Love's Labor's Won (7 page)

Emily felt Frieda tense beside her. It wasn’t just that she lacked a title, although Emily understood precisely why someone would find the throne room intimidating; it was the simple reminder of her father, a man who had sold her to Mountaintop as soon as the recruiters came calling. Emily gave her a reassuring glance, then followed Alassa into the throne room, looking neither to the left nor the right as they walked up the carpeted path towards the throne. The back of her neck prickled as she walked, reminding her that everyone would be staring at them, looking for signs of weakness or malleability. Zangaria’s politics were very much a dog-eat-dog universe, she knew; it hadn’t been
that
long since some of the barons had tried to kill the king. The urge to run grew stronger as she stopped at the base of the dais and looked up at the king. Alassa’s father, if anything, seemed to have grown harder in the two years since they’d last met.

He was a powerful, barrel-chested man. Long blonde hair, a shade darker than Alassa’s, hung down from the golden crown perched on his head, while a neat goatee poked down from his chin. His face was stern, projecting the image of a patriarch who had neither fear nor favor, but his eyes were colder than ever before. Emily recalled Aurelius’s warning and shivered, inwardly. King Randor might
like
her, even
respect
her, but he wouldn’t hesitate to
use
her. And he had already been more than willing to use his own daughter.

“We welcome you back to Our Kingdom, my daughter,” Randor said, as Alassa dropped to one knee. “Your throne awaits you.”

Alassa rose, then walked forward and climbed onto the dais. A simple golden throne, almost a chair, was positioned next to the king’s throne. She turned in one smooth motion, sat down and smiled at the crowd. They cheered so loudly the entire room seemed to shake.

“Baroness Emily, We welcome you back to Our Kingdom,” Randor said. His gaze moved over Emily’s face as she knelt, then to Frieda. “And who is this you have brought with you?”

“This is my friend,” Emily said, flatly. It had taken a week of messages exchanged between Alassa and her father to come up with a formula for introducing Frieda to the court. She couldn’t be Emily’s sister or daughter because she was no blood relation, but she couldn’t be introduced as a commoner because she was a magician. “I bid you welcome her to your court.”

King Randor rose slowly to his feet, taking a step forward. Emily reminded herself that she’d faced two necromancers and remained where she was, forcing down the urge to rise to her feet or to run. She hated being on her knees in front of anyone, particularly someone used to getting whatever he wanted. King Randor peered down at her for a long moment, then moved his gaze to Frieda. Emily sensed, more than saw, Frieda freeze like a mouse caught in a spotlight.

“We welcome you to Our Court,” Randor said, finally. He stepped backwards and sat back on the throne. “You may rise.”

Emily rose, gratefully. “I thank you, your majesty,” she said.

“There will be a meeting of the barons tomorrow morning,” King Randor added, smoothly. “You will attend, of course.”

“Yes, your majesty,” Emily said. She groaned, inwardly. If she’d known just how many obligations had come with the barony, she would have turned it down in front of the whole court. “I will attend.”

Randor greeted Imaiqah, who took the whole process in stride, then motioned for Emily and the rest of the girls to stand to one side. Jade stepped forward and bowed, but remained on his feet. Emily felt a hot flash of envy — the social protocols for qualified sorcerers made them the equals of anyone else — and then watched, curiously, as the king met Jade’s eyes and held them. She couldn’t help wondering if they would have started to arm-wrestle if they had been alone.

“My daughter informs me you wish to become a Court Wizard,” Randor said. “Do you feel qualified to serve as my sorcerer?”

Emily blinked in surprise. She’d known that Jade would be accompanying them to Zangaria, but she hadn’t known he intended to become the Court Wizard. God knew King Randor needed someone trustworthy to serve as his wizard...and yet, why Jade? Why a newly-qualified combat sorcerer, just out of his apprenticeship, when there were more experienced magicians out there? Someone like Lady Barb? Or, even though she hated to admit it, someone like Master Grey?

“I do, your majesty,” Jade said.

There was a long pregnant pause. “Then we will see, young man,” King Randor said. His tone was light, but his eyes never left Jade’s face. “Please, join us at the high table for dinner. I would see what you are made of.”

Imaiqah poked Emily in the side. “Can you see the queen?”

