Fulvia eyed him coolly. “Are you accusing me of murdering my grandson?”
“It does seem off,” Marcellus said, “that you should jump to that conclusion.”
He smirked, then went on. “Painkilling potion tastes horrible, by design,” he said. “I fancy few people could swallow more than a teaspoon, certainly not willingly. They wouldn’t need to, either. One teaspoon would be more than enough to make their bodies go numb. Why would anyone set out to drink a whole bottle of the stuff?”
“My grandson was always emotional,” Fulvia said. “It seems to run in the family.”
“I had noticed,” Marcellus said. He looked at Emily. “How is her great-granddaughter at school?”
Emily paused to consider her answer. She didn’t like Melissa, full stop. Melissa had had a feud with Alassa, which had widened to include Emily and Imaiqah after they’d become Alassa’s friends. She still cringed at the memory of some of the humiliations Melissa had heaped upon her. But, at the same time, she couldn’t deny that Melissa was a powerful and skilled magician. She’d always been in the top ten each year.
“Talented,” Emily said, finally.
“A very diplomatic answer,” Marcellus said. “But is it true?”
“Of course it is,” Fulvia said. “Talent runs through the bloodline. Indeed, I fancy Melissa’s children will be powerful indeed.”
Emily frowned. “Her children?”
“She is to marry Gaius,” Fulvia said. “It will bring his bloodline into the fold.”
Emily had suspected as much, but the confirmation left her feeling sorry for Melissa. If Gaius was so cruel as to turn a helpless maid into a frog, who knew what he would do to his wife? But, on the other hand, Melissa was hardly defenseless. The marriage might end with her murdering her husband, perhaps on their wedding night. It would be hard to blame her for blasting Gaius into thousands of pieces.
Not that that would stop Fulvia from trying, Emily thought.
The soup arrived, thankfully cutting off conversation. Emily took her bowl with relief and tucked in as soon as everyone was served. Fulvia and Marcellus seemed to welcome the pause too, given how badly they’d been sniping at each other. Emily couldn’t help wondering if they were going to start trying to kill each other, if they kept picking fights throughout the Faire. It was going to be a long two weeks.
She glanced at Melissa and frowned, inwardly. Melissa seemed torn between hope and a grim despair that flickered over her face, then faded away when she clamped down on her emotions. Emily wondered, vaguely, if there was anything she could do, but there was nothing. And even if there was, Melissa had been thoroughly unpleasant to her. A part of Emily’s mind thought she deserved a little humiliation...
Shut up, she told herself, sharply. Her eyes found Gaius, who was chatting to a pair of magicians of roughly the same age. No one deserves that kind of man as a husband.
“Your cooks have done a wonderful job,” Fulvia said, as the soup bowls were taken away and the next set of dishes were brought out. “I must ask them for the recipe.”
“I doubt you cook for yourself,” Marcellus sniped, unkindly.
“There is something to be said for cooking for one’s family,” Fulvia said. “There are ancient protective charms that can only be worked by the mother when she’s cooking for her children.”
She gave Emily a sidelong glance. “There are tricks passed down through the bloodlines that are rarely shared with outsiders. Talk about the prospect of learning them with your father, if you wish, then see who might offer you the most knowledge.”
Emily’s eyes narrowed. Melissa might have realized that Emily prized knowledge above all else...but it had been Nanette who had been the first to really grasp it. Mountaintop wouldn’t have been able to try to use the offer of knowledge to seduce her if they hadn’t realized it was a possible ploy. And Fulvia had gone to Mountaintop. Had someone passed the word to her?
Or are you just over-thinking it? She asked herself. Fulvia might have been making a sincere offer, of sorts.
“I’m not familiar with such magics,” she said, truthfully. “How do they work?”
“Through the blood,” Fulvia said. “The family is bound by blood and honor.”
“Except when it isn’t,” Marcellus said. He smiled at Emily. “Blood and honor is one thing, but only true power can bind a family together.”
