Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (19 page)

“You could have compelled them,” Emily said.

“It didn’t work,” Jade said. “The charm they used was
good
. Anything covered underneath it was
very
well protected. If I’d used more forceful measures their brains would have melted into mush. I think it might have been a variant on an oath of secrecy, but mundanes can’t normally swear oaths. They simply couldn’t share what they knew, no matter how we tried to convince them to talk, without the right passwords.”

“Which you didn’t have,” Emily said.

“Which we didn’t have,” Jade confirmed. “I checked the magical community here, but it isn’t very big. There certainly doesn’t seem to be anyone capable of devising such a charm, let alone using it. And that worries me.”

Emily nodded, slowly. She suspected the printers had a point - the cost of the wedding was already astronomical - but she understood why Jade would be worried. Someone who could cast such a charm and make it work more or less indefinitely would be very dangerous, all the more so as they were clearly opposed to the king or working for someone who was. A baron, perhaps; he’d be sure to have the resources to pay for a first-class sorcerer.
And
an excellent motive to try to kill Alassa.

“If there’s anything I can do to help, just ask,” she said. “And if it gets me away from the preparations...”

Jade gave her an evil look. “I’d prefer not to be skinned alive by the queen,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to put up with it.”

“I hate you,” Emily said, without heat. She rose, gently. “Can I use the spellchamber again tomorrow?”

“If you must,” Jade said. He paused. “Do you really need it?”

Emily hesitated. Jade had seen her casting dozens of spells. And he knew where her limits had been, two years ago. Now...

“Yes, I do,” she said. “And please don’t ask any questions.”

“As you wish,” Jade said. She wondered if he was jealous. If she’d been kicked to a higher level now, how powerful would she be at twenty-five? “Just...try to make sure you don’t let anyone else in here. I’m trying to make sure that only magicians can pass through the wards.”

Emily cocked her head as he rose. “How powerful is King Randor?”

“Good question,” Jade said. “And if you happen to learn the answer, please let me know.”

“Y
OU KNOW,” IMAIQAH MUTTERED, USING A WARD
to hide her words, “I’ve been to more lively funerals.”

Emily couldn’t disagree. The dining hall was packed - she’d counted over two thousand guests crammed into the chamber - but there was almost no conversation, certainly not at the high table. Jade’s father sat next to King Randor; his mother sat next to Queen Marlena, their expressions suggesting they would sooner be somewhere - anywhere - else. The non-too-covert stares of the aristocracy, clearly trying to work out where the parents of the Prince Consort stood in the hierarchy, probably didn’t make them feel comfortable.
Emily
had always hated being stared at, even before she’d come to Whitehall. She understood precisely how the older couple felt.

“They’re feeling as if they don’t belong,” she muttered back. “Didn’t you have the same problem?”

Imaiqah nodded, reluctantly. “My father isn’t really accepted by the older aristocracy,” she agreed. “His grandchildren, on the other hand...”

Emily nodded, tightly. Imaiqah’s position was odd, to say the least; she was the younger daughter of a newly-ennobled aristocrat, but she was both a magician and a close personal friend of the Crown Princess. It was easy to imagine aristocrats holding their noses while ordering their sons to court her, or trying to open discussions with her father about a formal betrothal. The hell of it was that, a few years ago, it would have been a perfect opportunity for his family. Now...Imaiqah could aim higher, if she wished.

And Randor may think he has to have input into her final choice
, she thought, morbidly. It wasn’t uncommon for magicians to have long strings of lovers - she’d given up trying to learn the names of Imaiqah’s boyfriends, as they were gone before she’d memorized them - but aristocratic women were meant to be chaste.
It had better be someone tolerant - or at least understanding
.

She made a mental note to discuss the issue with Imaiqah later, then looked back at Jade’s mother and father. Sir Hawker - he was a Knight of the Allied Lands, not unlike Caleb’s father - was a tall buff man, wearing a suit that managed to look both expertly tailored and ill-fitting. His face looked like an older version of Jade’s, but he had a set of nasty scars running down the left side of his jaw and he was missing a handful of teeth. One of his eyes even looked slightly out of place, as if it was a size too large for the eye socket. Beside him, Galina looked small and fragile; it was hard to believe that she was a qualified Chirurgeon who’d followed her husband on a dozen hunting expeditions through the Allied Lands. There was something about the dark-haired woman that nagged at Emily’s mind, something oddly familiar. But she couldn’t put her finger on it.

