Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series)

by Christopher Nuttall

  But he could dance with Emily without upsetting anyone.

  She was very tired by the time the ball finally came to an end.

  Chapter Ten

  WHAT A…BORING LITTLE TIT,” ALASSA SAID, as soon as the maids had been chased out and the door firmly closed. “I cannot understand why his father was so sure Hedrick would make a good match for me.”

  “He knows magic,” Emily pointed out. “And he’s the only spare they have.”

  “I’d have to put up with him for years,” Alassa protested. “He didn’t even stare at my chest!”

  Emily blinked as she started to undress. “You want him staring at your chest?”

  “It would have been a kind of interest,” Alassa said, sourly. “Instead, I didn’t have the impression he cared about me or marriage at all. No liking for me, no liking for the power of being my consort…not even any thoughts of how his marriage could help his kingdom.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I hope that the next one is better,” she added. “Because I am not marrying Hedrick!”

  “Tell your parents,” Emily advised dryly. “Come to think of it, how can we send a message back to Whitehall?”

  Alassa frowned as she started to undo her dress. The maids had been distressed when Alassa had ordered them to leave without undressing her, but Alassa had been insistent. Besides, getting out of the dress was a great deal easier than putting it on. And she wasn’t expected to wear it again for months, if at all. The sheer scale of waste was appalling, Emily had decided. Even by the standards of a royal family, the dresses weren’t cheap.

  “If you don’t mind it being read, you can use the communications sorcerer,” Alassa said, finally. “Lady Barb will have used him to inform my parents that we arrived here safely. But if you do want to keep the contents to yourself, you’ll have to send it via courier in a sealed envelope. The Allied Lands work hard to keep their couriers safe from interference.”

  Emily nodded, sourly. “Do I have to go down to the city to hire one?”

  Alassa snorted. “You’re in a royal castle,” she said, dryly. “Just call one tomorrow, once you’ve written the message. One will come.”

  She finished undressing and walked over to the mirror. Her skin showed no trace of the stresses of the journey, or the dancing they’d done for hours after dinner. Emily almost envied her, even though she could hear the tiredness in her friend’s voice. Her body showed too many signs of stress, even after months of heavy exercise in Martial Magic. At least she didn’t ache so badly these days.

  “We have to be away early tomorrow,” Alassa said. “We can’t show too much interest in one place, or other suitors will start wondering if we’ve made arrangements with King Jorlem.”

  Emily finished pulling off her dress and underclothes, then walked over to the trunk and retrieved her nightgown. Alassa might feel comfortable sleeping without anything covering her, but Emily had never been able to sleep naked. On Earth, she had sometimes worried about her stepfather coming into the room, particularly when he’d been drunk. And in Whitehall, she’d never had a room of her own. She had always shared with two other girls.

  “Good night,” she said, shaking her head at Alassa’s massive bed. It looked easily large enough to hold seven people without them having to be very friendly. “How do we turn off the candles?”

  “You don’t,” Alassa said. “I can draw the curtains around the bed, but…”

  She scowled. “I shall have words with Nightingale,” she added. “You have to sleep in the light.”

  Emily shaped a spell in her mind and then cast it towards the candles. Darkness was a simple spell with a number of military applications. It created a zone of absolute darkness that was nearly impossible to see through without powerful magic, or spells attuned to the original spell. The user could easily sneak up on someone before they managed to dispel the darkness, or use it as cover for an escape.

  She swore out loud as she realized her mistake. With the candles shrouded, the entire room had plunged into darkness. Alassa tittered as Emily generated a simple light globe and found her way to her bed, climbing in and pulling the sheets up to cover her body. The bed might have looked crude, but it was comfortable. Although, she had to admit, after sleeping on the hard ground more than once, anything would have felt comfortable.

  “Good night,” Alassa said. “Lady Barb will wake us in the morning.”

