Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (23 page)

She shook her head as Lord Hans and Lady Regina kept talking. She’d never met a baron who put the good of the kingdom before his own personal interest, let alone one who wasn’t keenly interested in exploiting everyone beneath him. Her predecessor had had his way with so many girls over the years that he’d sired a small army of bastards, all of whom had no legitimate right to anything, including his name. It was a wonder to her that he’d found the time to take part in a plot to overthrow the king, let alone rule his barony. But then,
she’d
found out that the hands-off approach led to more tax revenue in the long run.

And the rebels have a point
, she admitted, silently.
Why should they pay taxes if they have no say in how the taxes are spent?

It was her fault, she admitted silently. She’d given every ambitious man the tools he needed to put his discontent into words and spread it across the entire kingdom. Worse, perhaps, she’d broken the stranglehold of some of the most powerful guilds, including the ones that served the king and his power structure. The new fortunes made by traders had unsettled the kingdom, while the flocks of peasants leaving the lands had created a lower class ripe for revolution. Whoever had been writing the leaflets could have taken his lessons right out of Earth’s history.

But such rebellions always end badly
, she reminded herself.
The French Revolution turned into dictatorship, the Russian Revolution was worse...only the Revolutionary War succeeded and that was because an alternate power structure was already in the former colonies
.

She looked up, seeking Imaiqah’s father. He stood at the other side of the hall, wearing long dark robes worth more than everything he’d owned a mere four years ago. His reward for helping the king had been ennoblement, but it had come at the price of leaving the Assembly. He was no longer in a position to oppose the king - or even mildly disagree with him - unless he wanted to go back to being a commoner. Randor had neatly co-opted him into becoming a new servant. And who knew what he thought of
that
?

And the Assembly is toothless anyway
, she thought, sourly.
Randor didn’t let it keep any independent power for long
.

She sighed and dragged her attention back to Lady Regina. “It is a very great honor to be invited to the wedding of our king’s most beautiful child,” she was saying, addressing Alassa. “I have brought great gifts for you.”

Emily frowned. A gift? A
public
gift? She cursed under her breath as she realized what Lady Regina had done. She’d not only flaunted her wealth in front of the entire court, trying to convince them that she was staggeringly wealthy even though she wasn’t the baroness, she’d scored a social coup. Everyone would now have to offer their presents publicly, knowing their rivals would comment on cheap or inappropriate gifts. And Emily herself? There was no way she could offer her gift in public.
Everyone
would want to know what she’d written in that notebook.

I’ll have to find her something else
, she thought, crossly.
Or else people will wonder why I haven’t gotten her anything.

She pushed the thought aside for later contemplation as a handful of footmen walked forward, carrying a handful of heavy wooden chests. Emily had to smile when she saw them; the chests looked like pirate treasure chests, complete with golden metal holding the wood in place and silver padlocks that glittered under the light. Lady Regina rose as the footmen put the chests down, produced a key from somewhere within her dress and opened the first box, displaying its contents to Alassa. The crowd leaned forward; Emily heard them muttering and realized the chest was full of rare spices. Lady Regina opened the next four boxes in quick succession, revealing precious silks, trade goods from all over the world and a handful of gold and silver artefacts. She picked up a golden mask, surrounded with peacock feathers, and held it in front of her face.

She’s definitely scored a coup
, Emily realized.

She glanced at Lord Hans. He didn’t seem happy; indeed, he didn’t seem to have brought anything himself. God alone knew when the gifts were actually
meant
to be handed over, but Lady Regina had shown off her wealth and power in front of the entire court. And Alassa would be expected to give her something in return...the barony, perhaps? Whatever she chose might wind up being held against her later. Lady Regina slowly returned to her knees, her motion drawing all eyes to her. She might just have won the power struggle with her cousin...

Alassa rose to her feet. “I thank you for your gifts,” she said, calmly. She stepped forward, knelt down beside Lady Regina and helped her to her feet, then kissed her gently on the cheek. “I would be honored to have you as one of my attendants.”