She’s a surgeon
, Emily reminded herself. A Chirurgeon was a non-magical doctor and surgeon, to all intents and purposes. Lady Barb had told her that they were to be respected; they might have no magic, but they could still save lives if given the chance. True Healers were in short supply.
She isn’t someone to be underestimated
.

She twisted her head slightly until she could see Alassa, sitting next to Jade. Her friend’s face was a perfect mask, suggesting she was more worried than she cared to let on.
She
might be relieved that Jade’s family didn’t have any unfortunate problems she’d have to deal with, but their lack of status would reflect badly on them. Emily had wondered why Alassa didn’t simply arrange to have them raised to the peerage, like Imaiqah’s father; Alassa, when asked, had pointed out that it would look bad. The aristocrats would assume that it had been done merely to smooth their son’s path to marriage, rather than as a reward for good service.

Madness
, Emily thought. She’d endured two days of being measured by the tailors - again and again and again - while her dresses were fitted.
They should just run off and get married in Beneficence.

The servants returned to collect the plates, removing the remains of the dinner. The scraps would be taken out of the castle and given to the poor, according to Imaiqah; Emily had a private suspicion that the
best
parts would be eaten by the servants instead. She allowed herself a moment of relief - roast meat, overcooked potatoes and gravy was a little too heavy for her - and sat back in her chair. The only good thing about the whole affair was that the guests were staring at someone other than herself.

“We’re having the first rehearsal tomorrow,” Imaiqah said. “You will be coming, won’t you?”

“Of course,” Emily said. “I didn’t think I had a choice.”

Imaiqah winced. “Go tell that to the bridesmaids,” she said. “The children aren’t so bad, but the older girls...”

Emily frowned and took a closer look. Imaiqah had always been more mature - more stable - than either her or Alassa, but she looked tired. Too tired. She looked worse than she had on the fourth day of their exams, her face pale and wan. Emily would have unhesitatingly prescribed sleep, if she’d had a chance; Imaiqah had been running herself ragged just trying to keep up with the arrangements.

She cursed under her breath. “Are they that bad?”

“Half of them seem to think
they
should have been appointed Maid of Honor,” Imaiqah said. “The
other
half seems to think they can do whatever they like and no one will give a damn or try to stop them. Several of the little brats haven’t had their dresses finalized yet because they keep sending them back for minor changes, while a couple of others are insisting on being in the front row because their families have always had that right...”

“Madness,” Emily said.

“They’re going to have to explain themselves to the Queen if they turn up tomorrow without their dresses,” Imaiqah added, savagely. “And they’ll find a way to blame it on me.”

“I’ll support you if they do,” Emily promised. “I thought they wanted to play a role in the ceremony...”

Imaiqah snorted. “Half of them are taking part because it’s a way to pretend they’re close to Alassa. Half are only there because their parents forced them to go. Half will only cooperate if they’re placed in prominent positions; the other half then starts objecting because
they’re
not in the front row.”

“That’s four halves,” Emily pointed out.

Imaiqah glowered at her. “You know what I mean.”

Emily nodded, ruefully. Alassa’s wedding was
the
social event of the year, as far as the nobility was concerned. It was important that they be seen to take part in the ceremony, even if all they did in reality was turn up at the right time and look good. Emily didn’t pretend to understand the complex network of social rankings and obligations that pushed and pulled the aristocracy in different directions, but she was glad she didn’t have to handle it. She didn’t envy Imaiqah at all.

“And I have to coordinate with Nightingale,” Imaiqah continued. She shuddered, dramatically. “Every time I talk with him, I feel like taking a long bath.”

King Randor tapped his knife against a glass for silence, then rose. “It does me great honor,” he said, “to welcome the mother and father of my future son-in-law. I bid you all make them welcome.”

