Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (44 page)

The king nodded. “Do you understand the rights and obligations of the titles you wish to assume, both to your feudal lord and master and to your subjects?”

“I do,” Lady Regina said.

“Do you undertake to marry within two years,” King Randor added, “with the intention of producing children who can carry on the baronial bloodline?”

“I do,” Lady Regina said.

Emily felt a flicker of sympathy. Lady Regina might have more free choice than Alicia, but not by much. She’d have to submit a list of names to the king, who was perfectly capable of rejecting them repeatedly until she chose someone he approved of. Hopefully, the king would select someone who could keep her darker side in check, although
that
wouldn’t be easy. Like Alassa, Lady Regina would hold all the power in the marriage.

“Then I confirm you in your titles,” King Randor said. “Kneel.”

Lady Regina knelt, gingerly. Randor rose to his feet, took a golden tiara from Nightingale and gently placed it on Lady Regina’s head. The audience started to applaud as he helped her to her feet, then spun her around to face the crowd. Emily saw a glint of triumph in her eyes and shivered, inwardly. Lord Hans would probably have caused a revolution within weeks, but Lady Regina might be more dangerous to the rebels in the long run.

“You may leave today, if you wish,” King Randor said. “My daughter understands that you need to assert yourself in your barony as quickly as possible. There will be no offense taken if you go.”

Which will give Regina a nasty dilemma
, Emily thought.
Leave now and offend her future queen, if the king is lying, or stay in the castle and risk seeing events run out of control in Swanhaven when word of her appointment gets back to the barony.

“I will leave today,” Regina said. “I will convey my respects to the Crown Princess before I depart.”

A good way to get turned into something inanimate
, Emily thought. She doubted Alassa would be happy about the interruption.
I wonder if Randor will let her go.

“I will supply you with a regiment of troops,” Randor said, instead. “They will assist you in restoring order, if necessary.”

Lady Regina nodded, curtly. She didn’t look too pleased, Emily saw; it wasn’t hard to guess why. A regiment of the king’s troops would be helpful, at least in the short term, but their presence would make it harder for her to do anything without the king’s knowledge. If she’d wanted to build up a private army to replace the one her predecessor had lost - something the king had explicitly forbidden - she would find it a difficult task.

“I thank you, Your Majesty,” Lady Regina said.

“The troops are already waiting,” King Randor said. “Merely inform their commander when you are ready to depart.”

He settled back on his throne. “The business of Swanhaven is now concluded,” he said, addressing the entire crowd. “A small buffet has been laid out for the new baroness in the dining hall. You may talk to her there, if you wish.”

It was a dismissal, Emily realized. Lady Regina curtseyed to the king, then turned and walked out of the hall. A handful of others followed her; the king scowled at the stragglers until they got the idea and retreated too. They’d probably wanted to petition the king about something, but it could wait. Emily was halfway to the door herself when the king called her name.

She turned to face him, cursing under her breath. “Yes, Your Majesty?”

“You do not approve,” King Randor said. It wasn’t a question. “You feel she will make a poor baroness.”

“She will, Your Majesty,” Emily said. She’d expected to be asked about Earth, to have the king’s knowledge used against her, but Randor was too canny a monarch to play such a card until he understood its value. “I expect her people will not be pleased to see her.”

“She may be able to blame everything on Hans,” the king said. “I will have his head pickled and sent to Swanhaven to be placed in the center of the square. Her people will know Hans is dead.”

“You provoked him,” Emily said, numbly.

“Yes,” the king said. He smiled, rather darkly. “A mentality like his will always react badly to having a prize snatched away. I believe you are already aware of the flaw in his character.”

He cocked his head. “And yet, you feel that Lady Regina is a worse choice?”

“They were both poor choices,” Emily said. She didn’t know what the king was playing at and she wasn’t sure she cared. All she really wanted to do was take part in the final ceremony, wave Alassa goodbye when she left on her honeymoon and set off with Frieda for a week or two of exploring. “Lady Regina is likely to provoke an uprising.”