Emily frowned, then looked around. Queen Marlena should have been sitting beside her husband, if on a lower throne, but there was no sign of her. None of her letters had mentioned an illness, or something else that would have kept her from greeting her daughter; everything she’d written had suggested she was looking forward to seeing Alassa and her friends again. Emily glanced back at the king, who was dismissing his court, then at Alassa. Her face was tightly controlled, but Emily could tell she was worried.

We have to keep acting like noblewomen here
, she thought, as the crowd started moving into the Great Hall.
There will be a chance to talk about it later
.

“It’s dinnertime?” Frieda asked. “We only just had
breakfast
?”

“Time difference,” Emily said. She groaned inwardly. They would probably have something akin to jet lag the following morning. “It’s late afternoon here.”

The Great Hall seemed larger than she remembered, she noted as they were shown to their seats. As before, there were ten huge wooden tables, one set higher than the others, but they all seemed to be larger, with more places laid for the guests. Emily rolled her eyes as she and Frieda were escorted to seats three and five and sat down, remembering how the whole event was organized. The closer to the king, who had seat one, the greater the prestige. She would have gladly traded her position with someone else, perhaps one of the barons who looked unhappy at having to suffer the humiliation of sitting in the ninth chair, but she knew that wouldn’t be allowed. The seating plan would have been worked out after months of careful negotiation.

Frieda took her seat and peered at the chair between her and Emily. “Who’s sitting here?”

Emily shrugged. Imaiqah or Jade? No, Imaiqah was seated next to her father, the newly-ennobled Viscount Steam, while Jade was seated on the king’s other side. She wondered, briefly, if King Randor intended to give him a job interview right there and then, then realized it was yet another test. The Court Wizard had to endure much more than merely working spells on the king’s behalf. There would be dinners and ceremonies and hundreds of other boring arrangements that couldn’t be ignored, merely endured.

She looked up as someone pulled the chair away from the table. “Lady Emily,” a very soft voice said. “I believe I am sitting here.”

“Welcome,” Emily said, although she wished she were sitting next to Frieda. “Please, join us.”

The newcomer looked...odd. She had white-blonde hair, skin so pale it was almost translucent and large blue eyes. Her pale blue dress was cut low, revealing the tops of her breasts, and clung neatly to her hips. Emily couldn’t help being reminded of Alassa, save for the fact that while Alassa looked stunningly human, there was something oddly
inhuman
about the newcomer. There was nothing she could put her finger on it, yet it was there.

“I am Alicia, Heiress to the Barony of Gold,” the newcomer said. There was almost no emotion in her voice at all. “I admire you greatly, Lady Emily.”

“Thank you,” Emily said, feeling her face heat. Heiress to the Barony? Baron Gold, the third most powerful nobleman in the kingdom, had been beheaded in the wake of the coup attempt, two years ago. Alicia had to be his daughter. “You’re not the baroness in your own right?”

“No, my lady,” Alicia said. “His Majesty has not yet seen fit to confirm me as baroness.”

Emily studied her for a long moment. King Randor had never liked the idea of a female heir — he’d spent
years
trying to have a son before giving up and accepting that Alassa would be his heir — and he might have denied Alicia the title for the same reason. Or he might have viewed her in the same light as her father, as a potential traitor. Keeping her powerless might be nothing more than self-defense.

But Alicia didn’t look very threatening.

You should know better than to judge by appearances
, she reminded herself, savagely.
Lin didn’t look very threatening either
.

Alassa elbowed Emily, catching her attention. “Mother is apparently unwilling to attend the feast,” she said. “We will be talking to her later.”

Emily blinked. “Unwilling?”

“Apparently,” Alassa said. “Father says we will discuss it later.”

That
was odd, Emily knew. It was rare, very rare, for aristocrats to show any signs of weakness. Lady Barb had been right; the slightest sign of weakness or carelessness would have people licking their lips and hiring assassins, or coming up with cunning plans to take advantage of the weakness. Queen Marlena would have attended a function on her deathbed, if she had to bring her deathbed with her. And now she was absent...

She cast a privacy ward hastily, then leaned forward. “Do you think they’ve had a row?”