  Emily closed her eyes and…

  She snapped awake, her eyes springing open and peering into the darkness. Something was wrong. She couldn’t say what had woken her, except perhaps the training and experience the sergeants had hammered into her head. One of their many tests had been to have someone sneak up on the pupils while they were sleeping, ready to perform a nasty trick that would teach them not to fall asleep in hostile territory–or at least to set wards and other traps to ensure that sneaking up on them wasn’t easy. Emily still remembered the humiliation of waking up to discover that she–and the other Redshirts–had been tied up and rendered completely helpless. Someone with bad intentions could have easily slit their throats while they were sleeping.

  For a long moment, she heard nothing, apart from a faint snoring from Alassa. They had never shared a room together before, but Aloha snored and Emily had eventually grown used to sleeping through it. And then she’d learned how to cast silencing charms that had made the whole matter irrelevant, leaving her to wonder why she hadn’t thought of it earlier. Emily listened, carefully, unsure of what had awoken her. And then she heard the very light tread of someone trying hard not to make a sound.

  The sergeants had taught her how to listen to her surroundings. She’d been blindfolded while the other trainees tried to sneak up on her. One of them–Jade, she recalled–had the bright idea of tossing a shoe over her head to create a distraction, for which he had received a pat on the back from Sergeant Miles. Now, though, she held herself still as she listened, trying to pick out the sounds of individual people. Someone was in the room.

  One person, she decided, after a long moment. There only seemed to be one person in the room, apart from herself and Alassa. And it probably wasn’t Alassa or one of her escorts; surely, not even Nightingale would come into the princess’s room while she was sleeping. Besides, he would probably have announced himself, rather than sneaking in…unless he wanted to peek at a sleeping beauty. Emily pushed the thought aside savagely as she strained her ears for other clues. Nightingale would have to be insane to try to sneak up on a sorceress-in-training.

  Emily braced herself, recalling what she could of the room’s layout. The trunks were at the far end of Alassa’s bed; they hadn’t had time to push them to one side. Her own bed was in one corner…maybe she could roll out of bed without being heard. But then, if someone was trying to sneak in, they’d be listening carefully for signs of trouble. Emily peered into the darkness, wondering if she dared use one of the spells Sergeant Miles had taught her. She could see in the darkness like a cat, if she used the spell, but it would also reveal that she was awake. If, of course, the intruder was sensitive to magic…

  Maybe it’s the Prince, hoping for a more intimate meeting, Emily thought, then dismissed it with a shrug. Hedrick hadn’t shown the imagination necessary to be a royal brat, let alone a royal would-be rapist. And Alassa wouldn’t have led him on like that. Could it be the other Prince? Some instinct told her that it was unlikely, although she wasn’t sure why. Too many of the lessons the sergeants had taught her to trust her instincts without really knowing why she knew something.

  But she had to do something. Carefully, she concentrated on the spell that had plunged the room into darkness. It was still there, still drawing on her mana; it needed so little power that she could have maintained it all night without feeling the drain. Closing her eyes, Emily reached out towards the spell and cut off the mana. It faded away rapidly, allowing the candles to shine out and illuminate the room. They weren’t particularly bright, not compared to a magical light, but anyone who w
as used to the darkness would think that they had suddenly stared into the sun. Emily heard a curse in a feminine voice and opened her own eyes, using one hand to shield herself. One of the maids stood at the far end of Alassa’s bed, holding a stone wand in one hand.

  Emily threw a freeze spell, as she had been trained to do in Martial Magic. The maid lifted the wand and deflected it, somehow. Emily blinked in surprise, before realizing that someone had loaded the wand with spells and charged it with mana, allowing her to use magic without actually having the gift. Or maybe she was just a very poor magician. Her expression seemed curiously dull for someone who had been trying to break into a princess’s room.

  And then she plucked a knife off her belt and threw it at Emily.

  Emily ducked, silently thanking the sergeants for their training. Most magicians relied on their magic, they’d warned, which left them vulnerable when their magic failed them. The knife struck the wall in a shower of bright red sparks, drawing Emily’s attention to the blade. It was stone, with a number of runes cut into the hilt, runes that helped to channel mana and life force. A necromancer? But why would a necromancer use a wand?

