“My stepson, the Dragon-in-Waiting,” Queen Aquiline said, indicating the oldest boy. “And I believe you’ve met my stepdaughter already.”
Emily curtsied to the prince, hoping she’d gotten the protocol right, then took the proffered seat. The prince was a nice-looking young boy, with short brown hair cut in a distinctly adult fashion. His clothes were adult too, as if he was a child wearing his father’s outfit. Emily couldn’t help thinking he looked younger than he was. She wondered if that was the impression he — or his stepmother — wanted to convey.
She met Elena’s eyes — very briefly — then looked at the younger children. They were both blond, but Robert looked like a typical toddler — bright and bubbly — while Eve was too shy to even look at her. Emily felt an odd twinge. The poor girl wasn’t going to have an easy life, no matter who came out on top. Her half-brother would have problems deciding what to do with her. It might be better if she went to school and simply never came back.
“I’ve heard so much about you,” Willis said, echoing his stepmother. “Is it true you killed a necromancer in single combat?”
“Willis!” Queen Aquiline flushed. “That is not a suitable subject for the dinner table!”
“Father said I should learn from the best,” Willis said, with all the innocence of youth. “Is Lady Emily not one of the best?”
“It’s quite all right,” Emily said, gently. “Yes, I did kill a necromancer.”
“How did you do it?” Willis grinned at her. “I’m going to lead an invasion of the Blighted Lands when I grow up. I’m going to rid the world of the necromancers once and for all!”
“It took me everything I had,” Emily said. She couldn’t sense any magic from Willis, but he was young. It would be years before his power started to surface. “And he came very close to killing me.”
“You must be awesomely strong,” Willis said. “How did you do it?”
I ate all my greens, Emily thought, mischievously. And I did everything I was told.
“Years of practice,” she said, instead. “I spent six years learning everything I could about magic.”
“I’m already studying armies,” Willis said. “My uncle says I have great promise. I could be a general.”
“King Randor led his armies in battle,” Queen Aquiline said, forbiddingly. “I don’t recall that working out well for him.”
Willis looked at Emily. “Is that true?”
“More or less,” Emily said. Randor was the necromancer she’d beaten in single combat. “If he’d been killed in battle, things would have been different.”
She found herself liking the young prince as he bombarded her with questions. He didn’t seem to care that she was a girl, he didn’t seem to care about her murky origins... he just wanted to plan his war against the necromancers. Emily was fairly sure none of his plans would ever get off the ground — one simply didn’t march into the Blighted Lands — but it didn’t matter. It was clear the youngster was fascinated by the military. She hoped he’d learn there was more to being king than just fighting.
The maids entered, carrying trays of food. Queen Aquiline seemed determined to keep things as informal as possible, even though the food was strikingly fancy. The queen explained they were all local specialties, if ones only available to the rich. Emily wasn’t surprised. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same.
“Her Ladyship is from the south,” Elena said, in a tone Emily would never have dared use with Lady Barb. Emily would have been slapped, at the very least. “She doesn’t enjoy northern food.”
Queen Aquiline gave her stepdaughter a look that promised trouble later. “I wanted to introduce our guest to southern food,” she said. “The duke will happily introduce her to northern food.”
Emily lifted her eyebrows. “What’s the difference?”
The queen sniffed, as if she’d smelt something unpleasant. “Northern food is very bland, very blunt. They’ll feast for hours on barely-cooked meat, never stopping to actually taste. They’ll drink themselves silly on beer, force themselves to vomit and then drink themselves silly again. We in the south are much more refined.”
“Which is probably why the north conquered you,” Elena said, nastily. “You were too soft to put up a fight.”
“We taught you civilization,” the queen snapped. “And you learned from us.”
Emily cleared her throat. “How long ago was this?”
Elena reddened. “It depends on who you ask,” she said. “They say at least five hundred years ago.”
“I see,” Emily said. “And everyone takes this seriously?”