Fulvia snorted, rudely, and turned her attention to her food.
Emily sighed, and took the opportunity to glance at her friends. They seemed to be having fun, as they were totally without the problem of being caught between two powerful and dangerous magicians who happened to hate each other. She ate quickly, despite her lack of appetite, and rose to her feet again once the plates had been taken away.
“There will now be a short intermission,” she said. “If you would care to accompany me to the battlements, you will be able to watch the fireworks as they light up the sky.”
“I would be honored,” Fulvia said. “But an aging lady like myself needs to be helped up the stairs.”
“You’ll outlive us all,” Marcellus said, bluntly. “How old are you, really?”
“A lady never says,” Fulvia said. She held out her arm to Emily. “If you will, my dear?”
Emily scowled, but took Fulvia’s arm. She had wondered if Fulvia was actually younger than she seemed, or was draining someone else’s youth to keep herself young, but Fulvia moved like an old woman. There was nothing keeping her going but sheer power and bloody-minded determination. Emily didn’t like Fulvia, any more than she liked Fulvia’s great-granddaughter, yet she had to admire her determination. She was older than Douglas, and yet her mind was still working perfectly.
The battlements were shrouded in darkness when they reached the top of the castle. High overhead, the stars were starting to come out, twinkling in the night sky. Emily caught her breath — perhaps it was her imagination, but the stars always seemed brighter in the Nameless World than they had on Earth — and glanced at her watch. There were only a few minutes to wait until the fireworks began.
“Cold enough to keep a body awake,” Fulvia said. She hadn’t let go of Emily’s arm. “But warm enough to keep one from going back inside.”
Emily shrugged. Moments later, the first set of fireworks began to shoot into the sky and explode. The children whooped as bangs and cracks echoed through the night sky. Brilliant flashes of multicolored light burst through the air, some twisting madly while others just flared once and vanished back into the darkness. They’d been experimenting, Emily realized, as more and more fireworks were launched from the Faire. She hadn’t known they could produce so many colors, the last time she’d checked.
“Impressive,” Marcellus said. “But where is the magic?”
“There is none,” Emily said. She couldn’t help wondering how he’d react, when he realized the truth. “Just chemistry.”
“No magic,” Marcellus said. He didn’t sound if he believed her. “How is that even possible?”
“Chemistry,” Emily said, simply.
She would have said more, but her attention was drawn away by a sudden exchange of blows between two young men, followed by a handful of hexes. Emily cursed and let go of Fulvia, just as the hexes started to reflect in all directions. One spell flashed towards Alassa’s back, only for Jade to knock her down a moment before it slammed into her. Emily met Jade’s eyes, just for a moment, as he lay on top of Alassa, covering her with his body. But there was no time to think about what his expression meant...
“Stop this,” Fulvia bellowed, as several others raised their hands, ready to launch hexes of their own. Somehow, she no longer looked like a weak and feeble elderly woman. “Garth, Holston; put your hands down at once.”
“And you do the same,” Marcellus bellowed at his family members. “Honestly, Roland; I thought Markus could keep you in line!”
Emily looked around. There was no sign of Markus. Or Melissa.
Fulvia caught Gart
h by the ear and dragged him back to where Emily was standing. “I offer my apologies, Lady Emily, for the disturbance of your peace,” she said. Her voice was coldly furious, each word making Garth jump. “You may punish him as you see fit.”
Emily thought, fast. No one had been hurt, fortunately, although it had been a very near thing. If Alassa had been struck in the back, it might have burned through her protections and spelled doom for Zangaria. Civil war would have been inevitable.
“Roland will also submit himself to your judgement,” Marcellus said, as he walked back to Emily. Roland trailed him, looking like a child who didn’t quite understand what he’d done wrong. In other places, Emily suspected, fighting with the Ashworths would have been considered commendable behavior. “We offer our apologies, too.”
