Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (20 page)

Alassa leaned forward. “Truth spells?”

“His mind was damaged,” Hawker said. “He would do chores for the innkeeper, in exchange for bread and board, but there were days when he would shout and scream for no reason at all, or just sit down and refuse to move for hours. Truth spells might not have worked on him.”

“Or made his condition worse,” Emily mused. “Did you not send him to the Halfway House?”

“The locals were adamant he not be shown to any traveling sorcerer,” Hawker said. “Their relationship with the forest has always been more complex than anyone is prepared to admit.”

He shrugged. “No one was prepared to claim him as a relative,” he added. “It’s possible he might have been lying, for some reason, but there’s no way to know for sure.”

Emily put the matter at the back of her mind for future contemplation, then listened as Randor chatted to Hawker, slowly putting the bigger man at ease. She’d never considered Beast Hunting as a career, but she could see why it was considered necessary. Some of the beasts Hawker had hunted and killed were very dangerous, particularly the giant spiders and warped men. The latter combined human intelligence with a chilling sadism that terrified everyone who encountered them.

It’s a great deal easier to be against hunting
, she thought dryly,
when one isn’t at risk from the prey
.

She scowled, inwardly. She’d had nightmares about the day Alassa and her suitors had taken her boar-hunting, three years ago; they’d hunted wild boars that had turned out to be transformed criminals and thought nothing of it. But even then,
real
wild boars were dangerous pests to the peasants. Protecting them from harm would only lead to ruined crops and destroyed lives.

Imaiqah nudged her as she looked at Galina. “How did you become a Chirurgeon, anyway?”

Galina smiled, showing a flicker of inner strength. “My father was one of the best Chirurgeons in the world,” she said. “It was a great disappointment to him that both of his sons insisted on becoming farmers, rather than Chirurgeons themselves. I was the only one of his children willing to learn, so he taught me instead. And when he died on campaign, I stepped into his role.”

Emily blinked. “And he taught you? Just like that?”

“There are no formal schools for Chirurgeons,” Galina said, dryly. “My father always used to say we should get organized, but there was a great deal of opposition from some of the others. The only thing that made me qualified was his training, and the only thing that kept me in the role was being good at it.”

Emily winced. She’d read too much about medical care in the past to feel anything but fear if she fell into the hands of an unmagical Healer. The Nameless World might know more about medicine than Earth had, at least before the nineteenth century, but without magic their options were limited. Broken limbs had to be reset by force, operations had to be carried out without anaesthetics and there was a very real risk of infection, even though local doctors knew about the existence of germs. One of the midwives she’d met, during her lessons, hadn’t even bothered to wash her hands before delivering a child.

Imaiqah nodded. “Where did you meet your husband?”

Galina colored, lightly. “I patched him up after he was nearly killed by a basilisk. We started walking out together shortly afterwards. And then I gave up my role and followed him as he hunted more and more dangerous monsters. We married a year later.”

She shook her head. “There’s only so many people you can watch die before you just give up,” she added. “I held too many young hands as they died, calling for their mothers, knowing there was nothing I could do to save them.”

No magic
, Emily reminded herself. If Lady Barb had been seen as a potential Healer because her mother had taught her the basics a long time before she saw Whitehall, Galina would probably have rated the same level of attention if she’d had magic.
All she could do was watch some of them die
.

“I think you should be proud of your son,” Queen Marlena said. Emily hadn’t even realized she was listening. “He’s strong, decent and capable.”

“I am,” Galina said. She smiled at Jade, who looked embarrassed. “I’m
very
proud of him.”

Randor nodded in agreement, then looked at Hawker. “Have you thought about where you’ll live after the wedding?”

“We don’t have a fixed home,” Hawker said. “We prefer to keep moving.”

“I always need reliable agents,” Randor said, seriously. “And many of the people you’d meet would assume you spoke for me.”

“Only if you wanted someone to hunt monsters within your kingdom,” Hawker said. “I don’t have the patience to make nice with people.”

