“I won’t,” she said, finally. “Don’t tell anyone either.”
Her senses swam and she must have blacked out, for the next thing she knew was that someone was pushing a potions bottle against her mouth. Barely aware of what she was doing, she sipped it gratefully and felt a sudden charge of energy sweeping away the headache. It wouldn’t last–she knew from experience that the potions never did–but it would allow her to survive the rest of the day.
“A nasty shock,” Lady Barb observed, as she withdrew the potion bottle. “But you should be fine. Just make sure that you get plenty of rest tonight.”
Emily scowled. They had reached White Rose, which meant that there was likely to be a formal reception ceremony and then more dancing–and loud music. Despite the effects of the potion, she knew it would be hours before she recovered completely and she couldn’t face the thought of more music. Besides, she really didn’t want to have to dance with the princes, particularly not Prince Slark. Alassa had told her more than she wanted to know about the prince’s wandering hands.
“I can speak to Nightingale,” Lady Barb said, doubtfully. “Perhaps you could spend the time examining the proposed marriage contract instead of attending the ceremonies.”
“Tell him that I ordered it,” Alassa said, firmly. “Someone has to read the contract and besides, Nightingale has been complaining that he hasn’t been allowed to attend all of the ceremonies.”
Emily stared at her. “But I wouldn’t know what to say…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Lady Barb advised. “Having someone read it now is just a ritual, part of the ceremonies. King Randor will have the final say in all matters. Just let us know if they want something completely unacceptable.”
“Oh,” Emily said. “And what constitutes unacceptable terms?”
Alassa smiled, but it didn’t quite touch her eyes. “Anything that compromises Zangaria,” she said. “And, for that matter, my independence as queen.”
“Go upstairs,” Lady Barb ordered. “I will deal with Nightingale.”
Whatever she said must have been effective, Emily decided later, because after that no one seemed to expect her to attend the ceremony, let alone the dancing afterwards. The maids brought her a large jug of water and a platter of bread and meat, which might have been intended as a subtle insult. Emily found it hard to care as she sat down in front of the fire to eat. Food and drink would make her feel better before Alassa came back from the dance.
She had made progress on learning how to read the local language, but the marriage contract was extremely difficult to parse out. The translation spell didn’t help, representing part of the contract in old English and the rest in a style that seemed almost chatty. Emily had never been entirely sure of how the translation spells worked, but they didn’t seem to work too well when dealing with aristocratic double-speak. Half of the passages in the contract seemed to contradict the other half.
If I ever get home, Emily thought, as she produced some parchment from her trunk and started to copy out the passages in a more understandable style, I will never complain about internet user agreements again.
The contract started by acknowledging that Alassa–although a mere girl, it added in those exact words–would be the Queen of Zangaria and the dominant partner in her marriage. Her husband would be styled as royal consort, rather than King. However, she was to settle on him lands and monies sufficient to uphold the dignity of a Prince of White Rose, including a household of no less than four hundred servants. Emily shook her head in disbelief as the contract went on to specify that the royal consort would have his own manor near Alexis, although he would be living with Alassa. What exactly did he want a manor for?
It grew even more outrageous as she parsed out the rest of the document. The royal consort was to have a place on the Privy Council, with a vote equal to a middle-ranking lord and the same say in affairs as the rest of the councilors. Emily was sure that was contradictory too–not all lords were created equal. Besides, she had no doubt the royal consort was also expected to influence his wife while they were alone. And if, the document continued, Alassa became pregnant, the royal consort would be crowned king once she gave birth.
Maybe it made a certain kind of sense, Emily decided, reluctantly. If Alassa died in childbirth–a risk even for the high nobility–and the child survived, he or she would need a regent who would be completely devoted to the child’s interests. The father would be the best person for the job, although Emily’s studies of history suggested that it wouldn’t work out as neatly as the contract-writers might have assumed. It was quite likely that the father would try to take advantage of the position for himself. After all, when the child became king, the father would no longer be regent.
The following clauses seemed designed to cover each and every possible eventuality. If the couple produced no children after five years of marriage, they were to divorce, but the former royal consort would still hold his position on the Privy Council. Emily couldn’t see Alassa–or her father–agreeing to that. If the couple had a major falling out, so terrible that there was no hope of cooperating long enough to produce a child, the royal consort could return to his homeland, keeping the dowry he would be given as part of the ceremony. The wording seemed to be imprecise over the exact status of the marriage in that eventuality; Emily couldn’t tell if they would be still married, or if it would be counted as a de facto divorce.
“I don’t believe it,” she muttered out loud, as she read the final sections. “What do they think they’re getting into?”
If Alassa married the Prince of White Rose, there was to be a permanent alliance between the two powers. There would be no trade barriers or excessive taxation on passage between the two kingdoms. Remembering one of the political maps the sergeants had made her memorize, Emily thought through the implications. If someone attacked White Rose, it would risk setting off a general war throughout the Allied Lands. The necromancers would just walk in and take over once the dust had finished settling. And that would be the end.
This is supposed to be a draft, she reminded herself, as she stowed her notes away in her chest. They’re going to haggle over the exact terms. I wonder which of them is in the stronger position.