“The north believes the south is full of effeminate men and even more effeminate women,” Queen Aquiline said, tiredly. “The south believes the northerners are all hairy barbarians who don’t wash or shave or try to keep themselves clean. And there’s enough truth in it — for both sides — for there to be a line between the two communities.”
“I’ll unite both sides,” Willis said. “We’ll go to war...”
“And get a lot of people killed for nothing,” Queen Aquiline said. Her lips twitched in disgust. “War! What is it good for?”
“Stopping the necromancers,” Willis said, earnestly. “Are they going to stop if you ask nicely?”
“No,” Emily said. “But war isn’t a game.”
“It’s the game of princes,” Willis insisted. “And I will play with the best.”
You’d be better off competing in the tournaments, Emily thought. Tournaments were more than just knights in armor trying to knock each other off their horses. They were practically war games, allowing knights a chance to develop the skills they used in war. But the tournaments are no longer a reflection of what the wars will be like.
She met Elena’s eyes and winced, inwardly. The poor girl loathed her stepmother. Emily herself wasn’t sure what to make of the queen. Queen Aquiline looked harassed, rather than evil, but she’d learned to keep a mask in place as she’d grown older. It was possible she’d murdered her husband, Emily supposed. It was also possible that Elena was allowing her hate to blind her. She might not have realized there was more than one suspect.
The awkward dinner party rumbled on. Willis talked about war constantly, devising and revising plans to take the war to the necromancers. Emily really didn’t have the heart to tell him that none of the plans would work. Queen Aquiline seemed tired, constantly snapping at Elena after her stepdaughter sniped at her. And the two younger children just seemed bored with the adult talk. Emily sympathized. She was bored, too.
If the queen was the murderer, Emily mused, wouldn’t she be encouraging her stepson to go to war? It might get him killed.
She made a mental note to trace the aristocratic lineages and work out who stood to gain if Willis died. Alassa had taught her that aristocratic marriages were never about love. The bloodlines came first, always. Someone would be put out if Willis was no longer heir to the throne. Others would be pleased, ready to take advantage of the chaos. Who would win? Who would lose? And who might have an interest in kicking off a civil war?
And why, she asked herself, did Void care about the whole affair?
She cringed in embarrassment as Queen Aquiline and Elena started arguing. Loudly. The queen sounded as if she were on the verge of screaming or resorting to violence. Emily had the oddest feeling Elena was trying to provoke her, which made no sense. Elena believed her stepmother had killed her father. Why wouldn’t she fear being killed herself? Unless... had Elena murdered her father? She might just be able to outsmart a truth spell, particularly one that relied on being subtle. Emily silently replayed the conversation in her mind. Elena might just have danced around the issue without ever actually lying.
“I’m sorry, Lady Emily,” Queen Aquiline said, breaking into Emily’s thoughts. “My stepdaughter was raised by a northerner.”
“She’s lost her father,” Emily said. She didn’t blame Elena for missing her father. She’d lost both her parents now. They
’d never see her grow up, they’d never see her study magic or get married or have her first child. “I quite understand.”
“It doesn’t excuse rudeness,” Queen Aquiline said. “Elena, behave or go to your room.”
Elena stood, stomped across the floor and out the door, slamming it behind her. Emily was torn between amusement and a flicker of sympathy for the queen. Elena could hardly be more of a teenager if she tried. But then, she was a teenager. It wasn’t easy going through puberty at the best of times. Elena was trying to cope in the aftermath of losing her father to dark magic.
“I’m sorry,” Queen Aquiline said. “I beg your pardon on her behalf.”
“There’s nothing to forgive,” Emily said. Her mind raced. Was Elena acting? Was Queen Aquiline? Or was she overthinking it? “I have taken no offense.”
Queen Aquiline nodded. “I understand you rule a barony,” she said. “How do you cope?”