Randor smiled. “The
real
monsters walk on two legs,” he commented. “And sometimes they need to be beheaded.”

Emily glanced at him, sharply. What was he doing? And what was he actually
saying
?

Marlena rose. “I need to be up early tomorrow,” she said. Emily felt a flicker of disappointment at how neatly she’d cut off her husband’s words. “And so do many of you.”

“Of course, of course,” Randor said. Emily wondered, suddenly, if he’d signaled her to end the gathering. They’d been a team ever since they’d married. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”

Emily nodded, relieved, and followed Imaiqah out of the room.

“E
MILY,” IMAIQAH CALLED, AS EMILY HURRIED
into the practice hall. “There’s a dress for you with the tailors. Go get into it, would you?”

Emily sighed. She hadn’t slept well -- she had a feeling she’d need to go back to the spellchamber later in the day, as her head was already starting to pound -- and breakfast had been unsatisfactory. But Imaiqah was already turning to a stern-faced girl who looked inclined to put up an argument, so Emily shook her head and headed over to the tailors, who stood against the wall. A dozen girls waited ahead of her, glowering at the men as if they thought they could force the tailors to work faster. Emily joined the end of the queue and waited. One of the tailors looked up and saw her, just as he finished outfitting one girl.

“Lady Emily,” he said. He rummaged through a selection of boxes until he found the one he was looking for. “Your dress is over here.”

He opened the box as Emily stepped over to him, revealing a long white dress a shade or two darker than Alassa’s. They’d incorporated some of her suggestions, she noted, as he held it up in front of her; it was no longer so tight around her curves and a handful of protective charms had been woven into the material. But when he reached for the dress she already wore, she shook her head firmly.

“I’ll change on my own,” she said, taking the white dress. “Point me to a private room.”

The tailor stared at her in complete incomprehension. “You can undress here,” he said, surprised. Emily heard a couple of snickers from behind her and fought down the urge to turn and throw a fireball at the aristocratic brats. “It’s quite warm...”

Emily gritted her teeth. “But I prefer to undress in private, or at least away from men,” she said, tartly. “And if there isn’t a seamstress to assist me, I’ll dress myself.”

She turned and marched into a corner, then shaped a privacy ward in her mind and cast the spell with as much power as she dared. The air blurred around her - she thought, just for a second, that she was underwater - and she realized she’d used too
much
power. No one could see in, but she couldn’t see out either. She dismissed the thought, removed her dress as best as she could and pulled the new one over her shoulders. The charms, thankfully, made it easier to wear than she’d expected. Some of the dresses Alassa had been trying on were simply impossible to put on - or take off - without help.

Probably meant to keep her from doing anything indecent in public
, she thought, sourly. It was the only explanation that made sense.
But if she found someone she wanted to kiss, he could help her get out of the dress.

She cast a reflective charm, studied her appearance for a long second and then dismissed both spells back into the ether. The blur faded, revealing the tailor standing outside, rubbing his hands together nervously. She sighed inwardly - he’d probably been worried that he’d be dismissed for irritating a baroness - and let him check the dress one final time. He nodded in approval, made a note of the final measurements, and hurried back to help one of the bridesmaids. Emily watched him go, then walked over to where Imaiqah was talking to a middle-aged woman. Thankfully, she’d been able to get away with wearing her normal shoes.

“But Ellyn needs to be in the front at all times,” the woman was saying. “She’s entering her season and it is
important
that she be prominently displayed at all times.”

Imaiqah kept her face blank, but Emily could tell she was annoyed. “Lady Solana, there are seventeen girls entering their season among the bridesmaids,” she said. “I have to give them all an equal chance to shine.”

“My Ellyn has attracted the eye of Baron Gaunt,” Lady Solana insisted. “She
must
be given a chance to shine!”

Poor girl
, Emily thought. Baron Gaunt was married already, after all, and she doubted he’d be willing to put aside his wife for anything less than a baroness. She hoped, for Ellyn’s sake, that her mother was deluded.
She’d be a mistress rather than a wife
.