A loud cheer ran through the room. Emily looked down at the lower tables, silently wondering who’d shown genuine enthusiasm - and who’d cheered only because they knew the king would see their silence and remember. The aristocracy might have good reason to be grateful that Alassa was marrying Jade, but the introduction of two newcomers into the nobility - two newcomers who couldn’t easily be dismissed - would upset all their petty little games of power. Who knew? A Beast Hunter might prove a dangerous enemy if provoked by an insult to his wife.

“We shall now retire to my private chambers,” the king added. It was, Emily knew, a way of closing the formal part of the evening. Someone could leave the room now without anyone taking offense. “I thank you all for coming.”

He turned and strode out of the room, followed by most of the high table. Emily glanced at Imaiqah, then followed the group through a pair of heavily-warded doors into one of the king’s private rooms. It was far smaller than the hall, of course, but considerably more comfortable. Alassa had told her, once, that it was where her father let his hair down, where he was no longer burdened by the iron rules of kingship. He could be
human
when he wasn’t being watched by a crowd of power-hungry aristocrats.

And he has no enemies here
, Emily thought. Queen Marlena, Alassa and Jade, Hawker and Galina, Imaiqah and Emily herself...Lady Barb had been invited, as had Frieda, but she’d declined the invitation and offered to teach Frieda a few tricks she needed to know.
There’s no one here who would turn against him at the drop of a hat
.

She glanced at the queen and frowned. Marlena looked...
weaker
than she remembered, her face so pale Emily honestly wasn’t sure how she managed to stand upright. Emily briefly considered one of a handful of diagnostic spells, but none of them could be cast without the Queen’s permission. She’d have excellent medical care, Emily reminded herself; King Randor would make sure she had the best in the world. Perhaps, like Imaiqah, the strain of orchestrating the wedding was getting to her.

But she wasn’t well last year
, Emily recalled.
Why
...?

She pushed the thought aside as King Randor made a show of taking off his crown and placing it on the table. Emily sensed magic crackling around the crown, warning her that only one person could wear it safely. Even without charms tied to a specific bloodline, she knew she wouldn’t be able to wear it for long. Alassa had been practicing wearing a heavy crown from the day she’d started to walk and even
she
couldn’t wear her crown for more than an hour without developing aches and pains.

“You may all speak freely,” Randor said. A handful of servants arrived and started to distribute drinks. “No one can hear us here.”

Except for the servants
, Emily thought, sardonically. She sniffed the liquid in the glass and placed it on the table. She’d had enough experience with drunken people to know she didn’t want to risk becoming a drunkard herself.
And you won’t forget what anyone says...

“I thank you, Your Majesty,” Jade said.

Randor smiled and looked at Hawker. “I heard about your adventures in East Haven,” he said, seriously. “It was quite an impressive account.”

“The broadsheet writers are prone to exaggeration, Your Majesty,” Hawker said. “There were only four centaurs involved, not forty.”

There was an awkward pause. “So,” Imaiqah said, into the silence. “What actually happened?”

Emily concealed her amusement as Hawker leaned forward. “There was a raid on a small village by a group of centaurs,” he said. His voice grew more confident as he talked about something he understood. “They killed three men and carried off seven unmarried girls. I was in the area and tracked them to their lair, where I killed all four of the centaurs and saved the girls. They had yet to work their will on their captives.”

“You made the region safer,” Randor said. “That is not a small achievement.”

“The forests have too many pockets of wild magic, even now,” Hawker said. “There are places most people won’t go, Your Majesty, even if they have a small army and a dozen sorcerers at their back. I’ve seen giant spiders overrunning villages, trees and bushes given unholy life; I even saw a handful of men become monsters once they were touched by wild magic. Purging the whole place of wild magic is beyond us.”

He sighed. “And there’s a Faerie Ruin in the exact center. It is said that anyone who walks into it never returns. I encountered a man who claimed to have walked into the ruins a hundred years ago, only to emerge long after everyone he knew was dead, but it was hard to say if he was telling the truth.”