Wedding Hells (Schooled in Magic Book 8) (46 page)

“Get out of the room!” she shouted. Hundreds of guests were cowering in the pews, keeping their heads down; she hoped, fervently, that they weren’t already dead. “Now!”

The newcomer bowed mockingly, then turned and slipped back through the door. Emily knew it could be a trap, but she ran after the newcomer anyway. Outside, there was no sign of her, save for a giggle hanging in the air. Emily hastily cast a tracking spell and frowned, puzzled, as it pointed upwards. For a moment, she refused to believe what she was seeing; the newcomer had nothing to gain by going
up
. Unless, of course, she was planning to hide in the castle until the hue and cry died down, which was unlikely. King Randor wouldn’t hesitate to have the entire building searched from top to bottom. But her spell insisted the newcomer had gone up...

Shit
, she thought. She could hear the sounds of people fighting in the distance. Suddenly, the enemy plan fell into place. There were so many newcomers among the guards that
no one
could hope to know them all.
The guards will be spending half of their time fighting each other
.

She gritted her teeth and ran up the stairs, every sense she had probing ahead of her for flickers of magic that might mark an ambush. And yet, if the enemy was using gunpowder, would she sense it before it was too late? She wrapped other wards around herself as she reached the top of the stairs, then cursed under her breath as she saw three guards lying on the ground, their faces contorted in frozen agony. The newcomer - was it someone she knew? - had used a killing curse and left them to die. Emily checked the bodies anyway, but she knew it was far too late. They were already dead.

Alassa will die too if we can’t save her
, she thought, as she hurried down the corridor towards the lower battlements.
And if she dies, what happens to the kingdom?

A set of servants appeared, carrying improvised weapons. Emily held up her hands, hoping they’d recognize her, but they merely charged forward, their faces blank and cold. They’d been hexed, she realized; the newcomer, whoever she was, had turned them into her slaves and sent them to delay pursuit. Emily knew several counterspells, but there was no time to use them; she cast a stunning spell ahead of her, sending the puppets tumbling to the ground. They’d have to be checked by another magician later; she made a mental note to see to it. The spell shouldn’t last very long, but it was hard to be sure.

“I’m sorry,” she said, quietly.

She slowed down as she approached the door, probing ahead with her magic. There was someone, a powerful magician, not too far away down the battlements, but there were no sign of any traps. Bracing herself for an explosion, she pushed through the door and winced at the sudden shock of cold air. The castle was perched on top of a small hill, dominating the city below. There didn’t seem to be any sign of trouble within the city itself, as far as she could tell, but the rebels might be waiting to see if they had successfully killed the king as well as his daughter before they made their move.

And Randor might be dead
, she thought. His guards might not have managed to get him out before it was too late.
Alassa might already be queen
.

She heard the sound of clapping and looked along the battlements. The newcomer was perched on the stone, heedless of the drop behind her. She wore a long black dress that was almost as absurd as Emily’s, at least for a duel; her long dark hair spilled down her back, as if she could no longer be bothered keeping it under control. It would have been easy for her to pass for a maid, Emily realized; no one would have paid any attention to yet another servant, perhaps brought in to help cope with the influx of guests moving around the castle.

“Bravo, Emily,” the newcomer said.

“Nanette,” Emily growled, finally recognizing her. “You’re not dead.”

“No,” Nanette agreed. She smirked. “Your grasp of the obvious is as good as ever.”

Emily clenched her fists. Three years ago, Nanette - posing as a transfer student - had nearly killed her, as well as stealing some of her notes; two years ago, she’d helped Aurelius of Mountaintop in his plan to seduce Emily into joining him. And then she’d almost killed Emily a second time...

She kept her distance. Nanette seemed to have backed herself into a corner, but she had to have a plan. Rushing in could be disastrous.

“Your hand appears to have been repaired,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. Two years ago, Nanette had touched Emily’s familiar and had lost a hand. “I was under the impression that was impossible.”

“I had to have it regrown,” Nanette said, casually. Too casually. “Your...
little friend’s
lingering poison did a great deal of damage. I needed a powerful sorcerer to cut the rest of the arm off and regrow it from scratch.”