“You will need to convince the other young girls to step aside,” Imaiqah said. “If their mothers agree, I’m sure arrangements can be made.”

Lady Solana snorted and walked off, muttering
just
loudly enough to be heard. Imaiqah ignored the stream of insults; instead, she turned to face Emily and looked her up and down before nodding in approval. Emily flushed at her cool scrutiny, feeling oddly uncomfortable in the dress. It just wasn’t something she would have picked for herself.

“That’s the fourth mother who’s nagged me this morning,” Imaiqah said. She looked past Emily, studying the bridesmaids as they clambered into their dresses. “I’ve had more threats than I’ve had hot dinners.”

Emily gave her a sidelong look. “Is there anything you can do for them?”

“I picked the order at random,” Imaiqah said. “If I put one girl forward, all the other girls will be horrified and their mothers will gang up on me. They’ll all have their chance, even the children.”

She sighed as she turned her gaze towards the far corner. A handful of little girls ran around, laughing and screaming, despite the best efforts of their nursemaids. The racket was deafening; two of the nursemaids snapped and snarled at each other, while the remainder tried to bring their charges to heel without making a fuss.

“I think they’re too young for the job,” Emily muttered.

“They are,” Imaiqah confirmed. “And if you knew how hard I had to fight to keep them from adding anyone under five to the party...”

Emily rolled her eyes. She was already dreading the thought of standing in place for hours - and she was almost twenty! A child of five would find it impossible to stand still for five
minutes
, let alone five
hours
. And the ceremony was predicted to take at least twice that from start to finish. She was tempted to lay a private bet that none of the younger bridesmaids would last more than the first hour.

“This is
the
social event of the year,” Imaiqah said, after a moment. “There won’t be another Royal Wedding for years.”

Providing it comes off without a hitch
, Emily thought.
The demon’s warning...

She pushed the thought aside, firmly, and told herself to be positive. Even if Alassa fell pregnant on her wedding night it would still be sixteen years before her child could be formally married. It wasn’t uncommon for royal children to be betrothed while they were still minors, but they wouldn’t be actually
married
. Alassa’s wedding was the only chance any of the aristocratic girls would have to add Royal Bridesmaid to their resumes. Even if they remained unmarried until Alassa’s child grew up, it was bad form to have a bridesmaid older than the bride.

Imaiqah smiled, rather weakly. “And besides, the children are the best-behaved of the bunch,” she added. “Just
look
at the older ones.”

Emily followed her gaze. The older girls looked stunning, she had to admit, but they eyed each other with calculated malice. They’d donned their dresses, draped themselves in necklaces and bracelets and done their hair perfectly, even though it was only a rehearsal. Some of them had even tightened their dresses around their breasts, although they weren’t allowed to show bare flesh. It would have drawn attention away from the bride.

“Time to go,” Imaiqah muttered. She put two fingers in her mouth and whistled for attention, then used a charm to make her voice audible right across the room. “If I could have the bridesmaids over here, please...”

Sergeant Harkin - or King Randor - had been able to command immediate obedience from their followers. Imaiqah didn’t seem to have the same knack. The younger bridesmaids ran over at once, but the older ones wandered over so slowly that Emily had no trouble in recognizing the direct insult. How many of them had thought
they
should have Imaiqah’s job? Or, perhaps, that they didn’t have to listen to someone lower on the social scale?

Bitches
, she thought.

Imaiqah didn’t show any signs of irritation, but Emily knew she was annoyed. “There will be four formal marches in the ceremony,” she said. “You should each have a record of your places by now. Each of you will have a chance to be in the front row. Now...”

She broke off as a dark-haired girl leaned forward. “My mother says that I have to be in the front row,
always.
She won’t let me walk anywhere else.”

“
My
mother says that
I
should be the one who carries the train,” another girl insisted. She stamped her foot on the stone floor. “I
shan’t
take anywhere else.”