Randor peered down at her. “Is that what happened...on your homeworld?”

“Yes, it is,” Emily said. Too late, she realized she’d confirmed everything Alassa had told her father. Maybe she could have lied to his face and claimed she’d been pulling Alassa’s leg. “Hundreds of kings and aristocrats died because they took liberties.”

She smiled ironically at the pun, then went on. “They died because they treated the common people with disdain, because they proved themselves untrustworthy
when they made promises and broke them seconds later
.”

“I did what I had to do,” Randor insisted.

“You’re getting a reputation as an untrustworthy monarch,” Emily told him, bluntly. She no longer cared for diplomacy. “You need to find a way to balance the commons and the aristocrats, Your Majesty. And you need to do it fast.”

Randor frowned. “
Really
.”

“Yes,” Emily said. She could have rattled off several historical examples, but none of them would have meant anything to the king. “Your kingdom is on a knife-edge. You need to evolve structures to handle the changes or you will be swept away by the oncoming storm.”

“I have tried to co-opt the changes,” Randor said. “But that has caused problems with the barons.”

None of whom will just abandon their claims to power
, Emily thought. The king couldn’t square the circle without starting a civil war. He needed time he wasn’t likely to have.
And when the rebels come, the country will be torn apart
.

“Then play the barons off against the commons,” she suggested. If the commoners overthrew the aristocracy, Zangaria would probably wind up with a dictatorship. But if the aristocracy crushed the uprising, all hope of economic development would be lost. “Try to give the commons a stake in your rule.”

“The commons are not a threat to the monarchy,” Randor said. The contempt in his voice was clear. “But the barons are clawing back the power I took from them.”

“The commoners are the
future
,” Emily said. “You ignore their threat at your peril.”

She shook her head, then turned and stalked out of the room, without waiting to be dismissed. There was nothing else she could say or do that would convince him to change his course, to avoid civil unrest. All she could do was pray that Alassa understood the truth...

...Before her kingdom was ripped apart by civil war.

“W
ELL,” IMAIQAH SAID, THE FOLLOWING MORNING
. “I hope you understand your role in the affair.”

Emily nodded. Her friend looked stressed, despite her best attempts to hide it. Organizing everything had been tricky, to say the least; she still had to supervise the formal ceremony while taking part in it herself. Afterwards, Emily hoped Imaiqah would find time for some rest. She’d already declined a suggestion that she should accompany Emily and Frieda on their tour of the Allied Lands.

“I know my place,” Emily said. “I’ve even readied the sword for the presentation ceremony.”

Imaiqah sighed. “I had awful trouble coming up with a gift,” she said. “Father eventually suggested a brace of pistols. One of them is actually designed for a smaller hand.”

“Alassa will like that,” Emily said. The aristocrats would probably sneer, but
Alassa
would understand the gift’s value. Do you have any words of advice?”

“Try not to let them get you down,” Imaiqah said. She looked up as someone knocked on the door. “And here are the dress maids, Emily. Try to put up with them one final time.”

“I’ll do my best,” Emily said. The door opened, revealing three maids, one of whom was carrying a long white dress. “But when you get married, can you have something less complex?”

“I can try,” Imaiqah said. “Good luck.”

Emily groaned, inwardly, as her friend made her escape, then braced herself as the maids closed in. She had never liked having other people around her as she dressed and undressed, let alone having them assist her into her clothes. At best, it struck her as horrifically lazy; at worst, they poked and prodded her so hard that she wound up feeling sore in delicate places.

If I ever have children
, she vowed as the maids removed her nightgown and went to work on her hair,
I’ll make damn sure they don’t get too used to having servants
.

The thought kept her mind occupied as her hair was washed - again - brushed until it shone and then tied up in a long braid that hung down to her lower back. Someone who grew up with servants, with men and women who rushed to carry out their merest whims, would turn into a spoiled brat. They’d never know what it was like to starve, or to have to ham-fistedly mend their own clothes, or handle a drunken parent. She clenched her fists in a sudden burst of anger, making the maids tut-tut as they tried to dress her. Had Lord Hans started out as a spoiled brat? Or had the certainty that he would eventually be killed by the Baron of Swanhaven shaped his character? There was no way to know.