Emily tensed as Lady Regina stiffened, just for a second. Alassa had neatly cut the wind from her sails. Being invited to join the Princess’s bedchamber - the women who attended on her at every hour of the day - was a honor, a rich reward, but it wasn’t what she wanted. And none of the aristocrats in the room would be blind to what had happened. Lady Regina’s plot had been derailed.

And she will have to accept, or give offense in front of the whole court
, Emily thought, gleefully. Anything so public couldn’t be covered up by the king. He’d have to do
something
to punish her, even if it was just granting the barony to Lord Hans. Lady Regina would become the laughing stock of the aristocracy, if she survived her cousin. Emily wouldn’t have bet good money on her lasting very long. Lord Hans would dispose of her as soon as possible.
She’s been outplayed
.

Lady Regina bowed, very slowly. “It would be my honor, Your Highness,” she said. “I shall attend upon you at your command.”

And I hope that Alassa never turns her back on you
, Emily thought, nastily. Lady Regina had to be
burning
with rage. Killing Alassa would trigger a civil war - and Jade would probably invent some new torture curses, just so he could use them on Regina - but she had a feeling Regina didn’t care about anything beyond herself.
Alassa would be wise not to let you anywhere near her bedchamber
.

King Randor made a gesture. A team of footmen arrived, picked up the chests and carried them into the next chamber. Emily watched Lady Regina, wondering just how much money she’d spent on the gifts. She doubted Regina had access to
that
much money...had she taken out loans with the other aristocrats to buy the goods? Or had she managed to extract it from her rebellious subjects? Either way, it might well have been a wasted investment.

She pushed the thought aside as the next set of guests arrived. Lord Hans and Lady Regina stepped to one side; the newcomers marched up the carpet, knelt in front of the king and pledged their obedience and fealty in loud voices. Emily studied them without much interest; they seemed to be lower-ranked noblemen from the border lands. A young man looked darker-skinned than the vast majority of the nobles; she guessed his family dated all the way back to the Empire, when nobility from all over the world had been forced to mingle. But if his family
was
that old, he’d probably keep it to himself. King Randor wouldn’t appreciate the reminder that there were older families than
his
.

And the rebels are right about that too
, she thought, as the ceremony wore on.
The first generation is tough, capable and competent. They give way to the second generation, which may not be remotely as tough or competent because they haven’t faced the same challenges; they, in turn, give way to the third generation, which isn’t remotely tough or competent, merely entitled
.

It wasn’t a pleasant thought. The children of the nobility might as well have come from different worlds than the children of the commoners. Even Imaiqah, whose father had been a prosperous merchant, wasn’t regarded as
noble
. Their lives were so easy, surrounded by servants ready to meet their every whim, that they couldn’t even begin to understand why the commoners had legitimate grievances. It had gone on for so long that their position seemed like the natural order to them. They’d see any suggestion it wasn’t as a deadly threat...

...And they’d be right.

She allowed herself a moment of relief as the ceremony finally came to an end, the vast majority of the aristocrats heading into the dining hall for dinner. King Randor strode out of the room, vanishing into his private suite before anyone could stop him; Alassa stood at the center of a crowd of noblewomen, all of whom seemed bent on showering her in praise for her beauty, her dignity, and her intelligence. Emily overheard just enough of their conversation to note that they said almost nothing about Jade.

They probably don’t think he’s good enough for her
, she thought, feeling a flicker of genuine anger. Fresh blood was
precisely
what the nobility needed.
Or they think she’ll merely treat him as a stud bull
.

Trying to hide her disgust, she turned and led Frieda towards Nightingale, who was holding court himself in front of a group of noblemen. Lord Hans was among them, glowering at their backs with a bitter intensity that sent shivers down Emily’s spine. His hand kept twitching towards his sword belt; Emily winced, inwardly, as she realized he still had his sword. She could stop him in an instant if she wished, freeze him in his tracks or turn him into a harmless animal, but he still scared her. He was too crazy to be deterred by anything other than naked force.

