She listened to a long recitation of the duels, crammed with obscure fencing terminology, without — somehow — letting her boredom show. Sergeant Harkin hadn’t bothered with fancy terminology, nor had his successors. They’d been more interested in teaching their classes how to stab the pointy end into someone’s chest. She wondered, idly, if the tutor was helping or hindering the boy. They’d be limits to how far he could go. How would Willis fare when he faced a real opponent?
He’ll have taken his knocks, she reminded herself. She’d watched the princes showing off as they’d competed for Alassa’s hand. The risk of death — or serious injury — had been ever-present. Princelings weren’t coddled, even by indulgent parents. And he’ll hopefully have learned from them.
“That was very interesting,” Queen Aquiline said, when Willis finally came to a halt. “But now we should eat.”
She signaled for the maids to bring the first course. Emily tested the food, then started to eat. It was lucky, she supposed, that the queen wasn’t allowed to eat in public until the formal mourning period came to an end. And she wasn’t allowed to eat in private with any unrelated men, either. There could be no dispute over who had fathered her child, if she was pregnant. Emily wondered if the duke could share a meal with his sister-in-law. Technically, they were no longer related.
Not that it matters, she thought. She didn’t think the queen was pregnant. There was no reason for her to be isolated for three months. There were plenty of spells that could confirm or deny a pregnancy. And there are no shortage of paternity spells either.
The queen shushed her children when they tried to start talking while they ate. Emily concealed her amusement as she looked from face to face. Elena was as resentful as ever, Willis looked eager to resume the discussion... Eve still wouldn’t even look at Emily. She mulled it over for a moment, then shrugged. Children were very sensitive. It was quite likely Eve knew something was wrong, even if she didn’t know what. And she’d know her father was gone, never to return. Emily felt a stab of sympathy. She knew what it was like to grow up without a father.
“I’ll speak to my father,” the queen said, when the meal was finished. “And let you know when we can meet.”
Emily nodded, recognizing the dismissal. “Thank you for inviting me,” she said. “And I’ll see you in the morning.”
She stood and left the room. Her thoughts churned as she made her way back to her bedroom. She had to meet Lord Eddisford, if only to get his take on the whole affair. But... she shook her head. She’d drawn a blank. She honestly wasn’t sure what to do next. She put the thought to one side as she entered her bedroom, unsurprised to see Silent folding her dress and placing it in the wardrobe. The maid turned and curtsied as soon as she saw Emily.
“My Lady,” she said. “Do you want me to draw you a bath?”
“No,” Emily said. She sat down on the bed. “Have you heard anything from the other servants?”
Silent looked faintly embarrassed. “They’re very surprised your... ah... master only sent you with one servant.”
“I’m sure they are,” Emily said. She wondered what they’d have said if she’d turned up with no servant. “What did they have to say about the king?”
“They’re placing bets who killed him, My Lady.” Silent wrinkled her nose in disapproval. “The odds appear to favor the queen, although the duke is a close second. They don’t know, though. Or so they say.”
Emily nodded. “What else did they have to say?”
Silent looked down. “The king was... respected, if not liked. The maids talked highly of him, which is rare.”
“I know,” Emily said, disgustedly. Servants, particularly young female servants, had no rights. The former baron of Cockatrice, a man whose name could no longer be spoken on pain of death, had made a hobby of deflowering young girls. And he’d set the tone for his subordinates. It was astonishing how many had left the barony after she’d taken control. It spoke well of the late king that he hadn’t abused his servants. “I suppose that’s a point in his favor.”
“As My Lady pleases.” Silent paused, then went on. “There’s no suggestion he was anything other than kind to his servants. They dislike the queen and fear the duke, the former because she brought in her own servants and the latter because he’s... unstable. They’re afraid there will be war and” — she looked up — “and they’re hoping Arbiter Rogan can patch things together before there’s a real explosion.”
“I hope so too,” Emily said. She found herself considering desperate measures. “Can we legally demand they submit to a truth spell before they assume the protectorship?”
“I wouldn’t know, My Lady,” Silent said.
Emily dismissed her with a wave, then sighed heavily as she stood and started to undress. The answer to the question was probably no. The innocent would be just as angry as the guilty. They were aristocrats. They couldn’t be put to the question like commoners. The innocent would protest loudly, even if the guilty party was uncovered. And who knew where that would end?
I could do it anyway, she thought. It was tempting, very tempting. The rules were just a little vague about how much authority she actually had. Rogan had made that clear when he’d shown her the paperwork. I don’t live here.
She shook her head in frustration. There would be consequences. Void and Alassa would have to deal with hundreds of outraged complaints. Void wouldn’t care — she was sure — but Alassa would be a different story. Whatever her personal feelings, she’d have to punish Emily somehow just to keep diplomatic relationships on an even keel. Emily’s lips quirked — perhaps Alassa could banish her from Zangaria again, as a show of punishment without actually doing anything — before she sobered. It wouldn’t be fair to put her friend in such a position.
“I’ll think of something,” she said, as she climbed into bed and pulled the covers over her head. She suddenly felt very tired. “Somehow.”
