Love's Labor's Won (48 page)

Then I need a new castle
, she thought. It was annoying, but it had to be considered. Part of her still wanted to give up the barony, to walk away from Zangaria; part of her knew she could do a great deal more good with land and property under her direct control.
And I will have to talk the king into letting me build one
.

It wouldn’t be easy. A castle was a symbol of strength — and dominance. If she held the castles in her land, she would dominate the land, perhaps even hold it against the king. There would be no shortage of reasons for Randor to refuse to allow her to build a new one, including fears of inciting the other barons to demand new castles of their own. But she needed somewhere she could ward properly, if she wanted to live there permanently. It was a minor miracle nothing of great importance had been stolen.

She looked up as someone knocked on the door. “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Alassa, wearing a long white dress and a golden necklace that sparked with protections of one kind or another. Jade must have made it, Emily guessed, feeling a tinge of envy. It must be nice to have
someone
looking out for you, someone who cared for you as more than just a friend. Would he have been so considerate to her, she wondered, or would their relationship have been different? But there was no point in worrying about it now.

“I just received a note from my father,” Alassa said. “He wants to see us all back at Alexis.”

She swallowed, nervously. “This could be it, Emily.”

“The moment you tell your father you want to marry a common-born sorcerer,” Emily said, with some amusement. “Are you going to show more nerve than Melissa?”

Alassa shot her a sharp look. “I hope it won’t come to screamed accusations and banishment,” she said. “I missed the last part of the show. Jade dragged me out.”

“Good for him,” Emily said. She dreaded to think what would have happened if Alassa had been caught in the crossfire and killed. Zangaria had no other heir, no one else who could take the throne without starting a civil war. “What would have happened to Zangaria if you’d died?”

“It would have been bad,” Alassa said. She sat down, primly. “My father should want me to get married as soon as possible. Jade...is the best candidate we have.”

“He might not even let you return for Fourth Year,” Emily said. She recalled Lady Barb saying that Alassa might be expelled, just to avoid having to put her exam results on the record. “And make you start churning out children immediately.”

Alassa scowled. “I hope we
can
have children. But I can always find someone to adopt if worst comes to worst.”

Emily winced. “I’m sure you will be fine,” she lied. The Royal Bloodline was immensely complex and the Alchemists who’d designed it hadn’t really known what they were doing. It was quite possible that King Randor’s near-barrenness had been passed down to his daughter, eventually guaranteeing the extinction of his line. “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with Jade.”

“I saw his records,” Alassa said. “He’s a healthy young man, only a few years older than me.”

“And he can presumably sire children,” Emily said. “You should be fine.”

Alassa nodded. “Emily, there was an additional note for you,” she added, as she held out a scrap of parchment. “Lady Barb is waiting in Alexis.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. Lady Barb could teleport. There was nothing stopping her from jumping all the way to Cockatrice, rather than heading to Alexis and meeting Emily there, once Emily had traveled back to the city. It was odd, to say the least. What had Lady Barb been doing that had called her away from Cockatrice? And why had it also caught up Sergeant Miles?

Or was it a trick of some kind? An attempt to lure her out of the castle?

She took the note and checked it. Lady Barb had taught her how to sign her name — and, more importantly, how to read other signatures. Lady Barb had written the note, Emily confirmed rapidly, and she had done so of her own free will. It was no trick.

“I’ll see her there,” she said, although she was unable to escape the feeling that her life was about to change, once again. “Do you know if I will be coming back here?”

Alassa shrugged.

“I was under the impression you were going to go back to school early,” she said. “But isn’t this a little
too
early?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. She sighed, inwardly. Deliberately or otherwise, King Randor had caused her a whole series of new problems. “The Grandmaster is the one calling the shots.”