“Lucky you weren’t bitten,” Emily said. She caressed the Death Viper bracelet on her wrist. Nanette had been incredibly lucky to survive. “What is the point of this?”

Nanette raised her eyebrows, mockingly. “Oh, I thought the common folk deserved a chance to strike back against their hated oppressors,” she said. “Don’t you?”

“Bullshit,” Emily said, sharply. The idea of Nanette actually
believing
in the rebel cause was absurd. She’d always been a magical supremacist. Emily doubted she could truly accept any mundane as her equal. “What are you
really
doing here?”

“You have enemies,
Lady
Emily,” Nanette said. “I’m merely doing their work.”

Emily lifted her hand. “You can’t escape,” she said, gritting her teeth. Nanette was unlikely to give her any honest answers to her questions. “You will answer for your crimes.”

“I think not,” Nanette said. She rose, slowly, but made no move towards Emily. “Why are you even
here
, Lady Emily? You spoke of equality and yet you support your aristocratic friends? Randor is trying to use you in his political games.”

“I know,” Emily said.

Nanette leaned forward, slightly. “So why do you
let
him?”

She’s stalling
, Emily realized, suddenly. Nanette knew her, knew her well; she’d picked her words carefully, knowing they would undermine Emily’s willingness to assist the king, but she also knew Emily wouldn’t abandon Alassa. This wasn’t an attempt to convert Emily to Nanette’s way of thinking. It was an attempt to buy time!
But why? What does she want
?

“That is none of your concern,” she said. “I beat Master Grey in a fair match. I can beat you.”

Nanette smirked. “The last time we fought, you cheated. I would have won if you hadn’t had a Death Viper for a pet.”

“And I beat Master Grey in a
fair
match,” Emily repeated. Nanette was not an opponent to take lightly - and besides, she wasn’t trapped in a dueling circle - but she
had
beaten a more experienced sorcerer. “Come along quietly and...”

“And get tortured to death by King Randor’s interrogators,” Nanette said. “Or are you going to tell the king that he
can’t
hurt me?”

Emily hesitated.

“Thought not,” Nanette said. “Now...”

She jabbed a finger at Emily. Emily stepped to one side as...
something...
flashed past her, a deadly curse that made her skin tingle even as it missed her and splashed harmlessly against the stone battlements. Nanette chuckled and threw a second curse; Emily hastily expanded her wards, and threw a hail of fireballs back. She knew Nanette would have no trouble in dodging or deflecting them, but they would keep the older girl busy. Nanette laughed out loud, shaped a spell and threw a giant wave of fire at Emily. Emily swore under her breath as flames licked around her wards and countered with a modified transfiguration spell, sucking the oxygen out of the air. The flames flickered and died before they could burn through her wards.

Nanette looked surprised; Emily braced herself, then cast one of the nastier spells she knew at the older girl. Nanette stumbled - just for a second, Emily thought she’d fall off the battlements and die - then collected herself and tossed back a handful of spells of her own. Emily deflected all but one of them; she swore, savagely, as the world went black. She’d forgotten. Using a blinding spell on someone at Whitehall was severely punished, but Mountaintop regarded them as just another prank spell. And Nanette had managed to slip one through her wards.

She channelled her magic through her fingertips and threw it at Nanette, without trying to cast a spell. Nanette would have to take cover, she hoped; a blast of raw magic might kill her or warp her body beyond repair. It gave her a moment to counter the blinding spell; she winced in pain as light stabbed into her head, then gathered herself. Nanette had taken cover behind a stone battlement, instead of either trying to take advantage of Emily’s blindness or making her escape. It made no sense.

She’s still stalling
, Emily thought. Nanette could have tried to win the duel or escape; instead, she had the odd feeling that Nanette wasn’t taking the duel seriously, even though she’d flung a dozen deadly spells at Emily.
But why? What is she waiting for?

“You’ve changed, Emily,” Nanette said. “Your magic has grown stronger.”

“Strong enough to best you,” Emily growled. Her magic was singing in her veins, even though she knew she should be reaching her limits. It was almost scary. “You are not going to escape.”

