Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (21 page)

“Then go,” a third girl said. Emily couldn’t even begin to keep track of their names. “I have the place of honor during the third match and I won’t give it up for anyone!”

“I forgot my placements,” a fourth girl said. “Where should I stand?”

“At the back,” the first girl sneered. “Your father might be a lord, but your mother was the daughter of a...”

Emily groaned inwardly as a verbal cat-fight started to break out, then glanced at Imaiqah. Her friend had enough magic to bring a crowd of unruly brats to heel, but if she used it her father’s position would be badly undermined. Imaiqah was, after all, a newly-created noblewoman as well as a magician, someone who could be attacked by a superior aristocrat...

Emily gathered herself, raised her hand as she shaped a spell in her mind and thrust it out as hard as she could. It was a poor technique - Jade, Imaiqah or Alassa would have been able to deflect it easily - but the bridesmaids were almost completely without magic. They froze in place, unable to move or speak. Silence fell like a thunderclap. The spell had been so overpowered that it had snared the tailors as well as the bridesmaids. Emily slowly lowered her hand, keeping the spell in place. It was almost frightening just how easy it was to channel so much power.

The magic field flickered, twice. Two of the bridesmaids - she noted their faces for later identification - did have magic, but were untrained. They were trying to fight the spell, but it was too strong for them to deflect or counter. Emily stepped forward, trying to present the same sense of inevitability that Lady Barb used in her classes. They had to believe that resistance was futile.

And I’m about to undermine Imaiqah
, she thought, bitterly. Maybe she could just keep the spell in place and the girls frozen until the wedding was over and the happy couple were off on their honeymoon.
But as long as I’m the one who gets the blame...

She clasped her hands behind her back to keep them from shaking and addressed the frozen girls. “This is a Royal Wedding, not a circus,” she said, trying hard to channel Lady Barb’s way of speaking. “Princess Alassa is getting married. There are more important issues at hand than which of you gets the place of honor. You have
all
been given a chance to shine - and that is the best we can do. Now, if you want to leave, you may do so. If not, do as you’re told without further whining, moaning, or generally acting like silly children.”

They are children
, part of her mind noted.
The oldest of them may be twenty, but they were never encouraged to grow up
.

She pushed that thought aside and buried it firmly. “If any of you want to complain about this, you may blame it all on me,” she added. It would certainly
look
like she’d pushed Imaiqah aside to impose her will on the younger girls. “But you can do it later. The next one of you to complain about her place in the line will be turned into a small hopping thing.”

There was a long pause as she slowly unraveled the spell. She’d
definitely
used too much power; she thought, just for a moment, that she might need help to dismantle the spellwork and free the girls. But, seconds later, the spell came apart. A dozen bridesmaids fell to the ground as their legs gave way; the others staggered, but caught themselves before they could lose their balance. And they all stared at her with fearful eyes.

“Take a moment to recover,” Imaiqah said, coolly. She looked at the tailors. “You may go.”

The tailors hurried out of the chamber, trying hard to look as if they weren’t fleeing for their lives. Emily couldn’t help finding it depressing, even though she knew it was her fault. A number of bridesmaids looked as though they wanted to run too, most likely only duty and the thought of parental outrage keeping them in place. Maybe they hadn’t believed the heralds when they’d sung songs about her powers. But they sure as hell believed them now.

“Lady Barb is not going to be pleased,” Imaiqah muttered. “And King Randor is going to be furious.”

“I couldn’t stand to see them undermining you any longer,” Emily muttered back.

Imaiqah nodded, coolly. “We’ll discuss it later, after we know what the repercussions are.”

Emily kept her face impassive. The bridesmaids would probably complain to their families as soon as the rehearsal was over - and the families, in turn, would complain to the king. It probably would cause all sorts of problems for King Randor, but she had a feeling he’d turn it around and use it against his noblemen. How
dare
their daughters try to ruin
his
daughter’s wedding?

Imaiqah whistled, again. “Take your places, please,” she ordered. She animated a vision of a faceless woman walking up the aisle. “And be prepared to follow the steps.”