“Finished,” the maids finally announced. “Just in time too.”

Emily glanced at herself in the mirror, then nodded impatiently. One more day. One more day and then the whole ceremony would be over. She could handle it. The next time she saw Alassa, she hoped, it would be just the two of them. They could have a quiet chat in her rooms rather than anything public. And she could give her friend the
true
gift.

“Very good,” she said. She tipped the maids, then picked up the sword, using a spell to lighten it. She’d wondered about trying to find a matching dagger, but Master Grey hadn’t owned one and there hadn’t been time to ask a blacksmith to try to come up with something suitable. “I thank you.”

She stepped through the door and headed down to the antechamber, where a number of aristocrats already waited, presents in hand. Imaiqah stood at the front of the room, ticking off names on a clipboard; she waved to Emily at once, beckoning her forward and sending her into the main hall. Emily nodded, walked through the door and up to where Alassa and Jade were receiving presents. She shook her head in disbelief as she realized just how many gifts had already been presented. Several portraits of Alassa, a giant piano, stacks of gold and silver ornaments...she couldn’t help wondering if there was anything as practical as a set of cutlery among the piles. But then, Alassa had all the gold-plated knives and forks she’d ever need.

“You’re looking good, both of you,” she said, as she approached the throne. Alassa, no longer a bride, wore white instead of green. “Did you have a good time?”

Jade grinned openly. “You didn’t hear us?”

Alassa elbowed him. “Everything went well, thank you,” she said, her face flushing red. “I hear Lord Hans is in the cells.”

“He tried to attack your father,” Emily said. There would be time to discuss the rest of the affair later. “I brought this for you.”

She passed the wrapped sword to Jade and watched as he carefully removed it from the cloth, then held it up to the light. The sword glinted, the runes carved into the metal flickering with magic. Alassa felt the hilt lightly and frowned. It was too heavy for her to lift unaided.

“An interesting set of very old charms,” Jade said, in wonderment. He didn’t recognize the sword. Master Grey had clearly never showed it to him. “Where did you
get
it?”

“Around,” Emily said, vaguely. She didn’t want to tell him the truth. “It belonged to me; now, it belongs to you.”

She looked at Alassa. “Are you looking forward to the honeymoon?”

“I shall be glad to be away from the castle for a couple of weeks,” Alassa said. “And I wish I had time to talk now.”

“I understand,” Emily said. “I’ll see you after the honeymoon?”

Alassa gave her a quick hug. “You will.”

Emily nodded and left the room. Imaiqah snared her at once and pointed her into another chamber, where the bridesmaids waited and chatted nervously. Frieda stood nearby, looking out of place; Emily hurried to join her as the bridesmaids watched Emily with fearful eyes. If the ceremony stayed on time - and both Randor and Imaiqah were determined that it should - they had an hour to wait until the main ceremony began.

“I gave her an analysis of the final game of Ken we played,” Frieda said, quietly. “She liked it, I think.”

“She would,” Emily said. Alassa would understand how much effort Frieda had put into the analysis, even though very few others would. But then, she had a feeling that very few aristocrats tried to make their gifts
personal
. “Don’t worry about it.”

Time passed slowly before Imaiqah entered and shouted for attention. The bridesmaids hastily rose to their feet and lined up, while Emily and Frieda hurried to their spots at the front of the line. Imaiqah chivvied the bridesmaids into order, checking them against a list she carried; Alassa entered seconds later, wearing a long white dress that reminded Emily of a fancy bridal gown from Earth. She carried a bouquet of red roses in front of her, staring down at them demurely. Emily could smell them from halfway across the room.

It’s a performance
, she thought, darkly. She’d never taken part in a school play, but she thought she understood the principle. The actors could do whatever they liked while they were off-stage, preparing to play their roles; when they walked onto the stage, however, they had to be in character.
Alassa’s wedding is a performance for the benefit of the aristocracy
.