Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7) (30 page)

“Because it was what he wanted,” Emily said. “She could have
told
me.”

“Her father would have given her strict orders to tell no one,” Lady Barb said. “And you know she can’t lie to her father.”

“So she had to lead us all into temptation,” Emily said. She shook her head, bitterly. “Is it wrong of me to hate this...this whole game of thrones?”

“It’s the only one we’ve got,” Lady Barb said. Her voice hardened. “Learn how to play the game, or be nothing more than a pawn for the rest of your life.”

Emily sighed. She felt too tired to be mad at Alassa, who might well not have had much choice. If her father asked her, specifically, how many others had known about the plan ahead of time...she would have no choice but to answer. Alassa might not be a pawn any longer, not now she was the Confirmed Heir to the Throne, yet she wasn’t a Queen. Not yet.

“I know,” she said, in bitter resignation.

“You’re doing better than I expected,” Lady Barb said. “But you still have a very long way to go and time is short.”

She cleared her throat. “We will now discuss your detention.”

Emily felt her mouth drop open. “But...but it wasn’t real!”

Lady Barb smiled. “Did Alassa cast a spell on you to
make
you take part in her midnight feast?”

“No, she didn’t,” Emily admitted.

“You made a choice,” Lady Barb said. “It would have been easy, I think, for you to have refused when she offered. Instead, you chose to let her lure you out of bounds. I can’t let that pass, even though it was always doomed to end badly.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. Something else clicked in her mind. “That’s why Alassa wasn’t allowed to return, wasn’t it? She wasn’t actually punished.”

“No, she wasn’t,” Lady Barb agreed. “It would be the height of unfairness to penalize someone for something they didn’t actually do.”

Master Grey would probably disagree
, Emily thought.
He hands out detentions like candy.

“Let me see,” Lady Barb said. She struck a deliberately thoughtful pose. “It has to be something that will make you reflect, but not something too harsh. Do you have any suggestions?”

“You could tell me very loudly I’ve been very naughty and I’m not to do it again,” Emily suggested. It was worth a try. “Or you could put me to work on my homework.”

Lady Barb snorted. “I don’t think either of those are actually
punishments
,” she said. “I think you can spend an hour helping me in the infirmary. The rate of accidents has skyrocketed over the last couple of weeks.”

Emily shuddered, remembering the Second Years. “Why?”

“Good question,” Lady Barb said. “The Grandmaster thought, at first, that it was merely a run of bad luck. You know how many stupid accidents we get each year. Now, however, he’s starting to think there’s something badly wrong.”

Emily looked at the stone walls. “There’s something not quite right with the wards,” she said. “I can feel it.”

“They’ve been retuned,” Lady Barb said. “Since the start of term, we’ve discovered a number of attempts to insert various spying and probing spells into the school. One First Year even had his eyes charmed to allow someone else to peer through them. His father, it seems, was interested in something - or someone - at Whitehall.”

“Me,” Emily said.

“Probably,” Lady Barb agreed. “The changes in the wards are probably what you sensed.”

She shrugged, then got up. “There’s something else you can do, afterwards,” she added, as she picked up a couple of bottles and inserted them into her belt. “Go talk to Alassa and reassure her that you’re not angry.”

“I think she was trying to apologize to me,” Emily said, slowly. “But...”

“Go talk to her, once I dismiss you,” Lady Barb said. “You need your friends more than ever, I think, and so does she.”

Emily nodded, and followed Lady Barb to the infirmary. It was clean and bright, but she’d never liked it, not least because she’d spent too much time there. Normally, only a handful of beds were filled, but today several of the students had to share beds or lie on the floor, with only a thin blanket between them and the cold stone. Lady Barb spoke briefly to the Healer, and turned back to Emily.

“You’ll be healing those with minor injuries,” she said, flatly. “I expect each and every one of them to be healthy when you have finished, but if you run into any problems you are to call me at once. Do
not
attempt to fix someone when you’re not sure what you’re doing.”