She nodded to Emily. “You’re up first.”

Emily nodded, then walked from one side of the room to the other, careful to keep her eyes fixed on the far side of the chamber. She wasn’t allowed to look either left or right, even though she knew thousands of people would be staring at her during the public ceremony; she reached the end, turned, and clasped her hands in front of her. Moments later, the illusionary Alassa started to glide forward, followed by the older bridesmaids. Emily felt an unwilling stab of sympathy as they tried hard to march in unison. It would take days of practice before they knew what they were doing.

“Not too bad,” Imaiqah said, when they reached the far end. “Now, the children.”

At least they have it easy
, Emily thought. The children didn’t have to worry about following a precise script; they merely had to walk up to stand behind the older girls.
But they’ll have to stand there for hours
.

“Good,” Imaiqah said. “Now we do it all over again.”

Emily was silently grateful, as they went through the whole routine five times in a row. The children started to act up by the time they finished the fifth cycle, while the older girls looked as though they wanted to protest but didn’t quite dare. Imaiqah summoned the tailors back, had them collect the dresses and then dismissed the girls, warning them to report back for more practice the following day. None of the girls seemed very eager, even the ones who had thought being at the front was an honor, but none of them dared disagree.

“What a horror,” Imaiqah said. “A week to get everyone perfect.” She snorted. “Thank you for your help.”

“As long as they blame me for it, everything should be fine,” Emily said. Her headache, at least, had faded slightly. Maybe she could find Lady Barb and convince her to spar in a spellchamber. “I’m sorry if it gets you in trouble.”

Imaiqah shrugged. “They should have summoned a Dancing Master for this,” she said. “But then they would have needed a chaperone. And he wouldn’t have
your
presence.”

Emily gave her a hug. “I’ll go find Lady Barb and see what’s happening this afternoon,” she said. She paused. “Am I
needed
for anything?”

“I don’t think so,” Imaiqah said. “There will be another rehearsal tomorrow, of course, but you shouldn’t be needed until then.”

“Understood,” Emily said.

She nodded to Imaiqah, then left the chamber and hurried up the stairs towards the Royal Apartments. Someone was arguing just around the corner, where Alassa’s rooms were; she hesitated, then walked forward to see who was there. Lady Barb stood there, lecturing a red-faced Alassa. They both looked up and glared at her.

“I’ll be with you in a moment,” Lady Barb said. It took Emily a moment to realize that Lady Barb was providing her with a way out. “See you in your rooms.”

Emily nodded and hurried back to her door. Behind her, she sensed a flicker of magic as a privacy ward snapped into place.

It took nearly twenty minutes, just long enough for her to change into a fresh set of clothes and drink two glasses of water, before Lady Barb knocked on her door. Emily let her in, bracing herself for a lecture. Lady Barb had never been shy about telling her when her behavior was objectionable and she probably wasn’t about to change now.

“Being a bride is never easy,” Lady Barb said, instead. “Give your friend some room, okay?”

Emily blinked in surprise. “What happened?”

For a moment, she thought Lady Barb wasn’t going to answer - or rebuke her for being curious about matters that were none of her business. It wouldn’t be the first time for that, either.

“She was being taught some of the more complex steps,” Lady Barb said, slowly. “And she started arguing with her mother. It all went downhill from there.”

“Oh,” Emily said. “If I get married, can I have a small wedding?”

Lady Barb gave her a tired smile. “Maybe, but the bride is often the sole person who isn’t allowed any input at all.”

Emily scowled, then cleared her throat. “I may have done something stupid,” she said, and outlined what she’d done to the bridesmaids. “Did I do the right thing?”

“Probably,” Lady Barb said, when Emily had finished explaining. “As long as they were smacked down by a social superior, they’re more likely to ask for more rather than go complaining to their families.”

She shrugged. “Come on,” she said. “Let’s go for a walk.”

