The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  I felt oddly exposed as I walked through the door and down the corridor. My hair hadn't been washed, let alone braided. Mum would have pitched a fit if she’d seen us, even though there was no reasonable chance of being seen by the adults. And if I was seen ... I’d be the talk of the town, not in a good way. There were just too many people who wanted to embarrass our house. They’d gleefully dissect my etiquette failings for the rest of the year.

  Not that it matters, I thought. They spent the last three years dissecting my failures in magic.

  The familiar, bitter resentment welled up inside me as we reached the changing room and stepped inside. I’d had no magic - no apparent magic - for six years, while my siblings had developed their magic at a terrifying rate. Even now, even after discovering what I could do, I still felt a little resentment. The kidnappers - Fairuza and her mystery patron - had treated me as an object, rather than a person. And too many others felt the same way. They were more concerned with what I could do for them than what they could do for me.

  “Cat,” Alana said. Her pinched face narrowed into a disapproving frown. “You look terrible.”

  I tensed, automatically. Alana had been my tormenter for six years, regularly hexing and jinxing me for her own amusement. Our relationship had never been pleasant. Even now, I was wary of her. She’d veered from regarding me as a ball and chain around her future prospects to fearing that my unique talents would make me outshine her. Dad might have ordered her and Bella to help us prepare for the hearing, but ... I hoped she’d have the sense to behave herself. Dad was on the warpath.

  “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I told her. It might well be true. I wasn’t ugly, but my face had more character than traditional beauty. “Are you well?”

  Alana’s dark face twisted into an ugly scowl. “Get in the shower and wash,” she ordered, flatly. “We’ll be ready when you come out.”

  I looked from Alana to Bella, then shrugged. It was hard to believe, sometimes, that we were really related. We had the same eyes and skin tone, but Alana’s face was sharper than mine while Bella’s had grown pudgy. They took more after Mum than Dad, something I supposed was lucky for them. I had inherited his cheekbones. Mum had told me that I’d grow into my looks, but I rather suspected it was the kind of thing mothers told their homely daughters.

  “Fine,” I said. The sooner we were washed, the sooner we could get dressed and have our hair braided. “You get set up here.”

  Rose followed me into the shower. She looked as nervous as I felt, even though she knew she needed Alana and Bella more than me. I could braid my own hair, given time. I could even devise Objects of Power to help me braid my hair. But Rose had grown up in the country. Everything she said, every move she made, marked her as someone of no account. She needed to be dressed properly, if nothing else, or she’d be dismissed as hopelessly gauche.

  And yet, that would be simpler, I thought, as I stripped down and stepped into the warm water. If I’d grown up on a farm ...

  I shook my head. If I’d grown up on a farm, no one would have thought there was anything odd about my lack of magic. But it wouldn’t have been an easy life. Rose had told me enough horror stories about life on the farm to convince me that it wasn't something I wanted for myself. And yet ... I wasn't sure what I did want. I’d wanted to be famous - and now I was famous - but it had come at a price. My life would never be my own.

  Rose muttered a drying cantrip as we stepped out of the shower and back into the changing room. Alana and Bella had been unusually efficient; they’d set up the dressing tables and hung the dresses behind the door, rather than leave them in the bags until they were actually needed. I hesitated, unwilling to let Alana any closer than absolutely necessary, then sighed and nodded to the dress. Better for Bella to work on Rose than risk Alana hexing my friend when her back was turned. I didn’t think Alana would be stupid enough to anger Dad that badly, but she’d done stupid things before.

  “Get this on,” Alana said, shoving an undershirt at me. “We have to hurry.”

  “We have time,” I said, soothingly. “They’re not going to start without us.”

  “They’ll notice if you’re late,” Alana countered. She unhooked the dress and carried it over to me. “I hope you haven’t put on weight.”

  Bella made a small sound of protest. I winced in sympathy. Bella wasn't exactly overweight, but she was pudgy enough for it to be noticed. Thankfully, she had the patience to help Rose don unfamiliar undergarments. I didn't know what Rose had worn on the farm, but I was fairly sure it was something simple. She’d had a great deal of trouble with the school uniform when she’d first arrived. I’d had helped her get dressed more than once.

  I ignored her as I studied the blue dress. It was a miniature version of a dress Mum wore on special occasions, right down to the runes sewn into the silk and the family crest on my left shoulder. No one would fail to recognise me. Alana helped me into it, tightening fastenings and doing up ribbons. I tried to keep the dismay off my face as I inspected myself in the mirror. The dress looked nice, but it wasn't designed to be easy to remove. I was going to have real problems when we returned to the school.

  “We should be coming with you,” Alana said, once she’d finished. “You know ... show off to the crowd.”

  “Dad said no,” I reminded her. Dad couldn't keep either Rose or myself from attending the hearing, but he’d put his foot down when his other daughters had been invited. “You can ask him if he wants to change his mind.”