“They can spend the rest of today and tomorrow in their rooms,” Emily said. It was a light punishment, but she had no idea just how far she could press them. Besides, she had a feeling that both Fulvia and Marcellus would be meting out punishments of their own. The battlements were not a good place for a battle. “And they can apologize to Alassa and everyone else they nearly hit.”
“Matriarch,” Garth said. “I must...”
He yelped loudly, his protest cut off, as Fulvia twisted his ear. Emily winced in sympathy; she’d lost count of how many times she’d been injured in the Nameless World, but having one’s ear twisted had to hurt badly. And there was the humiliation of being treated like a child in front of everyone, friend and foe alike.
“Go to your room,” Fulvia ordered. “I will discuss the matter with you later.”
Garth glared at Emily, then stalked off with as much dignity as he could muster. Emily watched him go, resolving not to turn her back on him while he was in her castle. People could do stupid things out of injured pride, she knew all too well, even if they had been in the wrong. Garth might just try something to avenge himself...
“I’ll see you tonight, lad,” Marcellus said, to Roland. “And I suggest you prepare yourself for a long explanation.”
He turned to face Emily. “I apologize, once again,” he said. “Those two hotheads have no common sense.”
Fulvia, for once, didn’t seem inclined to snipe further. Instead, she turned and watched as the remaining fireworks exploded in the night sky. Emily checked her watch — the firework display was due to last twenty minutes — but decided they must have burned through their stockpiles quicker than they’d expected. A final firework rose up to the heavens, then exploded...sending a wave of multicolored light cascading in all directions. The air tingled with magic, just for a second, and faded away to nothingness.
“Let us go down to the dance,” Emily said.
The servants had been busy while the guests had been admiring the fireworks. They’d pushed tables against the walls and placed desserts there for anyone to eat. A line, mainly composed of young children, was already forming beside the bowls; Emily watched in some amusement as the children squabbled over who should eat first.
“My Lady Emily,” a voice said, behind her. “I was wondering if you could tell me where Melissa has gone.”
Emily turned...and looked up at Gaius. He didn’t seem any pleasanter now, she noted, than when she’d seen him for the first time. She didn’t really feel like helping him — and even if she had, she lacked the ward network necessary to track and monitor each and every one of her guests.
“I’m afraid I couldn’t tell you,” she said. She made a show of looking around. “But she isn’t here.”
“But we are to be married,” Gaius protested. “I have a right to know where she is.”
I think Melissa has a right to do horrible things to you, Emily thought, coldly.
“I can’t tell you where she is,” she said, instead. “If you want to find her, I suggest you go looking for her.”
“We are to be married,” Gaius repeated, “and yet she doesn’t want to spend time with me.”
Emily shrugged, battling down her temper. Gaius...seemed odd, a mixture of entitled brat and passive-aggressive victim. There were some men, Sergeant Harkin had told his class, who saw the world divided into two sets of people: masters and slaves. The trick to controlling them, he’d said, was to keep them convinced that you were the master. Emily couldn’t help wondering if Gaius was torn between the two extremes. Maybe Fulvia had considered him biddable...
But he turned a maid into a frog, Emily reminded herself. He doesn’t deserve sympathy.
“Emily,” Steven said, coming up behind them. “A word, if you don’t mind.”
Emily nodded to Gaius and turned to Steven. Gaius snorted and stalked off, muttering rudely under his breath.
“We need to talk,” Steven said, bluntly. “Can I request an appointment tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow afternoon, before dinner,” Emily said. It wasn’t a discussion she wanted to have, but she knew there was no choice. “I’ll see you in my office, if that’s acceptable.”
“It will do,” Steven said. He looked around. “Have you seen Markus?”
“No,” Emily said. She sighed, inwardly. “I have no idea where either Markus or Melissa happens to be.”
The band struck up a merry tune, inviting the dancers onto the floor. Steven bowed to her, before heading towards a pretty girl from one of the cadet branches of the Ashfall Family. Emily sighed, and started to make her way towards the dessert table. Alassa waved to her as she passed, then beckoned her into a corner.