D
ESPITE LADY BARB’S WORDS, EMILY HAD
expected someone - King Randor, Jade, or Alassa - to tell her off for using magic on the bridesmaids. She’d prepared herself as best as she could to deal with whatever they said, both to defend herself and stick up for Imaiqah, who’d been expected to herd cats without support. But no one said anything to her, not when she attended dinner that evening or during the next three days of endless rehearsals. Either no one had dared report the incident to the king, which she doubted, or the king had quietly decided to ignore it. Even so, it was a considerable relief when Imaiqah told her she didn’t have to attend any more of the minor rehearsals. She picked up Frieda - the poor girl had spent most of her time in the library, reading - and asked for permission to leave the castle. King Randor didn’t raise any objections.

“Just try to remain anonymous,” Lady Barb warned. Emily had half-hoped she would come with them, but she was busy helping Jade and a team of wardcrafters with the castle’s defenses. “You don’t want to attract attention.”

“And make sure you wear something that makes you look prosperous,” Jade added, from where he was checking the spell diagrams. “You don’t want to be taken for whores or aristocracy.”

Frieda giggled. “Do they really go together?”

Lady Barb scowled at her. “If you’re taken for whores, you will be harassed,” she said, bluntly. “And if you’re taken for noblewomen, you will be asked for alms or kidnapped by a bunch of thugs. Try to strike a middle ground.”

Emily frowned. “We
could
wear our robes,” she suggested. “It would mark us as magicians.”

“You might also be harassed by other magicians,” Jade pointed out. “Just wear something that marks you as middle class.”

“Very well,” Emily said. “And thank you.”

“Make sure you’re back before sunset,” Lady Barb warned, as they turned to leave. “The next set of guests is arriving at the castle then.”

Emily nodded. They walked back to their rooms, changed into dresses like the ones Imaiqah had worn before she’d been ennobled and headed down to the gates. The guards took no notice as they left the castle, although it was clear that anyone trying to get
into
the castle had to answer some very searching questions. There was a long line of coaches, carts and hand-drawn rickshaws backed up along the Royal Mile. Emily looked at a handful of frustrated drivers, including a couple playing cards by the side of the road, and rolled her eyes. Wouldn’t it have been better, she asked herself, to stock up on food
before
inviting so many guests?

“There’s a lot of people here,” Frieda said, as they wandered down the street. “How many people live in the city?”

“Around a hundred thousand, I think,” Emily said. King Randor had talked about doing another census when so many people had started to sneak into the city from the countryside, but as far as she knew it had never been carried out. “Right now, with guests from all over the world, it has to be full to bursting.”

“Looks like it,” Frieda agreed. She smiled up at Emily. “It’s good to be out of the castle.”

“You could be taking part in rehearsals,” Emily said, dryly. Frieda would have been feeling alone - and abandoned. She should have been able to make friends with some of the younger girls in the castle, but they had very little in common. The aristocrats would see her as a jumped-up mountain girl and the servants would see her as an aristocrat. “Being in the library isn’t that bad.”

“I ran out of interesting books very quickly,” Frieda said. “That creep Nightingale had the nerve to suggest I should memorize some family trees. Why would
anyone
want to memorize a family tree?”

“So they can be snobby,” Emily said, after a moment. “A person who can claim a descent from someone important can look down their noses at everyone else.”

Frieda smiled. “I’d like to see them do that to the king.”

“They wouldn’t dare,” Emily said. She shrugged. “You do need to know who your relatives are, so you don’t accidentally marry them, but other than that...it’s pointless snobbery.”

It had been nearly four years since she’d first visited Alexis, scant months after she’d started to release her innovations into the world. Even then, there had been changes; now, the city looked very different. English letters were everywhere; shopkeepers had fixed lists of their stocks to the walls, while innkeepers’ signs regretfully admitted that they had no room in their inns. The cobblestones were cleaner than she remembered, too; the city council must have taken her warnings about the dangers of unsanitary environments to heart and started clearing up the filth. A red-rimmed poster affixed to a wall, as they turned the corner and walked past a set of middle-class houses, warned that anyone caught emptying their chamber pots into the street would be put in the stocks and publicly flogged. She wondered, briefly, just what the locals were meant to do when so few houses had running water, then decided she didn’t want to know.