She rolled her eyes — she liked the Grandmaster — and then called for Bryon. When he arrived, she gave orders to have her coach prepared for immediate departure and then, on the assumption she would not be returning immediately, resume his duties as her steward. It wouldn’t be hard, now the Faire was over; Bryon could handle all the minor problems, then forward the harder problems to her. She knew she would have to keep a closer eye on what was happening, in future, but she had no idea when she would find the time. Perhaps she should join Alassa and leave school after the Fourth Year.

Don’t be stupid
, she told herself, sharply.
Cockatrice will still be here when you graduate from Whitehall.

They found Frieda in her rooms, reading an elaborate story written by a man who claimed to have sailed around the entire world. Emily had glanced at it, back when it had first been printed, but she’d had some problems believing some of the tales. Encounters with sea monsters were one thing — she knew there were all sorts of strange creatures in the world — but the writer had spent most of the book bragging about his experiences with women of all shapes, sizes, and colors. She was surprised he had managed to find any time for exploration.

“Hey,” Frieda said, sitting up. One of the maids had been busy; instead of her twin ponytails, her hair had been reshaped into an elaborate arrangement that perched neatly on the top of her head. “Where are you going?”

Emily felt a sudden bitter stab of guilt. She’d promised to spend time with Frieda and now she was being called away, again. And she didn’t even know if they were going to return to Cockatrice or not. Frieda could spend the rest of her life in the castle, if she liked, but it wouldn’t be the same. She certainly wouldn’t have anyone to explore the surrounding lands with, let alone study magic.

“Alexis,” she said, shortly. “Would you like to come?”

Alassa poked her arm, gently. “Come with us,” she said. “I can take you hunting, if you like.”

She winked at Frieda. “Emily
hates
hunting.”

Emily shivered. She disliked horses, she disliked riding through the forest...and she really disliked hunting wild boars that weren’t actually wild boars. The tradition of turning criminals into animals and then letting them loose in the royal hunting grounds appalled her, even though Alassa and Imaiqah seemed to take it in stride. She hadn’t realized until much later just how unnatural the boars had been, at the time...

At least Jade didn’t slaughter them with abandon
, she thought. The princes
had
slaughtered the boars, then gone on to hunt deer for the king’s table.
There is that to be said for him, at least
.

“I don’t know where I will be going afterwards,” Emily said. “You could stay here, if you like, or you could go with Alassa.”

“Stay with me,” Alassa said, immediately. “I’ll probably need someone to calm me down after mother starts twittering on about wedding dresses.”

“Your mother treats me as a doll,” Frieda protested. “Last time, she was trying to make me wear a glorified nightgown.”

Alassa laughed. “She did that to me, too,” she said. “And to just about every other young woman who entered the palace. I think Emily was the only one to make her escape.”

Emily snorted. The queen’s enthusiasm for dresses was terrifyingly strong. Emily wouldn’t have minded so much if the queen hadn’t wanted her to undress, practically in public, and don the latest in a set of private creations. There weren’t many people who could say their dresses were made by a queen, but it was an honor she would have gratefully foregone.

“I always said you look like a doll,” she said, mischievously. Alassa did sometimes look like a porcelain doll, although she wasn’t quite as unreal as Barbie. “Dressing you up comes naturally.”

Alassa made a rude gesture, then grinned at Frieda. “Come with us,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”

“Very well,” Frieda said. She clambered off the bed and glanced at herself in the mirror. “Eva will hate me for taking this down.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Emily advised. She’d always disliked it when someone else tried to help her get dressed or do up her hair. “Just make sure you wrap up warm for the trip.”

“And pack a bag of essentials,” Alassa added. “My mother sometimes forgets the basics.”

Emily snorted — there was a whole castle of maids, who would happily find anything Frieda needed — but kept the thought to herself. Instead, she left them to sort out Frieda’s bag and walked back to the room Markus and Melissa were sharing. It was heavily warded, unsurprisingly, with a couple of wards that she wasn’t sure how to remove. Markus had admitted, after he’d been disowned, that there were people in his family — both families — who might do whatever it took to kill them both. He’d wrapped so many protections around them both that nothing short of a whole team of assassins could get to them.