Emily nodded - it beat changing and washing bedpans, at least - and got to work. The students were mostly younger than her, all with minor injuries that seemed to suggest they’d been deliberately hurt - or that they’d deliberately hurt themselves. She fixed a nasty bruise one girl sported, then asked her how she’d hurt herself. The girl said she’d merely run into a ball while playing Ken.

“They all have stupid excuses,” she complained to Lady Barb, when the older woman came to check on her. She’d started writing them down after the third such excuse; they
all
claimed to have hurt themselves accidentally. “It
can’t
be right.”

“The verification spells say they’re telling the truth,” Lady Barb said. She sounded perplexed. “It isn’t uncommon for people who have lost fights to claim something - anything - other than the truth, but the spells insist they’re not lying.”

Emily felt tired and drained by the time the detention finally came to an end. It was practice, she had to admit, and it was more practical than some of the other detentions she’d had to endure, but it was depressing. Lady Barb eyed her for a long moment, and passed her a potion without comment. Emily drank it, trying hard not to gag at the taste; there was a surge of warmth through her body, leaving her feeling a little better. But she knew it wouldn’t last.

“Go talk to Alassa, then get some lunch,” Lady Barb advised. “I believe there’s food in her room.”

“Thanks,” Emily said. “Where is she?”

“In your old room,” Lady Barb said. “I believe you know it.”

Emily nodded, refusing to rise to the bait, and then hurried towards the room. Whitehall seemed oddly quieter now - Alassa’s team wasn’t the only one playing games, she recalled - and she passed almost no one until she reached the door and knocked. It opened with a click, revealing a tired-looking Alassa lying on the bed, staring up at nothing. Her face was so pale that Emily couldn’t help wondering if she’d eaten anything at all.

“I didn’t mean to get you in trouble,” Alassa said. “It was just...”

“It’s alright,” Emily said. She sat next to her friend - it didn’t seem fair how Alassa managed to look beautiful even when she was clearly tired, upset, and depressed - and wrapped an arm around her. “I do understand.”

Alassa’s blue eyes moved to her. “Lady Barb told you?”

“I figured it out,” Emily said. “If you’d told me in advance...your father would have known.”

“I’ll have to make it clear
you
figured it out,” Alassa said. “Is Imaiqah mad at me too?”

“I don’t think she’s
pleased
,” Emily said. Unlike Alassa - or Emily herself - Imaiqah had fewer options if she had to leave Whitehall early. Maybe she was an aristocrat now, but her siblings would inherit most of the real power. “I’ll tell her and she will understand.”

“They’re all going to hate me,” Alassa said. She sat upright and glared down at her hands. “I think that was the lesson father wanted me to learn. That I could do the right thing, the
necessary
thing, and still wind up being hated.”

“A king must have a different view than his subjects,” Emily agreed, neutrally. How many quarrels had there been between kings and subjects, just because they’d had different views of the world? Or of what needed to be done? “When are you going to come back to the room?”

“Mistress Irene said I’d have to stay here for a day,” Alassa said. She waved a hand towards the pile of books someone had left on the desk. “And that I should take advantage of my time to work on my studies.”

“Not a bad idea,” Emily agreed. Alassa would have to remain out of sight long enough for everyone to believe she’d been punished. Her friends would be angry if she hadn’t been, after the detentions they’d been given. “I can stay with you, if you like.”

“Please,” Alassa said. She shook her head. “Have you managed to corner Frieda?”

Emily shook her head. “I planned to catch her at the games,” she said, reluctantly. “But I’ll stay with you instead.”

“It takes some people time to get over their feelings,” Alassa said. “I wasn’t in the best frame of mind after...after we first met.”

“I remember,” Emily said. She sighed, resting her head in her hands. “Why is life so bloody complicated? Wouldn’t it be easy to go through life not feeling anything?”

“I’m sure there are wizards who brewed potions to take away their emotions,” Alassa said, dryly. “I think they end up in the Halfway House.”

She gave Emily a tight hug. “You might not feel bad when you get in trouble, but you wouldn’t feel good when someone praised you,” she said. “You might not feel grief when someone died, yet you wouldn’t feel happiness when a new child was born. You might not wallow in misery when you have a fight with your boyfriend, but you wouldn’t have the happiness of making up afterwards.”