She contemplated it for a long moment. Alassa had to marry, both for political and social reasons. It was expected of her, so much so that she hadn’t raised any serious objections–at least not in Emily’s hearing. On those grounds, Zangaria was not in a good position to bargain; they needed a royal consort. But the sheer prestige of having provided the Royal Consort of Zangaria and the father of the next King of Zangaria would be very useful for any other kingdom. It wasn’t as if Alassa was short of suitors. And a royal consort from outside Zangaria might be able to build up his own power base–one of the clauses in the contract referred specifically to patronage–but he would never have the influence of someone who was actually born in the country. He would always be dependent, in the final analysis, on Alassa.
Poking through the chest, she found the copy of Mental Blood Magic she’d borrowed from Whitehall’s library and carried it over to the bed. Lady Aylia had threatened all kinds of punishments if she lost the book, but she hadn’t raised any serious objection to Emily taking it for study over the holidays. After what had happened when Shadye had invaded Whitehall, no one could argue that Emily didn’t need to know how to defend herself. All of the standard precautions against Blood Magic had failed miserably.
The book, as always, felt faintly uncomfortable to the touch. Almost all of the books that touched on dark magic–or something that could become dark magic, given bad intentions–felt unpleasant when she touched them with her bare hands. She’d tried wearing gloves, just to see what would happen, only to discover that the effect was still there. But then, a protection that was so easy to circumvent would have been no protection at all.
She carefully muttered a disarming spell as she opened the front cover. The Librarians Guild saw itself as the guardi
an of forbidden knowledge; anyone who defied the first warning and looked inside without proper care would come to regret it. Lady Aylia had told her that none of the books in Whitehall–even the forbidden books–were spelled to be lethal to anyone who touched them without permission, but it was a danger when dealing with tomes from outside the school. A handful of stories Emily had read as part of her ongoing project to learn as much as she could about her new world confirmed it. Reading the wrong book could result in paralysis, unwanted transfiguration–or death. Some sorcerers really didn’t like anyone poking into their private library.
Blood Magic was both simple and very complicated, she read. Simple, because it could be worked with a sample of the victim’s blood, which retained its potency until the victim died. Complex, because using it could be incredibly difficult if the victim had any relatives; the presence of someone else close to the victim by blood tended to mess up the spell. It was at least partly why Shadye had found it so easy to use Blood Magic against Emily. In this world, she had no relatives at all.
The writer of the book had never even considered the possibility of alternate worlds. As far as Emily knew, Void, the grandmaster and Mistress Irene were the only ones who knew that alternate worlds definitely existed. Even Shadye, who had kidnapped Emily from her world, hadn’t seemed to realize what he’d been doing until afterwards. Still, he did have some useful suggestions for blocking any further attempts at control. Emily rubbed the side of her head and concentrated on the mental discipline. It should, at least in theory, sink into her wards and provide additional protection, but it was hard to concentrate.
Giving up, she closed the book–feeling the protective hex slipping back into place–and returned it to her chest. Outside, she heard the sound of birds cawing as darkness fell over the land. She walked over to the window and peered out through the glass, catching sight of a flock of crows landing on one of the castle’s towers. In the distance, she could see lights , almost certainly the nearest city. Most castles seemed to have been constructed in or near cities for ease of control.
The door opened, revealing Alassa. “Prince Hildebrand is a definite gentleman,” she said, as she closed the door behind her and started to disrobe. “Very smart, very soft-spoken–and a trained weapons-master. He might be ideal. King Gama is a pain in the buttocks though. He spent half the evening talking about my dowry. Even Nightingale got tired of it in the end.”
She grinned. “And Prince Slark had his face slapped,” she added. “A perfect end to the day.”
Emily rolled her eyes, then sighed as she started to set up the wards. Seven more kingdoms to go. How would she survive?
“You’ll get used to it,” Alassa assured her, when Emily said that out loud. “Besides, do you really want to go through seven more portals?”
Chapter Sixteen
THE NEXT SEVEN DAYS FELL INTO a routine. They would get up early, breakfast with their host in informal surroundings, then travel to the next kingdom on the list. Emily found them all beginning to blur together into a single kingdom, if only because they were so similar. The customs were almost identical, the dances all equally formal. She couldn’t help feeling exhausted by the end of each day, to the point where she begged off a second dance at the last castle. By then, they had picked up no less than fifteen suitors for Alassa’s hand. It was rather more than likely that all but one of them would be disappointed.
“They call these mountains the Mountains of Mourning,” Alassa explained. “According to legend, there was once a Faerie city on the highest mountain, where humans would be taken by their masters and turned into monsters. It was destroyed during the war, but hardly anyone ever visits. There are just too many ghosts.”
Emily shivered as the mountains came into view. They–and other natural barriers–seemed to serve as borders between the various kingdoms, which made a certain amount of sense. Projecting an army over the mountains would have been difficult for the locals, even without magic to make it harder. The handful of people who lived there generally kept themselves to themselves. If they knew that Alassa was passing through their territory to return to Zangaria, there was no sign of it.