“My parents wouldn’t have allowed a fight to get in the way of showing a united front,” Alassa said, scornfully. “That’s what worries me.”

Emily nodded, then dispelled the ward as the servants arrived, each one carrying a colossal plate of food. She felt her stomach clench at the plates of meat, roast potatoes and vegetables, strangely bland compared to the food at Whitehall. Behind them, other servants carried trays of condiments and jugs of gravy, each one strong and thick. She recalled one experiment with mustard she had no intention of repeating and wished, just for a moment, that she was close enough to Frieda to whisper a warning. But she’d never met anything her younger friend couldn’t eat.

She waited, with the others, until everyone was served, then started to eat. As she’d expected, the meat was bland, but the gravy was surprisingly tasty. Emily ate enough to satisfy the hunger pains, then looked around, studying the guests. Alicia ate with a daintiness that surprised Emily, picking at her food as little as possible. Perhaps she just wanted to keep her figure, Emily thought tartly, although she hadn’t seen many fat teenagers in the Nameless World. Beside her, Frieda seemed intent on cramming as much as she could into her mouth before the servants could take it away.

Her table manners need work
, Emily thought, remembering how Alassa had taught her how to handle herself in a royal court.
But she didn’t grow up learning the ropes from her parents
.

Jade was chatting to the king, his words hidden behind a privacy ward. Emily wondered just what they were saying to one another, then looked for Lady Barb in the crowd. The combat sorceress was missing, she realized, after sweeping the tables twice. Maybe she’d gone to visit the queen.

“We will dance, after this,” Alassa said. “And then we will drink potions and sleep.”

Emily nodded. “Do you know what the meeting tomorrow is about?”

“I don’t, but it was put off so you could attend,” Alassa told her. “I suspect it’s probably important.”

“Yeah,” Emily agreed. If it was something that Bryon couldn’t handle, it had to be important. But it was also odd. Randor could have summoned her at any moment, at least after she’d left Mountaintop. Lady Barb could easily have teleported her to Zangaria. “Will you be attending?”

“I don’t think so,” Alassa said. “Tell me about it afterwards, okay?”

Emily blinked. “What sort of meeting is so secret even
you’re
out of the loop?”

“I don’t know,” Alassa said. “Father...has been sharing a lot with me, now I’ve been Confirmed. But I don’t know what this is about.”

“I’ll tell you,” Emily promised. “You can look after Frieda while I’m gone.”

“Mother will want to meet her,” Alassa agreed. “I’ll take Frieda to her room.”

“Thanks,” Emily said. “Would it be terribly wrong of me to skip the dancing and go straight to bed?”

“Probably,” Alassa said. “They all want to know you’re healthy.”

Chapter Six

E
MILY HAD KNOWN, FROM HER FIRST
visit to Castle Alexis, that King Randor had a private set of rooms that were locked and warded away from most of the castle’s residents. He’d even
shown
her a set of such rooms, when she’d first visited the castle. But she’d never known there was a meeting chamber below the throne room, or that it could be entered by stepping through a seemingly solid wall. If one of the king’s private servants hadn’t shown her to the chamber, she knew she would never have seen it at all.

Subtle magic
, she thought, as the rune carved into her chest burned uncomfortably.
Not enough to be dangerous, but enough to keep this room hidden unless someone is shown how to reach it
.

It was surprisingly bland, compared to the throne room. A large portrait of Alexis I, the founder of the kingdom, hung on the far wall, while the other two held maps of Alexis City and Zangaria itself, respectively. A wooden table was placed in the center of the room, surrounded by hard wooden chairs. King Randor, she assumed, had the only chair that had a comfortable seat, probably intended to help remind the noblemen of their place. Besides, it would also ensure that meetings didn’t last very long. She’d sat on enough hard wooden chairs at school to know it was never pleasant.

She kept her face impassive as the other barons eyed her, their faces under equally tight control. There were only four barons in the kingdom now, including Emily herself; Alicia, it seemed, had not been invited to the meeting. None of them liked Emily or trusted her, she knew, even though they feared her power. To them, she was the person who had defeated the coup and killed some of their friends and allies, even though it hadn’t been
Emily
who’d executed them after the coup had failed. They thought of her, she suspected, as someone between a tattletale and an agent of chaos.