  Alana shook her head, hastily. I hid my smile as I sat down in front of the dressing table and braced myself. Sisters braided each other’s hair all the time, I’d been told, but I wasn't too keen on allowing Alana anywhere near my hair. She’d once hexed my barrette to fall out at a particularly embarrassing moment, which would have been bad enough, but it had somehow undone my braids at the same time. Mum had been furious. Alana had been lucky not to be grounded for so long her grandchildren would still be stuck in the bedroom. Three weeks had been getting off lightly, under the circumstances.

  I had to smile. That had been a very peaceful summer.

  Alana’s reflection scowled at me. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” I said, quickly. I made a show of looking at the clock. “Hurry?”

  Alana nodded, then went to work with a smooth comb. My hair - our hair - had never been easy to keep under control, but my mother had charmed our combs and brushes to work out the tangles and other problems without a long struggle. I tried to stay calm as Alana brushed out my hair, then started to work it into long dark braids. If she hexed my hair ...

  She wouldn't be that stupid, I told myself, again and again. My father knew how my talents actually worked. He knew he’d made a dreadful mistake by allowing Alana to hex me repeatedly in hopes of bringing out my magic. She wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it any longer. And besides, we were going to Magus Court. If Dad was humiliated in front of his rivals ...

  I shivered. Akin was going to be there - and so was his father. Lord Carioca Rubén had been working steadily to undermine my father’s position since they were both young men. Akin had told me that Carioca Rubén had been delighted when it had seemed I didn't have magic, then horrified when he realised the truth. It would be hard, almost impossible, for us to be unseated if we were the only source of new Objects of Power. Dad had wondered if Carioca Rubén had backed the kidnappers, even though he’d sworn an oath denying it. They had every reason to try to remove me before my mere existence shifted the balance of power permanently against them.

  And we have their Family Sword, I thought. I’d hidden it under my bed, locked away in a box I’d designed myself. I didn't know if Akin had told his father about the sword. I knew I hadn't told my father. That won’t make our lives any easier.

  “Nearly done,” Alana said. Her fingers worked their way through my hair. “You do remember your manners, don’t you?”

  I smiled. “Shake hands wit
h the left hand, stick my tongue out at the guests, run off as soon as decently possible ...”

  Alana didn't see the funny side. “Well, if you want to be disowned ... go right ahead.”

  “I remember how to behave myself,” I said. Mum - and my aunts - had put us through hour after hour of etiquette training. The formal dinners I’d shared with my cousins had been nightmarish. Putting the slightest foot wrong had been grounds for a long lecture on precisely why we were meant to behave in a specific fashion. I knew it was important, but ... I’d hated it. “And we’re not going to a wedding.”

  “Thank the ancients,” Alana said.

  Bella coughed. “I heard that Susan of House Fitzwilliam is getting married to Jan,” she said, tersely. “We’ll be invited, of course.”

  I groaned. Weddings were hard enough at the best of times. But a match between a Great House and a New Man? They were always awkward. The Great Houses understood the importance of new blood, but there was always someone who would look down on the newcomer. And there was probably no way to get out of it, if we were invited. Mum and Dad would make us go.

  “I’ll try to come up with an excuse,” I said.

  Alana snorted. “You know what they say,” she said. “If you’re on your deathbed, bring your deathbed with you.”

  Rose giggled. She clearly thought Alana was joking. I knew better. Weddings were the social event of the year, as far as the families were concerned. Anyone who didn't attend would be deemed to have snubbed the families, something that would have thoroughly unpleasant repercussions further down the line. I’d heard enough horror stories to know that a feud that started at a wedding would linger for centuries, long enough for everyone involved to forget what actually started it.

  “Done,” Alana said, shortly. “What do you think?”

  I looked at my reflection. The braid was perfect, not a single hair out of place. Alana had placed a couple of clips into the hair to hold it firmly in place, but I doubted they were necessary. She’d done a very good job. The blue dress looked striking, although I had the feeling it was going to get crumpled by the time we reached Magus Court. Thankfully, the family dressmaker had charmed the material to ensure it didn’t get rumpled - or dirty.

  Those charms might not last, I reminded myself. I’d discovered that charms fed off a magician’s personal magic, but - as far as I knew - Rose and I were the only people who knew it. And I was the only person who knew the source of magic. The dress might start getting dirty halfway through the hearing.

  “Good enough,” I said, unwilling to praise her too much. “Rose?”

  “She’s ready,” Bella said.

  I glanced at Rose. She looked as if she didn't dare to move. The green dress my parents had sent her was expensive, very expensive. My family could afford a hundred such dresses and never notice the cost, but Rose’s family could no more buy silk from Hangchow than they could purchase an Object of Power. If she tore it ... I shot her a reassuring look. The dress was charmed to keep it intact and Rose, unlike me, had plenty of raw magic to power the spells. She wouldn’t be able to damage the dress unless she used a pretty destructive spell.

  “You look great,” I told her. She did. Her red hair was tied into a pair of neat pigtails, drawing attention to her pale face and the client crest my father had given her. It was unusual for someone so young to be taken on as a client, but it would give Rose a little extra status at Magus Court. “How are you feeling?”

