Love's Labor's Won (38 page)

Emily felt a stab of sympathy for the girl. It couldn’t have been easy to watch her secret lover prepare to fight her family. But why had it all blown up so quickly?

Idiots
, she thought.
It would have been safer if they’d picked the fight in Whitehall.

“I offer my apologies, too,” Marcellus said. “Markus, you and I will discuss this matter once we are back in our rooms.”

Markus colored. Emily felt a flicker of sympathy, knowing that Marcellus would not be kind or understanding. How could he be, when he didn’t know that Gaius was more than just a potential Ashworth? Marcellus had no idea that his son was dating Melissa, or that Gaius was his rival. All he saw was a dispute between two hotheads that had nearly resulted in utter disaster.

And worse, perhaps
, she thought,
if they had managed to kill me
.

“Markus,” she said. “I would like to invite you to breakfast with me tomorrow morning.”

Marcellus turned to face her. “My son will be busy,” he said. “I will find him something unpleasant to do.”

“Father,” Markus said. Something unspoken seemed to pass between them. “I...”

“Very well,” Marcellus said. “You may join Lady Emily for breakfast. But you will not be attending dinner tonight.”

Emily blinked. He had changed his mind that quickly?

“Lady Emily, with your permission, I will keep everyone away from the dinner and dancing tonight,” Marcellus added. “I do not feel it would be a good idea for my family to meet
them
when tempers are still running high.”

“I understand,” Emily said. If nothing else, an evening without dinner and dancing would be a relief. “I will cancel the dance altogether to let tempers cool.”

She looked at Markus. “I will see you tomorrow.”

Markus nodded. “Thank you,” he said.

“You can discuss the nature of the favor you owe her,” Marcellus added, as he turned away. “All hell could have broken loose today.”

Emily nodded, once.

Markus bowed to her. “It will be my honor to perform one favor for you,” he said. “And I thank you for saving us from our darker impulses.”

He turned and followed his father before Emily could think of a response. Markus owed her more than one favor...and both of them had to sit uneasily on him. The magical community insisted that favors had to be repaid, one way or another, and few liked the thought of remaining in debt permanently. He would need to find a way to repay her, she suspected, before he took over as Patriarch. His family would not like him owing a favor to anyone.

She watched the rest of the crowd disperse slowly, muttering amongst themselves. The Ashworths and Ashfalls might be the largest parties here, but they weren’t the only ones. A fight in the Faire would have drawn in other families, eventually ripping the magical society apart into open war. Could the Ashworths and Ashfalls, even combined, resist the remainder of the magical families? Or would the battle at Cockatrice merely be the start of a war with only one possible outcome?

But the necromancers would have laughed
, she thought.
So many magicians killed in a pointless civil dispute
.

“Lady Emily,” Master Grey said. He cast a privacy ward with effortless ease. “I was in the city.”

Emily eyed him, suspiciously. “You were in the city?”

“One of the Ashfall bitches cast a particularly nasty spell on a young man,” Master Grey said. He sounded annoyed at the question. “I had no choice but to go after him and provide assistance. It was not an easy task.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Emily said, tartly. “We nearly saw the start of a fight here.”

“Putting Ashworths and Ashfalls together is like mixing Basilisk Blood with powdered Dragon Scales,” Master Grey reminded her. “I
told
you that, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did,” Emily said.

Master Grey met her eyes. “Then why did you invite them both?”

Emily gritted her teeth. “Because I didn’t keep a close eye on the proceedings,” she said, sharply. Had she even known? The first time she’d heard about the feud had been in Mountaintop, by which time the preparations for the Faire had been well advanced. “And because I didn’t know what I was getting into.”

“And
that
was incredibly careless,” Master Grey said. “In future, I suggest you learn to look before you leap.”

He was right, Emily knew. But it didn’t make it any easier.

“You managed to get yourself entangled in a morass,” Master Grey said. “The Ashworth Heir will be married in five days, at the end of the Faire. I have no doubt that the Ashfalls will do what they can to make it a night to remember — and curse. If you manage to get through that night without spellfire, it will be a miracle.”

He pointed a long finger at her. Emily couldn’t help noticing that it was covered in tiny scars.