She tapped the ward lightly, and waited. It was nearly five minutes before Markus, wearing nothing more than a towel, opened the door and peered out, suspiciously. Emily blushed and looked away, embarrassed. Casual nudity didn’t sit well with her at all.

“I have to leave the castle,” she said, shortly. “I may not be back before school resumes, but you can remain here until you go to Beneficence. I’ll write to you from Alexis to let you know what’s happening.”

Markus sighed. “Why have you been called away?”

“The king wants to see me,” Emily said. Imaiqah and her family were already in Alexis. It was quite possible that Randor had already interrogated Imaiqah. “And then I may have to go straight to Whitehall.”

“The Grandmaster’s heard about what we did,” Melissa said, walking up behind Markus and clutching his arm. Emily glanced at her and flushed. Melissa was wearing a towel too, which left very little to the imagination. “And he’s mad at us.”

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. “But I just wanted to say goodbye before I left.”

“Be careful,” Markus advised. “And thank you, once again.”

Emily nodded. Markus had sworn the oath, once they’d worked out a suitable wording. He would found the bank for her, then start issuing small loans. And then...she hoped and prayed that nothing went badly wrong. There were so many ways magic could be used to damage the bank’s reputation.

But we have the charmed parchments
, she thought, recalling how Aloha had agreed to let them borrow the concept in exchange for a handful of shares.
And we have other tricks, too
.

“I’ll see you at Whitehall,” she said, addressing Melissa. “And I wish you both every happiness.”

Turning, she walked down to the courtyard. Bryon was waiting for her, along with a number of maids, servants and cooks. They all bowed in unison when they saw Emily, making her cheeks heat once again. She couldn’t allow herself to get used to everyone bowing and scraping, she told herself firmly, or she might wind up yet another aristocratic brat. Who knew what that did to a child, growing up with everyone bowing to him?

You don’t need to guess
, she told herself, as she motioned for Bryon to rise. Thankfully, there had been no time to organize a proper ceremony.
Alassa was more than enough of a warning, when you first met
.

“I’ll be back,” she promised, as she scrambled into the coach. Frieda, Jade and Alassa were already there, Jade and Alassa holding hands. “For now, goodbye.”

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“B
ARONESS EMILY,” KING RANDOR SAID
, as Emily stepped into his private study. “Welcome back.”

Emily nodded, and went down on one knee. “Your majesty,” she murmured. “I thank you.”

It was odd, but she’d never realized just how submissive kneeling could be, at least until she’d had to do it herself. Prostrating oneself was definitely submissive, but even kneeling carried a hundred unfortunate implications, each one darker than the last. By kneeling, she was admitting, at the very least, that the king was her superior...

“You may rise,” King Randor said. “I understand that you wish to speak with me?”

“You summoned me,” Emily said. She took the chair he indicated and sat, clasping her hands together to prevent them from shaking. “I assumed that you wished to speak with me.”

Randor took his own chair, facing her. Even sitting, his presence seemed to dominate the room. It wasn’t magic, as far as she could tell; it was the sheer force of his personality. And yet, there was something about it that offended her sensibilities. She respected Randor, even liked him to some extent...and yet she didn’t think of him as her superior. How could she?

“But I was asked to summon you,” the king said. “I assumed you wished to speak with
me
.”

Emily felt her patience fray. “Alassa wished me to talk about a certain subject with you, yes,” she said, wondering just what game the king was playing. “She must have told you I wanted to speak with you.”

The king smiled. “She did.”

Emily looked up at him and
knew
, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that
he
knew what Alassa had wanted her to say. But how much did he know? He’d carefully
not
asked Alassa any questions that might have brought her new relationship to life. And yet, if he’d been watching her and Jade, he might well have deduced the truth...she shook her head, feeling a headache starting to pound behind her temple. She was in no mood for games.

“She wishes to marry Jade,” Emily said, bluntly. There was no point in spending the next half-hour dancing around the elephant in the room. “I think it would be a very good idea.”