“You spent plenty of time with Prince Hildebrand,” Emily said. The temperature was dropping rapidly as they approached the mountains, even though the carriage was supposed to be spelled to keep it warm. “Do you like him?”
Alassa couldn’t blush–for which Emily envied her–but she did look embarrassed. “Have I been spending too much time with him?”
“I’m not sure,” Emily admitted. “You know how little protocol I can be bothered to remember.”
“Lucky you,” Alassa said, without heat. “I just happen to like him.”
Emily wasn’t too surprised. Prince Hildebrand was two years older than Alassa, reasonably handsome, very clever–and fourth in line to his father’s throne. There would be little prospect of White Rose and Zangaria being united permanently by marriage, unless his three older brothers and their children died before Prince Hildebrand. He wasn’t a magician, at least as far as Emily could tell, but he didn’t seem to be intimidated by Alassa’s magic. And he had some practical experience in governing that would serve Alassa very well.
Lady Barb had finally obtained a reply to the message she’d sent to Whitehall, which she’d shared with both girls. Prince Hedrick had majored in hierology, the study of how magic interacted with the gods and the faerie. It was very much a theoretical subject, which indicated a lack of great power or application. His other marks had been reasonable, but very far from brilliant–and he hadn’t stayed any longer than fourth-year. There was no suggestion that he’d taken Martial Magic, or knew any killing spells.
That proves nothing, Emily reminded herself, once again.
Hedrick bothered her. He didn’t seem interested in anything. Alassa had danced with him–by custom, she had to spend at least one dance with each suitor–and he had shown no interest in her at all. Nor did he seem to be interested in other girls–including court ladies who wore clothing that barely covered their private parts–or boys. Emily had danced with him once and realized that he seemed to be going through the motions. He didn’t even seem to be involved enough to be bored.
She’d wondered if someone had enchanted him and raised the issue with Lady Barb, but Lady Barb dismissed the thought. Anyone who showed signs of enchantment would be checked at once by the Court Wizard–and besides, Hedrick just seemed uninterested in the world, rather than someone who might be under outside control. Emily had then wondered if he had a mental problem, but she knew too little to even take a stab at guessing what he might have. And besides, how could she begin to help him? Magic seemed helpless to deal with mental trauma.
“Well, make sure you read the contract carefully,” Emily warned. She’d shown Alassa her notes during the journey from White Rose to Hallow. “And make sure your father knows that you like him–if you like him.”
Alassa flushed. “It also makes the others more attentive,” she added. “They all cluster around me–except Hedrick.”
Emily snorted. The various princes behaved themselves when under the stern gazes of their chaperones–apart from Prince Slark, who seemed not to learn from experience–but their whispers could be very crude. Emily had overhead enough comments to know that Alassa was practically being propositioned, something that she clearly found exciting even though she knew better than to allow it to go too far. What would happen, she wondered, if it did go too far? Would they forgive her for turning a prince into a frog?
They might just ignore it, she thought, dryly. Diplomacy in the Allied Lands seemed to largely consist of ignoring things. And besides, she would have to kiss the prince to turn him back.
“Well, be careful,” Emily advised. “A boy may be nice when he’s wooing, but turn into the devil when married.”
Alassa gave her a sharp look. “And you know this how?”
The honest answer to that was that Emily’s stepmother had married a man who had s
eemed decent, who seemed to be able to provide for her and her young daughter–and who had turned into a demon after the wedding. He’d driven Emily’s mother to drink and made her feel utterly unwelcome in her own home. If Shadye hadn’t kidnapped her, Emily doubted that she would have lasted very long on Earth. But it wasn’t something she could tell Alassa, at least not yet.
“Common sense,” she said, instead. “They all want something from you. See how they act when they have it.”
She looked out the window as the landscape slowly became more and more rocky. According to the map, there was a pass through the mountains wide enough to accommodate the carriages, but it wasn’t an easy passage. By comparing it to some of the comments made by the History Monks, Emily guessed that the pass had been carved out by the Empire–and the successor states hadn’t bothered to maintain it. Rain, snow and rock falls would have taken their toll on the road. It started to grow thinner too as they inched further upwards, with a river on one side. Given enough time, Emily realized, erosion would complete the destruction of the road.
The Romans had built their monuments all over Europe. Their roads had lasted for hundreds of years, as had some of their buildings. But their engineering skills had been better than the Empire’s engineering skills; besides, the Empire had built the road in a very dangerous place. Emily couldn’t help wondering, as the wind started to shake the carriage, just how long it would be before someone had a serious accident and plunged down into the river. Judging by the speed, anyone who fell in wouldn’t be coming out again.
“Birds,” Alassa said, suddenly. “Lots of birds.”
Emily followed her gaze. There were suddenly hundreds of birds in the sky, flying over the carriages and heading away from where they’d been resting. She’d been told by the sergeants that if the birds appeared disturbed, something had disturbed them–and that suggested there was someone lying in wait. The carriages stopped–Lady Barb had evidently had the same thought–and guardsmen rushed past to take up defensive positions. And then a thunderous noise split the air.
Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) Page 15