“Your carelessness could have cost lives today,” he added. “If you were
my
apprentice, or daughter, I would have dismissed you by now. Your carelessness is becoming legendary...and yet, you are at the heart of destiny itself. You cannot afford to be careless any longer, Lady Emily.”

“I know,” Emily said.

“Then go back to your father and tell him to give you some proper training,” Master Grey snapped. “You need a crash course in everything from etiquette to how best to judge the political implications of your works. Or ask the Grandmaster to get you a
proper
tutor before you make a mistake that gets people killed. Your former Shadow, for example.”

Emily glowered at him. “Where is she?”

“I sent her back to the castle,” Master Grey said. “It was the safest place.”

He dismissed the privacy ward and strode off. Emily watched him go, hastily casting a glamor to hide her feelings. His words had hurt her more than she cared to admit, because he was right. If she’d been paying attention, if she’d known what she was doing, she might have been able to prevent the Faire from becoming a looming disaster. But now she was committed to seeing it through to the bitter end.

She turned as she heard someone walking up behind her. “Emily,” Jade said. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Emily lied. “Where’s Alassa?”

“Waiting in the food tent,” Jade said. “I came as soon as I could.”

His eyes narrowed. He could sense the glamor, even if he couldn’t look past it.

“You’re not all right, are you?”

Emily scowled, inwardly, as they started to walk towards the tent. Jade — and Travis and Cat — had seen her in Martial Magic. They
knew
her reputation was vastly overblown, even though she
had
killed two necromancers. Jade had come to care for her, in a way; Travis had just been a nasty bastard, while Cat had been hugely competitive. But the nastiest thing Travis had ever said to her had been after he’d been replaced by the Mimic.

And Jade could tell when she was upset.

Lucky Alassa
, she thought.
He’ll be there for her when she needs him
.

“Your former master just tore a strip off me,” she said, bitterly. What was wrong with her, she asked herself, that she practically froze when someone was chewing her out? “And he was right.”

“He yelled at me more times than I care to recall,” Jade said. “There were times when I hated him. But he was always right.”

He shrugged. “There’s no room for weakness in a combat sorcerer. Or, really, in any kind of sorcerer.”

“Lady Barb said the same,” Emily said.

“She was right,” Jade told her. “At the end of Fourth Year, you and Caleb will be expected to defend your project to a group of supervisors. They will tear you apart, examine every aspect of your project, force you to repeat yourself over and over again...you’ll hate it. I did.”

They stepped into the tent. It was larger on the inside than Emily had realized, although it didn’t seem to be a pocket dimension. Alassa was sitting at a table, wearing a dark green dress that seemed to draw attention to her long golden hair. A faint glamor surrounded her, hiding her identity from anyone who didn’t already know her; she looked up as Emily approached and smiled. Emily smiled back and sagged into a chair.

“I’ll get the drinks,” Jade said, firmly. “You sit down and relax.”

“You’re a lucky woman,” Emily said, as Alassa reached out and took her hand. “Really, you are.”

“Thank you,” Alassa said. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired and weak,” Emily said. “Yourself?”

“Trying to plan the wedding,” Alassa said. “Would you be interested in being my Maid of Honor?”

Emily held up a hand. “Let me see what the job actually involves before I agree,” she said, quickly. “I’ve managed to get into trouble that way already.”

Alassa smirked. “You’re learning.”

She shrugged. “Basically, your job is to keep me from getting into trouble, organizing the bridesmaids and standing beside me when I give my vows,” she added. “There isn’t much else to do.”

Emily smiled, tiredly. “Let’s see,” she said. “Turn you into something immobile, so you can’t get into trouble; cast compulsion spells on the bridesmaids, so
they
can’t get into trouble...”

“I have to ask every noble-born girl in the kingdom,” Alassa said. “And casting compulsion spells on them would get you into trouble.”

She paused. “Although you might want to consider it anyway. Half of them will be brats, and the other half stuck-up bitches.”

“All of them?” Emily asked, choosing not to remind Alassa that
she’d
been a brat only three years ago. “How many is that?”