  “Hungry,” Rose said.

  “There's food in the cooler,” Alana said. She opened the box to reveal a selection of sandwiches. “Eat quickly.”

  I felt my stomach growl, so I took a sandwich and ate it as fast as I could. It tasted like ashes in my mouth. We were going to Magus Court ... the butterflies in my stomach were multiplying at terrifying speed. Normally, I wouldn't visit the court while it was in session, at least until I was old enough to have my Season. A mistake made in front of everyone who was anyone would haunt me for the rest of my life. Alana would spend the rest of her life rubbing it in.

  “You’ll be back before you know it,” Alana told us. “Try not to embarrass the family.”

  “Thank you,” I said, sourly.

  I opened my bag and removed a pair of protective bracelets, glinting under the light. I slipped one onto my wrist and passed the other to Rose. Magus Court was supposed to be protected against all threats, from subtle mind-altering charms to outright death spells, but I knew better than to place my faith in Devices of Power. Too many magicians would be working hard trying to find ways to circumvent the wards. Even Objects of Power could be beaten if one knew how to do it.

  And I can't even sense magic, I thought, as I snapped the earrings into place. I’m vulnerable.

  There was a sharp rap at the door. Alana opened it.

  “The carriage is waiting for you,” an upperclassman I didn't recognise said. Her blue eyes flickered over us for a long moment, her lips twisting in a mixture of stern disapproval and bitter envy. “Are you ready?”

  I looked at Rose, who nodded. “Yeah,” I said, standing. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Two

  I couldn't help feeling, as I walked down the stairs and into the courtyard, that I was going straight to my own funeral. The dresses we wore might have looked good, but they were strikingly out of place at Jude’s. Everyone stared at us. It was a relief when I saw my father’s coach in the courtyard, the driver waving cheerfully to us from his perch behind the horses. A pair of family armsmen were standing in front of the coach, looking around with wary eyes. It would be a long time before anyone took Jude’s security for granted again.

  The valet, standing beside the coach, bowed politely and opened the door. I glanced at Rose, who looked terrified, then clambered up the steps and into the vehicle. My father was sitting on the cushy bench, wearing a white suit and a black wig that had been shaped into an extremely complicated arrangement. Everyone knew it was a wig, of course, but everyone knew that everyone else wore a wig too. High Society insisted that men and women alike had to shape their hair to show that they were rich and powerful enough to hire personal stylists, although the men tended to cheat. My mother had never been very happy about it. She’d made sure we girls knew how to take care of our hair, instead of relying on the maids.

  “Caitlyn,” Dad said. His gaze moved past me. “Rose.”

  “Sir,” Rose said, nervously. My father intimidated her. He intimidated most people. “Thank you for inviting me.”

  Dad laughed, rather humourlessly. “Magus Court invited you,” he said, kindly. “Please, sit down.”

  We did as we were told. At the valet's barked command, the vehicle lurched forward and out of the courtyard. I wanted to peer through the windows, but the drapes had been pulled tightly closed. Dad wanted to talk to us, then. Normally, the glass was charmed to allow us to see out without being seen. It wasn't as if there was anything else to do. I’d learnt to hate riding in carriages from a very early age.

  “The hearing has been ... taken over,” Dad said. His dark eyes bored into mine. “You’ll be questioned, perhaps extensively. When you’re on the stand, tell the truth - and nothing but the truth. When you’re off the stand, remain quiet; speak only if you’re spoken to.”

  I nodded, sourly. Children were expected to accompany their parents to Magus Court, if there was a prospect of them becoming the next Family Head, but it was rare for anyone to be taken before they turned sixteen. It was a chance to learn how power really worked, I’d been told, yet it was also boring. I didn't think I’d be able to sit still for hours, unable even to twiddle my thumbs. But if I behaved badly, it would reflect badly on my father. His children might be denied the chance to become matriarchs in their own right.

  Not that there was ever much hope of me becoming Matriarch, I thought, dryly. I have no magic.

  I sucked in my breath as the true meaning of his words sunk in. “Dad ... who’s taken over the hearing?”

  “The Crown Prince
,” Dad said. “I expect you to be on your very best behaviour.”

  I blinked in surprise. Technically, I’d seen the Crown Prince at the Royal Wedding, ten years ago, but I remembered almost nothing. My sisters and I had been only two years old at the time. I’d seen portraits of the happy couple and their children over the years, but I had no idea how accurate they were. My portrait made me look like the sweetest little girl imaginable. The artist had painted to a romantic ideal, rather than trying to depict me as I was.

  “Yes, Dad,” I said, trying desperately to remember royal protocol. I should have brushed up on it ... I would have brushed up on it, if I’d known the Crown Prince was coming. I was surprised I hadn’t heard about it well ahead of time. It normally took months to sort out questions of protocol and precedence when the king or his eldest son visited the city. “Why did he come so quickly?”

  Dad looked displeased. “King Rufus feels that a matter of such importance, one touching on the two greatest houses in the city, should be handled by a member of the Royal Family. It is annoying, but understandable.”