  Scream, you idiot, she told herself. The sergeants had also told her that if an attack was about to take place, the person standing watch should make a loud noise. How the hell had she forgotten that? She bellowed “INTRUDER” as loudly as she could, while launching a second spell at the maid. The maid deflected it with her wand, just as Alassa poked her head out of the curtains. Emily took advantage of the sudden distraction to fire off a binding spell and watched the maid crumple to the ground, ropes appearing from nowhere and tying her up. It was a far more complex spell than the freeze jinx, Sergeant Miles had explained, but it was also far harder to deflect. The wand clattered to the floor as the maid let go of it, then she hit the ground herself.

  The door burst open, revealing Lady Barb. She was carrying a glowing sword in one hand, while deadly balefire crackled around the other. And she was wearing full uniform…had she even slept? Part of Emily’s mind wondered just what she’d been doing while a maid crept into Alassa’s room–but then, the maid had been good at sneaking around. Who knew what other passageways there might be into the guest quarters?

  “Get away from her,” Lady Barb snapped. “Who is she?”

  “She’s an assassin,” Emily snapped back, ignoring the instruction. The maid was staring up at her with wide frightened eyes, her breathing suddenly ragged and uneven. Emily couldn’t tell if she was panicking or if she’d taken poison. There was no way to know. “And I don’t know who she is!”

  Lady Barb muttered a spell and the maid’s robe disintegrated, revealing a small belt of knives and a couple of artefacts Emily didn’t recognize. “Cursed,” Lady Barb muttered, as she removed the knives without touching the blades. “And very dangerous.”

  “By the gods,” Nightingale’s voice said. “Is Her Highness safe?”

  Alassa drew herself up, crossing her arms under her bare breasts, and glared at him. “Her Highness is safe,” she snapped. “And Her Highness wishes you to get out of here. Now.”

  Nightingale hesitated, as if he were on the verge of protesting, and then walked out of the room. Outside, Emily could hear frantic demands for information from the other guards, all of whom had been bypassed. Heads would be rolling, Emily realized, and King Randor might make sure that it happened literally. If Alassa had been assassinated, the succession crisis would take place at once.

  “Stay on the bed,” Lady Barb ordered Alassa. She looked over at Emily. “Do you recognize the runes on the blades?”

  Emily had to fight to keep herself from looking away. “No,” she said, finally. “I’ve never studied runes properly.”

  A cursed blade would be lethal, even if the target was only scratched. Given time, an ingenious enchanter could produce one that would be lethal only to a single specific victim. Or the reverse, ensuring that the blade could never be turned against its owner. She’d barely studied enchanting weapons, but from what the sergeants had said she knew that some killed instantly while others inflicted a nasty curse on their target.

  “Necromantic runes,” Lady Barb said. “Why were they on her blade?”

  Emily stood up, walked back to her bed and looked down on the knife that had been flung at her. It was stone, just like the knife Shadye had pressed into her hand six months ago, but it felt different. Shadye’s knife had been drenched in the blood of the innocent–and Sergeant Harkin, who had insisted that Emily kill him, knowing that his lack of magic would give Shadye an unpleasant shock. This knife…was just a knife.

  “It isn’t a necromantic blade,” she said. Absently, she ran a pair of testing charms over the knife, finding nothing. Of course, the sergeants had also warned her that some cursed items were very good at concealing their true nature. “It doesn’t have the feel of one of their knives.”

  She cursed her own mistake a moment later. With so few details of what had actually happened at Whitehall confirmed–and with countless rumors spreading across the Allied Lands–she had just given Lady Barb another reason not to trust her. Picking up a pillow, she used it to pick up the blade and carry it over to where Lady Barb had put the other weapons, then looked at the maid. She was shaking with fear.

