said. “You were, as I saw it, a disruptive influence. Whitehall was nearly destroyed three times in the last four years, all because of you; Mountaintop genuinely was crippled, just because of you. And the effects - your effects - had spread far beyond the school. You nearly started an outright war between two families, nearly triggered civil wars in several different countries ... you didn’t mean to do it, but that is what you did.”

  He paused, as if he was waiting for comment. Emily said nothing. It wasn’t true, but ... she suspected it was pointless to argue.

  “You seemed, to me, to be someone out of control,” Gordian added. “Your father ...”

  “Outside your control,” Emily interrupted, coolly.

  Gordian acknowledged her point with a nod. “Your father appeared to have taught you that you could get away with anything, something that only became more pronounced as you got older. My predecessor gave you a great deal of leeway, even bending the rules on occasion to ensure that you had a clear path to getting what you wanted; others worked overtime to save you from the consequences of your own mistakes. By the time I became Grandmaster, I was convinced you had to go.”

  He looked down at his desk, breaking eye contact. “There were no grounds to expel you - and you didn’t seem to want to leave - so I tried to keep you busy. I figured that Professor Locke would ensure you didn’t have time to cause trouble. In that, I was wrong. Your mere presence caused trouble. The school started to collapse in on itself.”

  “Because you decided that opening the catacombs would be a good idea,” Emily said, coolly.

  “I reasoned that it would be better to know what was below the school than remain in blissful ignorance,” Gordian said. “It struck me as surprising that successive grandmasters had apparently asked few questions. And who knows what would have happened if we’d left it alone?”

  Emily considered it, then inclined her head to acknowledge that he had a point. On one hand, a ward network they didn’t understand might collapse at any moment, plunging the school into chaos; on the other, the time loop would collapse if she didn’t jump back in time. But Gordian hadn’t known that, had he? No one had dreamed that she might be one of the founders until it had actually happened.

  “And then you fell back in time,” Gordian said. “And when you returned, you had control over the wards.”

  He looked up at her, his dark eyes grim. “I was terrified,” he admitted. “There are children here who are heirs to powerful families or kingdoms, but you ... you had power over the school itself. The neutrality of Whitehall would be utterly destroyed if the outside world realized what you could do. And you could have overridden me - me, the Grandmaster - at any moment. How could my authority remain intact if everyone knew a little girl could countermand me at any moment?

  “I’m twenty-one,” Emily pointed out.

  “And most of the people in authority are in their eighties,” Gordian reminded her. “I’m quite young for this role, Emily. And to me, you’re still a child.”

  He took a breath. “What could I do? What should I do? I couldn’t tell anyone, not when almost every magician in the Allied Lands would rush to seek your favor. I agonized over the question for hours, Emily, trying to decide how to act. When Miles asked if he could take you to war, I agreed ... it would get you out of the school, maybe for a year or two. I told myself that I would have time to think, to come up with a solution. And when you won the war, my terror only got worse. I wouldn’t have time to come up with anything.”

  Emily leaned forward. “Why didn’t you just talk to me?”

  “Because I didn’t know what I could say,” Gordian said. “It was clear you didn’t like me, Emily. What would you do if you knew you could throw me out of the school in a moment?”

  His voice rose. “And there was no one else I could talk to, either. Anyone who learned the truth would rush to you, in order to seek your favor. What was I to do? If the truth ever got out, I was finished. And Whitehall might be finished too!

  “I hired wardcrafters and put them to work, examining the network of spellware binding the school together. I told them that they would be richly rewarded, if they found a way to cut you out of the network. They didn’t, quite, but they found ways to circumvent your control and isolate you. I believed I would be able to keep you out of the network long enough to deal with you if we did wind up in a confrontation.”

  “And one of them was working for Fulvia,” Emily finished.

  Gordian nodded. “Yes.”

  Emily met his eyes. “There are men who will be bowing the knee to Alassa, when she becomes Queen. They won’t have a problem with it.”

  “They know they are subject to a monarch.” Gordi
an’s lips curled, disdainfully. “And even then, some of them will have problems kneeling to a slip of a girl.”

  He looked back at her. “I took a post that gave me vast authority, as long as I honored the terms of the compact. It was to be the crowning moment of my career, a chance to shape the future itself. Instead, I found myself in a place where I could be overridden at any moment by a young girl who has a history of showing very poor judgement. Many of your mistakes, Lady Emily, have come back to haunt you. The next time, it might be Whitehall that pays the price.”

  Emily took a moment to gather her thoughts. She could see his point, yet ... yet she wouldn’t have overridden him on a whim. But would he have seen it that way? If he’d decided to expel Frieda - and she’d blocked him - would he have seen that as a whim? He might have a point, as much as she hated to admit it. His authority wouldn’t last if everyone knew she could overrule him. Certainly, he wouldn’t have thanked her for challenging him in public.

  Because it would make him look weak, no matter the outcome, Emily thought, grimly. Alassa had taught her a great deal about power politics - and why some aristocrats kept throwing good money after bad, even though it was clear they had already lost. If they look weak, their position becomes untenable and their enemies start sharpening their knives.

  “I wouldn’t have overruled you,” she said, slowly.

  “I could not take that for granted,” Gordian pointed out. “How could I?”

  Emily conceded, ruefully, that he might have a point - another point. Alassa had been a spoilt brat until she’d befriended Emily ... and she still had moments when she regressed into a bratty state. And Alassa’s bridesmaids had been worse, throwing fits because their dresses were not perfect or they weren’t taking the lead or ... poor Imaiqah had been driven to distraction by the little bitches. A number of bridesmaids had even sworn to ruin her, although they’d done that quietly. Alassa had a long memory and a vindictive streak.