Schooled in Magic (13 page)

“So tell me,” Alassa said, lifting one finger and holding it up in front of Emily’s face. “Where
do
you come from?”

Emily shook her head, bracing herself for a beating–or worse.

But Alassa merely smiled.

“I see by your face that you are of low birth,” she said, her tone twisting into one of wry amusement. “Come! It is nothing to be ashamed of, being born amid the mud and squalor. Serving your betters is your natural function. Come be my friend.”

Her mockery dug into Emily’s composure. She’d grown up in a democratic society, where even the most arrogant of politicians knew better than to risk raising the ire of too many voters. She’d never really understood what it must be like to be born in a society where birth determined social standing. Alassa seemed so completely comfortable with the idea that inferiors served superiors because she had never had to question it. Her kingdom’s peasants and tradesmen existed to obey the orders of her family.

Come be her friend? Emily looked at Alassa and knew what that meant. She’d be nothing more than a crony, singing the praises of Princess Alassa and encouraging her to bully other students–and always fearful that Alassa would turn on her. Or she would be expected to do the Princess’s homework for her, or whatever other humiliating tasks Alassa wanted her to do. Being friends with someone like Alassa was like being trapped near a lion, throwing other victims into the beast’s mouth in the hopes that it would eat you last. A lion would probably be more honest than someone with more royal blood than sense.

“Thank you, but no,” Emily said. Alassa wanted her to crawl–of that, there was no doubt–but Emily had enough pride to refuse to bend. Besides, Emily had nearly been killed by a necromancer the day she’d arrived in this world. Alassa was nothing more than a bully–and a bully was nothing compared to a necromancer. “Now, if you will excuse me...”

The girls holding her didn’t let up as Alassa’s face turned an alarming shade of red. “You dare refuse me? You dare ... !”

Emily felt another hot flash of rage as she started to struggle. Alassa’s hand was touching her wand; magic was starting to shimmer around her, as if she were about to cast a spell. But her cronies were holding Emily too tightly for her to escape ...

But something didn’t quite add up. Someone like Alassa would have no qualms about squashing a low-born girl, just as she’d bullied Imaiqah in the past. So why was she even
trying
to turn Emily into an ally?

The answer, when it came, struck with the force of a physical blow. Emily had arrived on a dragon, which suggested that she was
important
–and someone who took birth and social standing too seriously would wonder if Emily was actually more important than her. Or if Emily was the sort of person she ought to convince to join her. Professor Locke had pointed out that the Allied Lands were disunited. Emily suspected that Alassa–and others like her–were a large part of the reason
why
the Allied Lands were unable to unite against a common foe.

Alassa was
scared
of her, Emily realized. The only person Emily knew who had been able to summon a dragon, let alone convince it to give a new student a flight to Whitehall, had been an immensely powerful sorcerer, Void. Alassa had to wonder if Emily was more powerful than her, perhaps even powerful enough to trump her royal birth. No wonder she’d brought so many cronies to the confrontation. If Emily had enough power and skill to beat her, Alassa would have to have her friends to back her up.

“Yes,” Emily said, before she could think better of it. “I dare.”

The sense of magic grew stronger as Alassa lifted her wand, threateningly. “Crawl,” she ordered. The girls holding Emily loosened their grip as Alassa’s voice became a croon. “Crawl for me; lick my boots, beg my forgiveness...”

“No,” Emily said flatly. She pulled her hands free, bracing herself. How had that protective spell gone again? Panic was making it harder to think properly. “Let me go!”

Alassa moved her wand and a spell shimmered into existence. It sparkled menacingly in front of Emily, just before she managed to perform the counter-charm. Alassa didn’t look surprised when the spell dispelled back into nothingness; instead, she lifted her wand again and began a second spell. Emily lunged forward and grabbed at the wand, pulling it away from the bully. Magic spun into existence around them both, sparkling with deadly potential.

And then there was a brilliant flash of light and Emily was thrown bodily across the room into the wall. She gasped in pain as she banged her shoulder against the stone, collapsing to the floor. The cronies laughed, hesitantly. They had to wonder if Alassa had
really
meant for that to happen.

“You touched my
wand
! Alassa snapped, her face red with answer. “You...”

She cast a second spell before Emily could move. This time, Emily was unable to dispel it before it struck her body. She could
feel
it crawling over her, working Alassa’s will, even though she couldn’t tell what it was doing. Surely Alassa couldn’t turn her into a frog, or a slug, or something unable to move and talk. Surely ...

“Come,” Alassa snapped. It took Emily a moment to realize that she was talking to her cronies. “Enjoy yourself,
peasant
!”

She watched them go from where she was lying on the floor, allowing them to close the door before she tried to stand up. Almost immediately, her legs jerked of their own accord and she fell back to the ground. Her lower body twitched constantly as the spell wove its way into the magic field surrounding her, making it impossible for her to do more than crawl. She tried to stand up again, holding one of the tables in the hopes that it would wear off quickly, but the sensation spread into her arms and she found herself falling back again.

Emily realized in horror that Alassa’s spell would keep her down until the bullies returned, or until someone tried to use the classroom for lessons. It was impossible to stand up, let alone walk, as long as her legs kept jerking of their own accord.

You’ve been hexed, you idiot
, Emily thought sharply. She
felt
the spell pressing in around her, constantly sparking with magic as she tried to move.
And you know how to dispel hexes
.

She concentrated, trying to cast the spell that Mistress Irene had taught her. The first time, she failed, feeling the strength draining out of her as she lay on the ground. Hot tears of humiliation and rage stung her cheeks. Angrily, she tried to climb to her feet, only to be knocked down once again. Alassa’s spell seemed to be growing stronger, making it impossible to crawl further than a few feet; in some ways, being turned into an inanimate object would be less embarrassing. Her body could no longer be trusted.