“Emily,” she said. “Do we have time to talk?”
“I’d be glad of the distraction,” Emily said. She looked at the dancers and felt a flicker of envy. She had never had the confidence to just glide onto the dance floor and make up her own steps. “Would you like to run the rest of the Faire for me? I’m sure your father would consider it good practice.”
Alassa shrugged, although it was clear her mind was elsewhere.
“No,” she said. There was something in her voice that caught Emily’s attention, something...wrong. She was nervous. But Alassa was never nervous, not really. She could be happy or angry or even depressed, yet she never lost her poise. “But we do need to talk.”
Chapter Twenty
EMILY FROWNED AS ALASSA LED HER into one of the private rooms, locked the door and started to erect a set of complex privacy wards. Some of them she knew from Martial Magic; others were unique, as far as she knew. Alassa might have had a few private lessons during her Third Year...or she might have some specialized spells that had been devised for her family. Either way, no one would be able to spy on them without breaking through the wards and setting off a multitude of alarms.
“That’s a very complete set of wards,” Emily said. She felt she should say something, if only to break the tension. Alassa was practically nibbling on her fingernails. “Where did you learn those?”
“I don’t like the idea of people spying on me,” Alassa said. She gave Emily a sidelong glance before sitting down in one of the comfortable chairs. “My aunt...who knows how long she was watching me, before she made her move?”
“Years, perhaps,” Emily said. It might have been her fault. The barons would probably have been quite happy to have a spoiled brat on the throne. They wouldn’t have been able to marry her — and who would have wanted to marry her? — but at least she wouldn’t have been interfering with them. “I think she was an obsessive woman.”
Alassa smiled, thinly. “I think she was,” she agreed. “Please, sit down.”
Emily sat, feeling a chill running down her spine. Alassa was always direct, always certain the straightest path to the target was right through any barriers in her way. For her to be so hesitant was strange, utterly out of character. Alassa had never been shy about saying what she needed to say. Emily smoothed her dress, reminding herself of the value of patience. There was no need to rush things.
Unless there’s another problem, she thought, morbidly. Or a disagreement that turns to outright violence.
Alassa looked down
at the floor, her hands twisting and turning in her lap. “I need you to tell me something,” she said, finally. “Something important.”
Emily stared at her friend, who refused to meet her eyes. What did Alassa want? Had her father asked her to make a particular request of Emily? Something she knew Emily would refuse? Or was it something else, something more personal? It wasn’t like Alassa to be shy about anything. She’d happily built her own sports team in Year Two and set out to knock the older students off their comfortable perches.
“You can talk to me about anything,” Emily said, slowly. Lady Barb would have known what to say, she was sure. “I promise.”
Alassa took a deep breath. “Emily,” she said. “How do you feel about Jade?”
Emily blinked in surprise. Her imagination had provided a multitude of possibilities, from Randor having figured out the nuke-spell to trying to arrange Emily’s marriage, but she hadn’t even considered the possibility that Jade would be involved. She thought fast, trying to sort out her own feelings...and parse out the motives behind the request. But she could come up with nothing.
“He’s a friend,” she said, finally. She found the whole embarrassing interlude difficult to talk about, even to her best friends. Jade had asked her to marry him, perhaps out of sympathy, and changed his mind shortly afterwards. “He...you know...we’re better off as friends.”
Alassa looked up. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She’d found his proposal a little flattering, but also worrying. “I don’t think we would make good partners.”
She frowned. “Although I seem to recall you talking about the advantages of such a match,” she added. “You thought it was a good idea.”
“That was before I knew where you came from,” Alassa said. She looked back down at the floor. “And before you became a baroness, for that matter.”
So I’m too grand for Jade now, Emily thought, sourly.
“Alassa,” she said slowly, “why are you talking to me about this?”
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