“Of course I am,” Nanette said.

“No, you’re not,” Emily said. “You can’t get past me and you can’t teleport out. The wards will stop you.”

“The wards don’t seem to be working very well,” Nanette mocked. “How many spells have I cast in the last ten minutes alone?”

Emily winced. She was right.

Jade wouldn’t have wanted to interfere with the magicians amongst the guests
, she thought, grimly.
And so he didn’t tune the wards to make it impossible to perform magic, just to alert him when spells were cast.

She cursed under her breath. Nanette might not have dared use magic before the shooting started, but if she’d heard about Alassa turning Alicia into a rat, she would have guessed the wards didn’t prevent magicians from casting spells. And then it wouldn’t have been hard for her to test it, once the rebels made their move, knowing that if the wards stopped her from using magic she could just escape the castle in the confusion.

But she went up to the battlements instead of down to the gates
, she thought.
Why? What is she doing?

“The wards will still stop you from teleporting,” she said. She
was
fairly sure that was true. The wards at Whitehall certainly prevented people from teleporting in and out of the castle and, she assumed, the same was true for Mountaintop. “
That
is quite a noticeable spell.”

“No doubt,” Nanette mocked. “But tell me, Emily; are you
sure?
”

Emily met her eyes. “If
you’re
sure, teleport away from here.”

She wasn’t sure what would happen if Nanette tried. Jade might not have set the wards to prevent teleportation, after all; he might only have configured them to prevent intruders from teleporting
into
the castle. Or the wards might already have been damaged in the fighting, leaving them powerless. Or the spell might not work at all. Or Nanette might wind up being torn to atoms.

Nanette smiled. “Not yet, I think.”

Emily lifted a hand. “I have magic to continue the fight,” she said. She deliberately boosted her aura, showing off her power. It wasn’t considered polite at Whitehall, but she was past caring. “Do you?”

“Of course,” Nanette said. She held up her palm. A spell glittered into life, sparkling with deadly energy. “As you can see...”

She tossed the spell. Emily caught it on her wards, then swore; Nanette smiled as it started to burrow through her protections, threatening to tear them apart. She hastily shoved the ward away from her, canceling before it could collapse, then threw back an overpowered fireball of her own. Nanette had to shield herself hastily as flames burned into her wards, throwing back a handful of spells to force Emily to refrain from pressing her advantage. Emily deflected them all, casually. And then she heard someone coming through the door behind her...

Nanette smiled, coldly. Emily stepped sideways. Whoever was coming was unlikely to be friendly - Nanette might have been waiting for the newcomer - and she didn’t want to get caught between two fires. But as the person came into view, she stared in disbelief. Paren, Imaiqah’s father, was many things, but he was neither a magician nor a fighter. He had no business chasing Nanette, or putting himself in the middle of a magician’s duel.

And then she froze in horror as the pieces fell into place.

“I
T WAS YOU,” SHE SAID, QUIETLY
. She’d wondered how the rebels had gotten their hands on flintlocks, let alone smuggled them through the gates. Now she knew. “You’re the traitor.”

Paren looked surprised to see her, she noted, feeling ice congeal around her heart. Had he thought she’d be dead already? Or had he thought she’d stay with Alassa instead of chasing Nanette? Or...she pushed the thought aside as the horror grew stronger. If Alassa survived, the friendship she’d formed with Imaiqah would be shattered beyond repair, leaving Emily caught in the middle.

He brought fireworks into the castle and a brace of pistols for Alassa
, she thought.
He smuggled the rebels into the castle right under our noses
.

“There was no choice,” Paren said. He met her gaze unflinchingly. “The king was systematically weakening the Assembly. We knew it wouldn’t be long before it was dismissed altogether, even though we paid our taxes. He had to go.”

Emily froze. Was Randor already dead? He’d been wearing armor, but would that have provided any protection? If both the king and Crown Princess were to die, the kingdom would plunge right into civil war...and if Paren had a musket-armed force under his command, he might
win
that war outright. And the hell of it was that, under other circumstances, she might have joined him. He’d
wanted
her to join him.