“Lady Emily,” Nightingale said. The noblemen backed off hastily, several of them glancing at Frieda with undisguised interest. “What can I do for you?”

Emily took a moment to gather herself. Nightingale was probably taking bribes, trading money or influence for access to the king. King Randor wouldn’t be blind to the man’s faults, but he’d still find Nightingale useful...besides, unless Nightingale fled the moment the king’s death was announced, he’d be butchered by one of his many political enemies. Hell, Alassa detested him. She might have him beheaded as an example to anyone who thought a female ruler was bound to be weak.

Not that they could think that after Alassa beheaded her aunt
, Emily thought.
There’s a streak of ruthlessness in her she gets from her father
.

“Inform His Majesty that I need to speak with him
urgently
,” Emily said. She knew she didn’t sound anything like as autocratic as Alassa, but she could try. “It would probably be best to meet before dinner.”

Nightingale frowned. “His Majesty will have little time to meet you before dinner,” he said, carefully. “After dinner...?”

Emily swore, inwardly. There wasn’t long until dinner, certainly not long enough for a proper discussion. Afterwards...the king couldn’t leave the dining hall early without sparking off hundreds of rumors. The nobility might see it as a sign of weakness. They’d learned a harsh lesson three years ago, but some of them might have forgotten it. If they thought the king was weak, they’d start plotting another coup...

“As soon as possible, after dinner,” she conceded. It wasn’t a pleasant thought. She’d probably be trapped in the dining hall for at least three hours, nursing a headache for two of them. She had no idea how Alassa endured it. “Inform the king at once, if you please.”

Nightingale bowed and hurried through the door, following the king. Emily watched him go, feeling suddenly very tired, then turned and smiled as she saw that Alassa had made her escape from the sycophants while Emily had been busy with Nightingale. She looked for Frieda and frowned; Frieda was talking to Lord Hans. The nobleman had pasted a charming smile on his face and held her arm as he spoke. Oddly, Frieda didn’t seem to mind.

Emily strode over to them, silently preparing a handful of spells. Doing something - anything - to Lord Hans without extreme provocation was probably a breach of etiquette, but she was damned if she was allowing him to hurt Frieda. Frieda looked up as she approached, her eyes wide. Thankfully, it didn’t look as though he’d hurt her...

“Emily,” she said. “Lord Hans was asking me for a dance, later in the evening.”

Frieda reached into her pocket and produced a dance card before Emily could object. Lord Hans took it, signed his name to the first dance and handed it back. He bowed politely to both of them and walked off, whistling cheerfully. Emily had to fight down the urge to hurl a hex - or a killing spell - into his back as he strode through one of the side doors and vanished.

“That man is not to be trusted,” she said, as she led Frieda in the opposite direction. She wrapped a privacy ward around them before Frieda could object. “Do
not
go anywhere alone with him.”

Frieda blinked. “It’s just a dance!”

Emily hesitated, fighting to bring her temper under control. “I met him in Swanhaven,” she said. “He’s cruel, unpleasant, and probably a little insane. His own servants are
terrified
of him. What does that tell you?”

“He just asked me for a dance,” Frieda protested. “I don’t get asked for
many
dances.”

“I know,” Emily said,

She sighed, rubbing her eyes wearily. Frieda simply didn’t
fit
into the aristocratic social structure. She was a commoner by birth, but magic and her friendship with both Emily and Alassa had raised her up. And yet she held no title of her own. Most aristocrats probably thought of her as nothing more than a female version of Nightingale. Useful, perhaps, but not truly
noble
.

“Dance with him, if you must,” she said. When would Randor want to meet? He didn’t normally stay past the first couple of dances. “I need to talk to the king about what happened today, so I want you to stay in the dance hall until I return.”

“I will,” Frieda promised.

“And remember, you have magic,” Emily added. “If he does something - anything - to you that you don’t like, hex him first and let me worry about the consequences.”