Emily nodded as a piece of the puzzle fell into place. She was an aristocrat! King Randor had made her Baroness Cockatrice. Alassa had promoted her after the war. Void had sent her — he might have sent her — because her word carried weight among her fellow aristocrats, because it might be enough to convince them that she’d found the real murderer. It made sense...
But it still doesn’t explain why he cares, she mused. He didn’t want me to be ennobled at all.
“I do as little as possible,” she said. “My people have as much freedom as I can give them.”
Willis coughed. “You don’t tell them what to do?”
“No,” Emily said. She didn’t like telling people what to do. She’d never been comfortable with servants, let alone people who were technically chattel. The law might say they weren’t slaves, but she’d never seen any real difference. “I find it’s more profitable.”
“Really?” Willis frowned. “That makes no sense.”
“Ten percent of a thousand is greater than fifty percent of a hundred,” Emily told him. “The former baron took everything he could from his people. He barely left them enough to keep them alive. So what did they do? As little as possible. They didn’t grow crops, because they didn’t get to sell them and they rarely got to eat them. They didn’t raise animals, for the same reason. And the smart ones, the ones who might figure out how to get more out of the ground, ran off to the cities to hide for a year and a day. Why would anyone bother to work if they knew they weren’t going to reap the rewards of their labor?”
She smiled at the young prince. “So I gave them freedom,” she said, putting it in a way she thought he’d understand. “I gave them a framework of law and little else. And I let them keep most of what they grew. On paper, my taxes are low. In practice, I still bring in more money than the rest of the barons.”
Or I used to, she reminded herself. The Great Charter gave everyone the same rights I gave my people.
“I don’t understand,” Willis said. There was no malice in his tone, just puzzlement. “You were born to rule.”
Queen Aquiline cleared her throat, nervously. Emily felt a twinge of sympathy. Willis had just stepped on what might as well have been a landmine, if he’d been talking to someone else. She hadn’t been born to rule. Everyone believed she was a bastard. She’d received her title as a reward, not handed down from her parents. Willis had delivered, by local standards, a terrible insult.
“Just because you can do something,” Emily said primly, “doesn’t mean you should.”
“But you gave up your power,” Willis protested. “Why?”
“Because I earned more by not using it,” Emily said. She wondered what his tutors had been telling him. That he was born to be a king? That he was born to tell everyone else what to do? That he was just... better? “You can see the paperwork, if you like. I earned more last year, before the war, than my predecessor earned in his entire life.”
“But they’re commoners!” Willis stared at her. “How could you be sure they’d do the right thing?”
Emily took a breath. “People will do what they think is in their best interests,” she said. “If I allow them to keep most of what they earn, they’ll do everything in their power to earn more because it’s in their best interests. If, on the other hand, I steal everything that isn’t nailed down, they’ll do nothing because that’s in their best interests.”
“It makes no sense,” Willis muttered.
Queen Aquiline smiled wanly as the maids cleared the table. “I think it’s time to put the little ones to bed, Lady Emily,” she said. There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “We’ll chat properly later.”
Without anyone asking dangerous questions, Emily added, silently. Queen Aquiline was bordering on the verge of rudeness, but Emily didn’t mind. Both of your stepchildren seem to want to dump you in hot water.
She stood, curtsied to the young prince and left the room, her thoughts churning as she made her way back to her suite. The castle was surrounded by powerful wards, including a heavily-modified labyrinth spell, but they weren’t enough to stop her. She suspected they’d been stronger while the king had been alive. It was definitely odd. Elena had a point, she conceded reluctantly. The queen was the prime suspect. She was the only one who might have had a chance to get close to the king.
Unless someone got their hands on his blood, she thought, as she entered her chambers. Any magician with half an ounce of sense knew better than to let that happen, but she knew from experience it was possible. They might have been able to curse him from a distance.
