Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (39 page)

Emily stared at her. “Why…?”

“Because he would have been regent, if the king died before Alassa reached her majority,” Lady Barb said, tiredly. “Go now. I will send for you when we know what we’re doing.”

Emily nodded once and left the dungeons. Behind her, she sensed a faint surge of magic and hoped that Lady Barb would ensure that Trajas was safe. He
had
tried to kill her, but he’d been obeying the orders of his superior. And that
was
a workable defense in a medieval society. The duke’s men were sworn to obey his orders, even if they were unpleasant or outright crimes against humanity. Hell, they didn’t even have a concept of crimes against humanity.

Alassa is going to hate me
, she thought numbly, as she walked up the stairs. A handful of maids caught her eye and curtseyed, then looked surprised as Emily ignored them.
I keep turning her country upside down
.

L
ADY BARB CAME FOR HER TWO
hours later.

“The king has summoned his brother to the grand hall,” Lady Barb said, as soon as she stepped inside. “You will be there when the duke is challenged.”

Emily nodded. She’d spent the time working on personal protective spells, wrapping them into the wards that surrounded her. They were more complex than the standard wards she’d been taught to ward off practical joke hexes and jinxes, and they drew on her power, but there was no real choice. The next attack might be lethal. And if the attackers used enchanted blades, it might still be lethal.

Lady Barb looked her up and down, then nodded. “In the event of anything unexpected happening,” she added, “follow my lead. If it really
is
the duke, he’ll have a contingency plan to deal with early discovery.”

“Understood,” Emily said, although she had no idea what they would do then. The duke was the only nobleman allowed more than two hundred personal armsmen. And he was the commander of the Royal Army. If he’d decided to rebel, it could get very nasty. “Is he coming?”

“Apparently,” Lady Barb said. She walked over to the door and stopped, her hand on the handle. “And
don’t
talk to
anyone
about this, apart from the royal family and myself. They need to show a united front to the barons.”

Emily rolled her eyes at that as she followed Lady Barb down the stairs and into the Great Hall.
Someone
had been making frantic preparations in a hurry, for there were several dozen guardsmen outside and a handful of magicians. Zed stood at their head, looking annoyed at being dragged away from his work; there was no sign of Brain anywhere. The Court Wizard gave Emily a nasty look as he caught her eye, then ignored her as Lady Barb led her into the throne room. Alassa was standing beside her father’s throne, looking worried.

“Stand over there,” Lady Barb ordered, pointing to the corner nearest the throne. “And keep your mouth shut, unless you are spoken to.”

King Randor looked badly worried. His expression as he saw Emily was unreadable, but she couldn’t help wondering if he blamed her for the upheaval too. If his brother
was
plotting against him, the plot might be on the very verge of success; armed guards, loyal to the duke rather than the King, might be on their way to secure the castle. Emily was the bearer of bad news rather than the bad news herself, but would that really matter? It was only human to blame the messenger.

She pulled herself upright and waited, concentrating on the pose the sergeants had hammered into their heads. Remain calm, they’d ordered; don’t waste a single motion. She clasped her hands behind her back and steadied her breathing, quietly readying magic just in case it was necessary. This time she was
not
going to freeze up, or be taken by surprise.

“Your Majesty,” the herald boomed. “His Grace the Duke of Iron!”

The Duke of Iron looked formidable, Emily realized, even though he also looked thoroughly unhappy. His scabbard hung loosely from his belt, demonstrating that he was unarmed; Emily wondered, absently, just how carefully the guards had searched him. Sergeant Harkin had carried nearly thirty different weapons on his body, she’d been told, and most of them had consisted of devices that were not immediately recognizable as dangerous. His tunic could conceal anything from a knife to a length of steel wire, ready to use as a makeshift garrotte. And if he
was
a sorcerer…

He didn’t
feel
like a sorcerer, Emily decided. There was no sense of barely restrained power, or the hints of instability she’d sensed on other powerful magicians. But magic
was
woven into the Royal Bloodline; Alassa could become a sorceress, if she had the time to concentrate on studying magic. Could her uncle have studied magic in secrecy?

His wife accompanied him, her eyes glancing from side to side nervously. She looked as if she couldn’t decide if she should be holding her head up high or throwing herself on the ground in front of the king, begging for mercy. Emily felt a flicker of pity for the young woman; she simply seemed too young to really understand what was going on. Her husband was in deep trouble and she didn’t understand why.

“Your Majesty,” the duke said, in a surprisingly deep voice. “You have summoned me and I have come.”

Emily frowned. It didn’t
sound
as though the duke knew he was in trouble, but anyone who had spent years in a royal court would be a skilled dissembler. He could make his voice suggest whatever he wanted it to suggest. And yet there was a hint that suggested innocence, and puzzlement, and…

If the duke is innocent
, she asked herself,
what does it mean
?

“We have called you here to address a difficult situation,” King Randor said. “Word has reached Us that several of your guardsmen were implicated in an attack on the Lady Emily. When interrogated, the guardsmen claimed to have been given instructions by you personally, even though you are aware that the Lady Emily is Our guest and therefore protected by Our will.”

His voice darkened. “We must ask you now,” he continued, “if you issued such orders. Did you order your men to kill the Lady Emily?”

The duke threw Emily a sharp glance, then looked back at his brother. “I issued no orders to kill the Lady Emily,” he said. “I issued no orders to injure her, or to scare her.”

King Randor studied his brother for a long moment. “The Lady Emily was with her friend Imaiqah, Daughter of Lin,” he said. “Did you issue orders to bring any harm to her or her family?”