  “She wasn’t a magician,” Emily added.

  “So it would seem,” Lady Barb agreed. She picked up the girl’s wand and examined it. “A very basic weapon, charged with mana–not a tool for more complex spellwork. I wonder who created it.”

  Alassa and Emily exchanged glances, then Alassa spoke what they were both thinking. “Hedrick?”

  “He doesn’t benefit at all from your death, Your Highness,” Lady Barb pointed out. “At best, he loses his chance to be King of Zangaria. At worst, he gets blamed for your murder and his father hands him over to your father in chains. It’s hard to see who does benefit from your death.”

  She reached out, grabbed the maid by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. “Tell me,” she said, staring into the maid’s eyes, “why did you try to kill the princess?”

  The maid staggered, then sagged in Lady Barb’s hands. “She’s fainted,” Lady Barb observed, with a hint of disgust. “I’d better go talk to His Majesty. Someone will have to tell him what happened before he gets it from the rumors that will already be fanning around.”

  Alassa nodded, although Emily could tell that she was worried. She’d been injured before–Emily had almost killed her on their second meeting, although it had been an accident–but facing assassins in the darkness was different. And the assassin had been one of the servants, the men and women who were beneath her notice. Who else might intend to pick up a knife and bury it in Alassa’s back?

  “I want you to ward all the doors,” Lady Barb ordered Emily. “And then do not come out until I call you. Whoever else tries to get in, don’t let them. And feel free to use lethal force if they prove too insistent.”

  “Understood,” Emily said. She scowled as a thought struck her. “Why didn’t you ward the doors yourself?”

  “It is insulting to King Jorlem to suggest that we don’t trust him,” Lady Barb admitted. Her face twisted into a bitter sneer. “I think we’re past that, right now.”

  She threw the bound maid over her shoulder, used a spell to pick up the knives and the wand, then headed for the door. “Remember what I said,” she added. “No one gets in until I call you.”

  Emily watched her close the door, then started to ward it. Warding a room from the inside was simple, but it could also be dangerous when the magician wasn’t keyed into the overall protective wards. It was quite possible that the Court Wizard would complain loudly–but, as Lady Barb had pointed out, they were beyond caring. And it was also possible that the Court Wizard had a hand in the whole affair. Just because neither Emily nor Lady Barb had been able to think of a motive didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t…

  And if they had managed to blame it on the necromancers…?

&nbs
p; “Can you sleep here?” Alassa asked. Her perfect face looked worried, almost scared. She’d known that she was a potential target from birth, but it hadn’t been until meeting Emily that she’d really come to believe it. “The bed is big enough for both of us.”

  Emily hesitated, then nodded slowly. “Just let me finish doing the wards first,” she said. “You go to sleep. I’ll join you in a moment.”

  “If I can sleep,” Alassa said. “I… why did she want me dead?”

  “I wish I knew,” Emily said. She finished the wards and straightened up. Sharing a bed was something she had never done, but Alassa needed it. “We’ll find out tomorrow.”

  Chapter Eleven

  LADY BARB HAD LET THEM SLEEP in, Emily was surprised to realize when she was finally woken by the sound of banging on the door. Rolling out of bed, Emily shaped a spell in her mind as she padded over to the door, cancelled the ward and opened it. Lady Barb stood there, looking rather tired. Emily guessed that she hadn’t slept at all since the assassin had been caught.

  “Get washed and dressed–traveling clothes,” Lady Barb ordered. Two maids stood behind her, carrying another massive tub of warm water. “Then we have to speak to His Majesty.”

  Emily nodded, then looked at the maids. “Are they…safe?”

  “We searched them,” Lady Barb said, “but keep an eye on them anyway.”

  The maids stepped into the room and put the tub down on the floor. Lady Barb followed them and assumed a watchful pose, leaning against one wall. Emily scowled as she realized that that they were going to have even less privacy that she’d thought, then turned and walked back to the bed. Alassa was waking up slowly, one hand on her dagger.