She closed her eyes, reviewing the day as she drifted off to sleep. The duke, the queen and her children and stepchildren... Simon and his magic... it went together somehow, but she had no idea how. It meant... what?
A hot flush ran through her. Heaviness pressed her down. Her thoughts spun in circles. Someone was in bed with her! Panic yammered at the back of her mind as she felt... something... running over her body. Fingers stroked her breasts and trailed down towards her groin. She reached for her magic, but felt nothing. The touch was growing stronger, threatening to reach inside her. She felt her panic growing worse, burning her mind. She was going to be raped. She was going to be raped and killed and... she choked, a hand grasping her throat and squeezing and...
She coughed, fire running through her veins. Poison? She couldn’t breathe. The thought galvanized her. She forced the panic out of her mind, bringing up her legs to kick at her foe. Her feet kicked the blanket aside, waving wildly in the air. There was no one there. And yet, she felt the sensation of someone touching her, someone reaching through her defenses as if they weren’t there...
There’s no one there, she thought. She clenched her fists, driving her nails into her palms until she drew blood. The pain shocked her awake, her eyes snapping open. She felt as if someone had cast a sleeping spell on her, but... the magic faded even as she looked. The chamber was dark, the shadows looming around her... she swallowed, hard, and summoned a light globe. The room was empty. There’s no one there.
Emily winced, feeling sweat running down her brow. A nightmare? No, it had felt too real. She looked down at herself, half-expecting to see bruises or blood. Her magic billowed around, disturbing the bed. She closed her eyes and reached out with her senses, trying to feel something — anything — that might explain what had happened. There were faint traces of magic, dark magic. Or was she imagining them? They faded into nothingness before she could get a glimpse of them. She wasn’t even sure they were real.
Subtle magic, she thought, numbly. She clung to the thought, even as it tried to inch out of her mind. Someone
just tried to kill me.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Her legs threatened to buckle. The spell — whatever it was — had tried to suck her down into a nightmare, a nightmare from which she would never have awakened. She knew, now, how the king had died. The aches pervading her body were all the proof she needed. The king’s body had thought it was dead, so it died. She staggered over to the desk, reached for her notebook and wrote everything down as quickly as possible. Subtle magic could convince someone that black was white, or steer them in whatever direction the caster pleased, but only if they didn’t think to question their actions. If they did... if they tried to put their reasoning into words... it became easy to realize there was no reasoning.
And I won’t forget something I wrote down, she thought. Her head hurt. She wanted to take a potion, but she didn’t dare. Who did this to me?
The murderer, her own thoughts answered.
She sat down, wrapping her arms around her bare legs. Cold logic told her she should raise the alarm, that she should summon the Royal Guard and Court Wizard. But she didn’t know who she could trust. She didn’t know if she’d be alerting the murderer, when she informed the castle’s masters. And who knew what the murderer would do if he knew his trick had failed? She reached out with her senses, once again. The final traces of the spell had faded. There was nothing to lead her to the caster.
A very weird spell, she told herself. It seemed to break most of the rules she’d spent the last six years learning. I would have died and Silent would have found my body...
She put the thought aside as she carefully stood and started to cast a whole series of protective wards. Her personal charms hadn’t been enough. Now... she warded the entire chamber, careful not to brush the castle’s wards too strongly. Silent could get in, if she wished, but no one else. She just didn’t know who to trust. Rogan was perhaps the only one who didn’t have a motive and he... who knew? She walked back to bed, thinking hard. If someone had tried to kill her, she had to be closer than she thought.
The queen may think I’ll find something in her husband’s chambers, Emily thought. It was possible, if one assumed the queen was the murderer. Or the duke might have decided to kill me for humiliating him.
She banished the lightglobe with a wave of her hand and lay back down in the darkness. The hell of it was that she wasn’t any closer to figuring out who the murderer was. There was no evidence, nothing beyond a vague dislike for the duke. And the murderer had tried to kill her...
At least I know the king’s death wasn’t an accident, she mused, as she composed herself and tried to sleep. The thought had nagged at her mind, despite the dark magic tainting the king’s corpse. She’d have to talk to Rogan in the morning, let him know the murderer was still active. Accidents like that don’t come in pairs.
With that thought, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL YOU?”
“Yes,” Emily said. She sat in Rogan’s chambers, drinking Kava. The bright sunlight streaming through the window made it hard to believe, somehow, that it hadn’t been a nightmare. “And I think they used the same spell to kill the king.”
Rogan nearly dropped his mug in surprise. “What happened?”
“The spell tried to drag me into a nightmare,” Emily said. She knew she’d been alone, yet she still felt as if she’d been on the verge of being raped and killed. He didn’t need to know the details. “And it caused real physical pain. I think... I think that the king wasn’t able to fight off the spell.”
“And so it killed him,” Rogan said. He glanced at a sheet of parchment. “That’s why the healers found no real damage?”
“I believe so,” Emily said. “It makes sense.”
“Perhaps,” Rogan agreed. “Did you check the room for subtle magic runes?”
“Yes.” Emily felt a flicker of annoyance. She’d learned the danger of subtle magic a long time ago. “I searched the room thoroughly, with both magic and the naked eye. I found nothing.”