“No,” the Duke of Iron said. There was a cold note to his voice. “I do not sneak around like a common footpad. My opinion of the changes the Lady Emily has brought to your kingdom is well known, but I would not order anyone assassinated to forestall change.”

“Which leads to the next question,” King Randor said. He never took his eyes off his brother. “What do you think of the Lady Emily?”

Emily flushed, despite herself.

“I think that she has meddled in matters that are none of her concern,” the Duke of Iron said, coldly. “I think that she is a most unsuitable companion for the crown princess. I think that she is dangerous; she defeated a necromancer and refused to tell the Allied Lands how she did it. I think that she should be sent back to Whitehall where she belongs.”

The Duke of Iron didn’t look embarrassed at having the truth dragged out of him. “I have always been loyal to you, my brother,” he said, crossly. “Why are you interrogating me like a common criminal?”

“The report had to be checked,” King Randor said. “Are you planning to usurp Our throne?”

“I am not,” the duke said, simply.

There was a long pause. “We are sorry for interrogating you,” King Randor said, finally. “We trust that you understand Our position in such matters.”

He looked at the duke’s wife. “Lithia, Duchess of Iron, We thank you for your presence here,” he said. “You and your husband may depart.”

“I wish to face my challenger,” the Duke of Iron said. There was a harsh note to his voice that made Emily cringe inwardly. “This is slander against a member of the Royal Bloodline and, as such, punishable by death. I will face him or her”–he threw Emily another unreadable look–“on the field of honor.”

“The investigation has yet to be completed,” King Randor said. “You may go.”

The Duke of Iron bowed–his wife curtseyed–and backed out of the room. He couldn’t turn his back on King Randor, Emily realized. She watched him go, then looked up at the King. He didn’t look happy at all.

“He was telling the truth,” he said, addressing Lady Barb. “I could
feel
it within the Bloodline.”

“The truth spells agreed that he was telling the truth,” Lady Barb agreed, coolly. “I checked…”

The king glared at her. “You cast truth spells on my brother?”

“Technically, I cast them into the air,” Lady Barb countered. “And I swore to protect you and your family. Protecting you from him and protecting him from false accusations are part of the oath.”

“I see,” the king said, dangerously. “And what of your guardsman?”

“He was also telling the truth,” Lady Barb said. “He genuinely believed that the duke had sent him with orders to murder Lady Emily.”

“They cannot
both
be telling the truth,” King Randor pointed out.

Emily frowned, remembering a comic strip she’d once read. Captain Kirk had been stabbed–and, when he’d recovered, he’d blamed one of his crewmen. The crewman had denied the charge–and the telepath who’d investigated had claimed that he was telling the truth. They’d
both
been telling the truth…eventually, the crew had discovered that a shape-shifter had impersonated the crewman, ensuring that no one would look for him. Only sheer coincidence had allowed the real assassin to be uncovered before he could try again.

And then there had been Harry Potter’s attempt to impersonate one of his fellow pupils.

“The guardsman wouldn’t be familiar with the duke,” she said, slowly. “Could someone have impersonated him?”

“That would
be against the law,” Lady Barb said, deadpan. “You mean someone could have used a glamor to pretend to be the duke?”

Emily nodded. “And perhaps a hint of compulsion as well, to override any doubts they might have,” she added. “Besides, if the guardsmen were junior enough, they wouldn’t question his orders anyway. They’d believe that they were following orders from legitimate authority. The truth spells can only tell what someone
believes
to be true.”

“It’s possible,” Lady Barb said. “And yet…if the guardsmen were issued their orders in the barracks, whoever issued them had to be capable of breaking into the castle.”

“Or was invited,” King Randor said, darkly. “One of the barons, intent on taking the throne for himself, might have managed to issue the orders while waiting for an audience.”

“A simple glamor might well have escaped notice,” Lady Barb agreed. “How many noblewomen have glamors to hide unsightly features?”

“You will continue to investigate,” King Randor ordered. “And… Lady Emily?”

Emily gulped. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“The confirmation ceremony takes place in a week,” King Randor said. “Try not to upset anyone else before then.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Emily said, flushing.

“And several of our young bucks have made known their interest in you,” the king added, clearly enjoying Emily’s discomfort. “If you want to get married…”

He laughed at Emily’s expression. “Refer them to your guardian,” he suggested. “After all, you are clearly not yet ready to carve out an independent life.”

Emily nodded. Anyone who tried to negotiate with Void would find it a maddening task. At best, he’d just tell them that he couldn’t approve the match–after making them waste time trying to convince him to support their proposal. Alternatively, he’d simply ignore their letters in the hopes that they’d go away.

“And Nightingale wishes to brief you on the etiquette for the Confirmation,” the king concluded. “You may speak with him in the library.”

Emily curtseyed and backed out of the room, silently grateful for the times Alassa had made her practice. Walking backwards wasn’t easy; she had no idea how Duchess Lithia had managed to walk in a dress without tripping over herself. Once the door closed, she turned and walked towards the library, mulling over what she’d heard. If the mastermind behind the assassination attempts wasn’t the Duke of Iron, who
was
it?

He should have asked the duke if he was a sorcerer
, Emily realized, as she reached the library.
We could have checked that too
.

Could the duke have found a way to defeat the Royal Bloodline? The king placed a great deal of faith in it–and why not? He had presumably been unable to lie to his father too, just like Alassa. What if the truth-telling effect no longer worked once the previous Bloodline Prime had died? Could there be an exception to the rule and the alchemists had simply missed it?