Angry thoughts burned through her mind.
And you’re going to stay on the ground and take it
? It was a bitter pill to swallow, but in truth she’d never seriously considered trying to convince Void–or anyone else–to send her home. Life in a magical world had seemed more attractive than anything waiting for her in the cold sterile world that had given her birth, but now she wasn’t so sure. All she knew was that she had to get up and fight the bullies, or they would win ...

Frustrated, she tried to cast the counter-spell again, and again, but she failed both times. However, casting the spell the second time allowed her to sense how Alassa’s spell had blurred into the magic field. Naturally, the bully had mastered a spell intended to be more humiliating than harmful–and improved it to the point where it wasn’t so easy to dispel. Emily closed her eyes and reached out with her mind, trying to remember the sensation of touching spells from her first lessons, six hours ago. The spell glittered in her mind’s eye, a spinning construction of magic words put together to create something far greater than the sum of its parts. And yet she could see the spell’s construction clearly now.

Carefully, she cast the counter-spell one final time, concentrating on the weak points in Alassa’s hex. There was a brief moment when she thought that she had failed again, but then, thankfully, the hex simply snapped out of existence.

Emily lay on the floor for a long moment, feeling her heart thumping inside her chest. Them, somehow, she pulled herself to her feet. Her legs still felt wobbly, but at least the unnatural twitching was gone. She staggered over to a chair and collapsed into it, feeling sweat trickling down her back as her head collapsed onto the desk. Happiness and relief warred with fear in her mind. Alassa and her cronies could have beaten Emily half to death while she’d been affected by the spell and she wouldn’t have been able to fight them off.

She was exhausted, but her mind refused to rest. She’d thought she’d understood the dangers, yet she hadn’t, not really. The Grandmaster wouldn’t have issued a warning against nationalism if it hadn’t been a major problem–and someone like Alassa would have plenty of enemies from other kingdoms, people who considered themselves to be her social equals, or superiors. Back home, the most popular girls and boys had always had followers, cliques that hoped some of their glamour and popularity would rub off on them. Here, where birth was important ... there had to be more than one major group of bullies, if only because others would need to form gangs of their own merely to survive. And
she
was alone, defenseless. No one would come to her aid. The bullies could do whatever they liked to her.

And then there was Shadye, of course.
He
wanted to kill her.

You’ll have to learn faster
, she thought bitterly. Alassa had beaten her through superior magic skill; Emily would have to learn to beat her, whatever it took. Mistress Irene had unlocked Emily’s magic. Now, Emily would have to learn on her own. There was a library, she’d been told. Surely it would have books that would teach her how to defend herself. Surely...

The door opened and Emily looked up in alarm. If the bullies had come back - no, it was a middle-aged tutor, peering at Emily in some surprise. She looked rather like an older version of Emily’s mother, with black hair tied in a bun and a permanently grim expression. The robe she wore was yellow and black, reminding Emily of bees and wasps. Emily had to fight to keep the amusement off her face.

“Is there a reason,” the tutor demanded, “why you’re in my classroom?”

Emily hesitated. She could tell the truth, but that would be tattling. It wouldn’t solve anything in the long run, not really. Besides, Alassa had been at the school for months, perhaps years, and the tutors hadn’t yet slapped her down. They might have found it diplomatically impossible to punish a royal princess. For all Emily knew, Alassa had grown up in a kingdom that insisted royal children had to have whipping children, boys and girls from poor families who were whipped whenever their royal charges misbehaved.

“I needed to sit down,” she said finally. “I ...”

“You have a bedroom for resting,” the tutor snapped, interrupting Emily. She walked over to her desk and produced a box of mirrors. “Seeing as you wish to be here, you can place one of these mirrors on each of the desks. Or you can report to the Hall of Shame for detention.”

Emily stood up and took the box. The mirrors were small, barely larger than her hand, yet the moment her fingers touched them she felt a flicker of magic. Looking at her reflection, she nearly jumped out of her skin when her reflection winked at her. A moment later, the image shifted, revealing a dark-skinned woman with deep black eyes.

“Put them on the tables,” the tutor ordered impatiently. “Class starts in seven minutes.”

Emily flushed. Alassa had intended to humiliate her in front of an entire class of students . If Whitehall was anything like the other schools she’d known, word would have been all over the school in an hour. Everyone would have heard about the new girl who’d arrived on a dragon; they’d hear about how she’d been hexed and waited helplessly until someone arrived to help. But she’d freed herself ...

Shaking her head, she passed out the mirrors, refusing to look into them again. Instead, she passed the box back to the tutor and made her escape into the corridors, heading back to her bedroom. Her head was spinning and she definitely needed to lie down before she went to the library.

“I
’M SORRY ABOUT HER,” IMAIQAH SAID,
twenty minutes later. She’d been in the bedroom when Emily had entered and thrown herself down on the bed. “She’s a...”

Imaiqah shrugged helplessly, unable to find a suitable word.

Emily smiled, despite the exhaustion crippling her body. “A right royal pain in the bum?”

Imaiqah flushed. “Yes,” she agreed finally. “She hasn’t managed to test out of half of the basic classes and she’s
still
a pain.”

Imaiqah had asked Emily what had happened and Emily had told her, although she wasn’t entirely sure why she’d told her friend everything. Part of her wanted to keep it to herself.

“Oh,” Emily said. A moment later, she realized what Imaiqah had said. “Test out of the basic classes?”

“Everyone has different levels of power and skill,” Imaiqah pointed out, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. The teachers Emily had known back home wouldn’t have admitted that out loud, even if they’d had to come up with complex explanations for why something that was so evidently true was actually false. “You must have noticed that some of the students in your first class were much older than you.”