There was a small pile of books resting on the table, ranging from a couple of older volumes to a handful of books fresh off the printing press. The topmost volume was open, showing a map. Emily studied it, carefully placing Dragora on the northern shore of the Inner Sea, only a few hundred miles from Mountaintop. The mountains were hard to cross, if she recalled correctly. Getting an army to cross would be almost impossible. The Empire’s rule had been very light until it had all come crashing down.
Prince Willis would do better to build a navy instead, she decided. The Inner Sea was known for terrifying weather, yet it would be safer than trying to march to the Blighted Lands. But even that would be a gamble.
She glanced at the clock. It was nearly eight in the evening, but she still felt as if it were lunchtime. She picked up the book, promising herself she’d read for an hour or two and then go to bed. She’d be headachy if she used sleeping spells, but it was the only way to get accustomed quickly to the local time zone. Teleport lag was definitely starting to bite. She hoped Silent knew to go to bed and sleep before it caught up with her.
And tomorrow I’ll have to have a look at the king’s body, she told herself. She picked up the book and sat on the bed. And see if I can determine who killed him.
But she already knew, as she started to read, that it wouldn’t be that easy.
Chapter Twenty-Six
EMILY DIDN’T SLEEP WELL.
She tossed and turned, her body — and six years of experience — fighting the spell that should have plunged her into sleep. She fell in and out of awareness, snapping awake long enough to remember where she was before the spell dragged her back down again. It was almost a relief when the spell broke, the following morning.
Silent materialized before Emily had a chance to shower and dress, carrying the breakfast tray in one hand and a new outfit in the other. She looked remarkably composed for someone who couldn’t have slept any better than Emily, although Emily supposed Silent had managed to get up a little earlier. Emily felt a flash of irritation, which she angrily suppressed. The maid hadn’t had a choice. Teleport lag or no teleport lag, Silent had had to get up.
“I’ll run you a bath, My Lady,” Silent said. She looked utterly unchanged. “There’s no shower in the washroom.”
Emily rubbed her forehead. Showers weren’t a new invention, but they were rare outside magical dwellings. Even King Randor’s castle hadn’t had hot and cold running water until recently. She sighed, then took the breakfast tray
as Silent bustled into the bathroom. She wouldn’t feel clean until she’d had a proper shower... she wondered, suddenly, if she could teleport to her house to wash. Or would Void consider that cheating?
She quickly ate, washed as thoroughly as she could and then donned the new outfit. It was just like the old one, so close in style that she wondered if someone had simply conjured the dresses into existence. She didn’t think so, but it was possible. Void certainly had the power to do it, although it would have cost him. She glanced at herself in the mirror, brushed her hair and headed for the door. The castle wards hummed around her, growing stronger as she stepped into the corridor. It was unlikely she could evade their watchful eye.
Not that I’m trying to, she thought, as she reached out and queried the wards. They can guide me to the king’s resting place.
She kept her face carefully expressionless as the wards pointed her up a flight of stairs and down a long corridor. There were guards everywhere, glancing from side to side as if they expected to be attacked. A small army of servants ran from place to place, wearing livery that suggested they belonged to a dozen different masters. The duke and his supporters had moved into the castle, she reminded herself, as had the queen’s father. If she knew aristocrats, the king’s body had barely had time to cool before they started arguing over precedence and positions within the new administration. The only thing keeping the disputes from breaking into open violence was the simple fact that no one knew what shape the administration would take.
And who’ll be in charge of it, she mused. She stopped outside a solid stone door, marked with the dragon insignia. Backing the wrong side now could prove fatal.
“And where,” a voice demanded, “do you think you’re going?”
Emily turned, sharply. A man — a giant — stood behind her, close enough to block her retreat without getting too close. He was huge, easily the largest man she’d ever seen. Magic crackled around him, strange magic. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted the sword on his belt. The magic seemed focused around the sword... a blademaster, she realized grimly. Void had made her read about them. His magic had been bonded to the sword, giving him the power to punch well above his weight. The clothes he wore — pure dragonskin — merely added to his power. There weren’t many spells that could punch through dragonskin.
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