“Which may prove nothing,” Rogan said. He stared into his mug. “The runes could be in the next rooms, Lady Emily, or designed to obliterate themselves when the spells fell apart.”
“There would still be traces of magic,” Emily pointed out. “And I found nothing.”
She kept her face under tight control. She’d done more than just search the room. She’d gone through every detection spell she knew, trying to get a lock on the magic and follow it back to its caster. It hadn’t worked. The traces had been so thin, so barely there, that it was hard to believe she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. There’d been no hope of finding whoever had cast the spell. The traces had blurred into the wards...
Whoever cast the spell had to be inside the castle, Emily thought. Her lips twitched sardonically. That reduces the number of suspects to a few hundred or so.
“Strange,” Rogan said, almost as though he were talking to himself. “I would have expected a more... effective... assassination attempt. The only thing they did was put you on your guard.”
“It would have killed me, if things had been a little different,” Emily said. She knew she’d been lucky. If Void hadn’t forced her to work on her mental defenses, on practicing defending herself against attack, she would have died. Silent would have found her unmarked body in the morning. “And I have no idea who to blame.”
Rogan nodded, stiffly. “At least we know there is a murderer.”
“But we don’t know who.” Emily had had the same thought. “And we might not have time to lure him out of hiding.”
“No,” Rogan agreed. “We have less time than you think.”
He waved a hand towards a stack of papers and parchments on the desk. “Do you know what those are?”
“No,” Emily said.
“Statements from the queen, the duke and parliament,” Rogan told her. “Stripped of all the fancy language and flowery promises, they’re practically identical. One, whoever wrote or commissioned the statement has the best claim to the protectorship. Two, the other claimants are lying weasels who should be banished for the good of the kingdom. Three, a long list of precedents and legal judgments that support their case.”
He smiled. “They really are practically identical.”
Emily took a sip of her drink. “Who has the edge?”
Rogan looked pained. “I’ve been through every document,” he said. “There are precedents for either the queen or the duke to claim the protectorship — and, through it, the regency. There are precedents for either of them to lose. Parliament has the weakest case, in some respects, but there are fewer precedents favoring or disfavoring them. And... neither the queen nor the duke can claim a victory if parliament wins.”
“And neither of them will be in a position to attack the other,” Emily said.
“Don’t count on it.” Rogan’s voice was very grim. “There’s no way the young king can be raised apart from his relatives. His uncle will have access to the king’s bedchamber. His stepmother will have access too. The best anyone can hope for is that open violence will be averted until the king is old enough to rule in his own right, but” — he shook his head slowly — “there will be trouble. By law and custom, any concessions the king makes while he’s underage will be automatically revoked once he reaches his majority. Anyone — and that includes parliament — who benefits from whatever they get out of a child-king will not take that calmly.”
He sighed. “Parliament has been trying to get more concessions out of the king for years,” he added. “They’ll take advantage of a minority government and a regency to strengthen their hand. And neither the duke nor the queen will take that very calmly.”
Emily frowned. “You can’t patch together a compromise?”
Rogan smiled, wanly. “I can patch together a compromise, sure,” he said. “I can try to convince the queen and the duke to share the regency. But I’d be astonished if it lasted any longer than a year. Even a mon
th might be optimistic. There’s too much at stake for both of them. They’ve already got troops outside the city. There will be blood.”
“And thousands of people will die,” Emily said.
“Yes.” Rogan waved a hand at the paperwork. “I cannot simply pick one and hope for the best. I have to put together a convincing case, one that will be immediately challenged by the losers. There will be conflict, whatever I do. I don’t think I can convince the duke to refrain from punishing the queen if he becomes protector and vice versa.”
Emily tilted her head. “You can’t offer to sway the decision in favor of whoever’s prepared to swear they won’t seek revenge during the minority?”
“If it got out, it would be cited as evidence the decision wasn’t made honestly,” Rogan said, severely. “And whoever made that claim would be right.”
“Even if there are precedents for the decision to go either way?” Emily didn’t want to let the thought go so easily. “You could make a convincing case for either side...”
“Yes, but I would still sacrifice my neutrality,” Rogan said. “And that would be the end.”
Of peace and your career, Emily thought. Arbiters were sworn to strict neutrality. If someone thought you’d weighted the scales in favor of the wrong side, the one that won, you’d lose everything.
“And you still run the risk of putting a murderer in power,” she said. “We still don’t know who...”
She shook her head. Rogan was right. It was an odd method of assassination. There were easier and safer ways to kill one’s enemies through sorcery. And yet... the murderer had struck at a king, not to mention a sorceress who’d killed a string of necromancers. There were definite advantages to using a technique that was effectively untraceable. She knew someone had tried to kill her. She just didn’t know who to blame.
And if I accuse the wrong person, or even the right person without proof, she reminded herself, it won’t get anywhere.
“Yes.” Rogan stood and walked over to the window. “The armies are getting larger. It’s only a matter of time before they start sneaking troops into the city. The duke has already been making noises about reinforcing the Royal Guard, citing the threat from anarchists and levellers within the city. He might even be right. There’s a flourishing Leveller community out there. But it would put far too much power in his hands.”
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