“And you wouldn’t have anything to spur you to better yourself,” Emily said. “Or to rise to the top in any field you chose.”

“I don’t get to choose,” Alassa said. “I am the Princess and the Heir and...there isn’t anyone else.”

Emily nodded. King Randor’s brother, the Duke of Iron, was kept in comfortable custody in a castle hundreds of miles from his former lands. His attempt to seize the throne, prompted by his wife, had resulted in absolute disaster. No one would accept him as a ruler even if both Randor and Alassa were dead. It was far more likely that the barons would divide the kingdom up between them, or start a civil war for the throne. Alassa couldn’t abandon her country without leaving it in ruins.

“At least you won’t be unprepared,” Emily said.

“I suppose,” Alassa said. She tapped her chest. “My father and I had a long talk about my responsibilities, once I get married. I’m expected to produce an heir very quickly.”

Emily shuddered. Alassa was nineteen - she’d be twenty by the time she married - and certainly old enough to have children safely, but it still felt odd to think of one of her friends giving birth. Emily didn’t want to think about the pressure King Randor would exert on Alassa and Jade to have children as soon as possible...if, of course, they
could
have children. Jade wasn’t related to Alassa on any level, as far as they knew, but it was quite possible that Alassa was barren. No one knew for sure.

“And then you’ll have a guaranteed succession,” she said, pushing her doubts aside. “And plenty of time to learn how to be queen.”

“I hope so,” Alassa said. “Father...was very blunt when he talked to me about men and pregnancy and...and having children. It wasn’t a pleasant chat.”

Emily could imagine. Talking to Lady Barb would be embarrassing; talking to a man, even one she trusted, would be worse. But King Randor needed grandchildren, if he couldn’t have more children of his own; he might insist that Alassa remained virginal until her wedding night, but he’d happily have the talk -
The Talk
, her mind insisted - with her. It could only have led to cringing embarrassment on all sides.

Or perhaps not
, she thought, inwardly.
Aristocrats are more interested in producing children than anything else.

“Then I ended up having another chat with Lady Latina,” Alassa added. “Do you know what
she
said?”

“I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She’d probably seen Lady Latina during one of her visits to Zangaria, but she couldn’t put a face to the name. “It probably wasn’t anything decent...”

“It wasn’t,” Alassa agreed. Her grin became evil. “She said that marrying a sorcerer was better than marrying an aristocrat because...”

“
I don’t want to know
,” Emily said, covering her ears. “I really don’t want to think about it.”

“You may have to,” Alassa said. She sobered, meeting Emily’s eyes. “What happens when Caleb wants to do something more than just kissing?”

Emily scowled at her, trying hard not to blush. “What happens when
Jade
wants to do something more than just kissing?”

“We’ve done a bit,” Alassa said, blithely. “Imaiqah was happy to tell me a few things we could do that didn’t risk a pregnancy. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”

I had the Internet
, Emily thought. If the Grandmaster had banned Blue Books from the school, she dreaded to think what would have happened if someone had invented the Internet and started using it for porn. It was only a matter of time, she was sure. The introduction of the scientific method had made it inevitable.
And I saw too much online
.

“I think we’d better go back to our studies,” she said, instead. “Or do you want me to make your apologies to Imaiqah and the others?”

“Later, if you wouldn’t mind,” Alassa said. “I was hoping to talk about other matters with you.”

Emily nodded and picked up one of the books. “Right now, we both probably look like idiots,” she said. “You for being caught out of bounds; me for being knocked down by a bunch of Third Years.”

Alassa snorted. “I think if you’d been able to hex them back things would have been a little different,” she said, tartly. “And you really should know it.”

“I do,” Emily said. Just cutting down the number of students aiming hexes at her had been quite helpful...and she could have stopped more of them if she’d been allowed to fire off her own spells. “But everyone else thinks otherwise.”

“Then everyone else is an idiot,” Alassa said. She reached out and gripped Emily’s hand. “I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if Lady Barb had kicked me in the ass years ago, back when she was my bodyguard. But...”

She sighed. “Master Grey may be doing you a favor,” she added. She didn’t sound as if she really believed her words. “You do realize that?”