Alassa frowned. “Not all of them will be able to come,” she said. “And I may have to prune their numbers if too many
do
come. But you’d have at least fifty to handle.”

Emily blinked. “Fifty? Just fifty?”

“Bridesmaids have to be younger than the bride, by tradition,” Alassa said. “And they can’t be married themselves. They’re also meant to be virgin, but no one asks for fear of the answer.”

“I see,” Emily said. “Let me think about it,
please
.”

Jade returned, carrying a tray of drinks. “Three chocolates,” he said, as he sat down. “And some biscuits.”

“Thank you,” Alassa said. She took one of the mugs and took a sip. “No alcohol, I assume?”

“I checked all three,” Jade said. “Drunkenness at the Faire would not be appreciated.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” Emily said. She took a sip of her own drink and tasted warm melted chocolate mixed with milk. Somehow, it helped her to relax. “My family taught me the dangers of drunkenness.”

“Prig,” Alassa said, without heat. “There’s some amusement to be had when a pair of barons try to drink each other under the table.”

“The apprentices drank themselves senseless last year, after the Faire,” Jade added, thoughtfully. “Master Grey was not amused.”

“I bet he wasn’t,” Emily said. “What did he say?”

“He started out by calling me a stupid idiot, and it went downhill from there,” Jade said. “I had the impression he didn’t forbid me to go, purely so he could tell me off while I had a hangover.”

“Maybe he just wanted you to make your own mistakes,” Emily said. “Lady Barb said the same thing to me, once.”

“You learn by doing,” Jade said. “Or was it different for you?”

Emily shrugged. “I didn’t have the chance to learn anything useful until I came here.”

Sure you did
, her own thoughts mocked.
History. Basic science. Everything else you’ve used to make money here
.

They drank the rest of their chocolate in companionable silence, then Jade rose. “I need to get Alassa back to the castle before nightfall,” he said. “Emily?”

“Tell Bryon we’re cancelling the formal dinner and dance,” Emily said. “The guests can be served in the Great Hall, if they don’t want to eat down here.”

Alassa lifted her eyebrows. “And yourself?”

“I’ll stay here for a bit,” Emily said. “I need to think.”

“A terrible habit,” Jade said, dryly. He helped Alassa to her feet, and smiled at Emily. “Good luck.”

Emily watched them go, feeling an odd twinge of envy. She didn’t want Jade — that had been settled a long time ago — but she would have liked someone to be with her. And yet...who would put up with her?

She glanced up as someone loomed over her. “Lady Emily,” he said. “Please, could I join you?”

Chapter Thirty-One

E
MILY STUDIED THE NEWCOMER FOR A
long moment, before nodding and motioning to the stool facing her. He was tall, but fat, easily the fattest man she’d ever seen. Indeed, he was so large that she couldn’t help wondering if the stool could take his weight. His face was almost entirely hidden behind a bushy ginger moustache, which waggled invitingly as he sat down and smiled at her. She’d seen hundreds of strange outfits on magicians in the past, ranging from dark robes to chainmail bikinis, but she had to admit the newcomer wore the strangest outfit she could recall. He wore a golden hat, a pink shirt, orange trousers and strange, frilly shoes.

Maybe he’s color blind
, she thought, as the newcomer settled down.
Or maybe he’s trying to make people underestimate him.

“Lady Emily,” the newcomer said. “I knew your father when we were young.”

Emily had to smile. “What would you like to be called?”

“You may call me...oh, most people call me Fatty,” the man said, without any trace of the horror someone from Earth would have felt at the word. “It’s as good a name as any.”

Emily frowned. “
Just
Fatty?”

“If you like,” Fatty said. He slapped his chest, which wobbled like a plate of jelly. “Your father is a gaping emptiness, while I am pleasantly plump.”

“My father never mentioned you to me,” Emily said. “I don’t know anything about his life before I was born.”

“He never talks about his past,” Fatty said. “But I didn’t really come to talk about him, either.”

Emily nodded, and reached out with her mind, trying to sense the magic surrounding Fatty. He was masking very well, she had to admit, but she could still sense the magic rolling and seething behind his wards. It reminded her of Void, or — perhaps — the Grandmaster. Fat as he was, Fatty was also very powerful.