Trial By Fire (Schooled in Magic Book 7)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I don’t get to choose,” Alassa said. “I am the Princess and the Heir and...there isn’t anyone else.”

  Emily nodded. King Randor’s brother, the Duke of Iron, was kept in comfortable custody in a castle hundreds of miles from his former lands. His attempt to seize the throne, prompted by his wife, had resulted in absolute disaster. No one would accept him as a ruler even if both Randor and Alassa were dead. It was far more likely that the barons would divide the kingdom up between them, or start a civil war for the throne. Alassa couldn’t abandon her country without leaving it in ruins.

  “At least you won’t be unprepared,” Emily said.

  “I suppose,” Alassa said. She tapped her chest. “My father and I had a long talk about my responsibilities, once I get married. I’m expected to produce an heir very quickly.”

  Emily shuddered. Alassa was nineteen - she’d be twenty by the time she married - and certainly old enough to have children safely, but it still felt odd to think of one of her friends giving birth. Emily didn’t want to think about the pressure King Randor would exert on Alassa and Jade to have children as soon as possible...if, of course, they could have children. Jade wasn’t related to Alassa on any level, as far as they knew, but it was quite possible that Alassa was barren. No one knew for sure.

  “And then you’ll have a guaranteed succession,” she said, pushing her doubts aside. “And plenty of time to learn how to be queen.”

  “I hope so,” Alassa said. “Father...was very blunt when he talked to me about men and pregnancy and...and having children. It wasn’t a pleasant chat.”

  Emily could imagine. Talking to Lady Barb would be embarrassing; talking to a man, even one she trusted, would be worse. But King Randor needed grandchildren, if he couldn’t have more children of his own; he might insist that Alassa remained virginal until her wedding night, but he’d happily have the talk - The Talk, her mind insisted - with her. It could only have led to cringing embarrassment on all sides.

  Or perhaps not, she thought, inwardly. Aristocrats are more interested in producing children than anything else.

  “Then I ended up having another chat with Lady Latina,” Alassa added. “Do you know what she said?”

  “I don’t want to know,” Emily said. She’d probably seen Lady Latina during one of her visits to Zangaria, but she couldn’t put a face to the name. “It probably wasn’t anything decent...”

  “It wasn’t,” Alassa agreed. Her grin became evil. “She said that marrying a sorcerer was better than marrying an aristocrat because...”

  “I don’t want to know,” Emily said, covering her ears. “I really don’t want to think about it.”

  “You may have to,” Alassa said. She sobered, meeting Emily’s eyes. “What happens when Caleb wants to do something more than just kissing?”

  Emily scowled at her, trying hard not to blush. “What happens when Jade wants to do something more than just kissing?”

  “We’ve done a bit,” Alassa said, blithely. “Imaiqah was happy to tell me a few things we could do that didn’t risk a pregnancy. I’m sure she’d be happy to tell you.”

  I had the Internet, Emily thought. If the Grandmaster had banned Blue Books from the school, she dreaded to think what would have happened if someone had invented the Internet and started using it for porn. It was only a matter of time, she was sure. The introduction of the scientific method had made it inevitable. And I saw too much online.

  “I think we’d better go back to our studies,” she said, instead. “Or do you want me to make your apologies to Imaiqah and the others?”

  “Later, if you wouldn’t mind,” Alassa said. “I was hoping to talk about other matters with you.”

  Emily nodded and picked up one of the books. “Right now, we both probably look like idiots,” she said. “You for being caught out of bounds; me for being knocked down by a bunch of Third Years.”

  Alassa snorted. “I think if you’d been able to hex them back things would have been a little different,” she said, tartly. “And you really should know it.”

  “I do,” Emily said. Just cutting down the number of students aiming hexes at her had been quite helpful...and she could have stopped more of them if she’d been allowed to fire off her own spells. “But everyone else thinks otherwise.”

  “Then everyone else is an idiot,” Alassa said. She reached out and gripped Emily’s hand. “I sometimes wonder what my life would have been like if Lady Barb had kicked me in the ass years ago, back when she was my bodyguard. But...”

  She sighed. “Master Grey may be doing you a favor,” she added. She didn’t sound as if she really believed her words. “You do realize that?”

  “It doesn’t feel that way,” Emily said.

  “Of course it doesn’t,” Alassa said. “I didn’t feel like you were doing me a favor, back in First Year. But I think you did.”

  Emily felt her face heat. “Thank you,” she said. “Shall we go back to work?”

  Alassa nodded and picked up the book. “I just can’t get this spell in Healing,” she admitted. “I should be able to make it work, but it keeps failing...”

  “You’re not allowing the magic to shape itself,” Emily said. It reminded her of one of the forbidden spells, one that warped rather than healed. Alassa was closer to reproducing it than she knew. “Lady Barb was saying you needed to help the body, not overpower it.”

  “I see,” Alassa said. She shook her head. “If this wasn’t so useful...”

  “At least you can rely on yourself,” Emily said. She thought, for a moment, that she understood Master Grey perfectly. “Who else can you count on when you’re alone?”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  IT WASN’T EASY TO TALK TO the others, Emily discovered, after she finally left Alassa and returned to the dorms. Imaiqah had already guessed the truth, but Pandora was furious and the Gorgon disappointed. By the time Emily managed to escape and make her way to the workroom where Caleb awaited her, she was nursing a headache and feeling tired, depressed and cranky. And, when she walked in, she saw that Caleb had a nasty bruise covering his cheek.

  “What happened to you?” she asked, concerned. “Someone hit you?”

  “Johan did,” Caleb said, crossly. He sounded oddly reluctant to talk to her, but pushed ahead anyway. “I think we have a problem.”

  Emily stared at him. “Johan hit you?”

  “I hit him back,” Caleb said. Emily was surprised at first, but remembered that Caleb came from Stronghold. Basic combat training had been hammered into his head from Day One, while it was optional at Whitehall. “Someone told him that...that I was taking advantage of you.”

  “What?”

  “Someone told him that I was taking advantage of you,” Caleb repeated. “And that all of this” - he waved a hand at the tiles on the worktable - “was your idea, not mine.”

  “That’s absurd,” Emily protested. Johan? She barely knew him! God knew he hadn’t spent any time with her outside class. “You’re the one who came up with the idea in your Third Year.”

  It made no sense. She hadn’t prepared a project in her Third Year because she’d had no partner. If the Grandmaster hadn’t put Caleb and her together, she would probably have had to redo Third Year. Everyone knew Caleb had had a good idea, he’d just managed to injure himself and scare off his last partner. He certainly wouldn’t have been allowed to copy something from Emily and pass it off as his own work.

  But someone might believe it, Emily thought. Most of her inventions remained secret, but she was credited with inventing everything from a new system of writing letters and numbers to stirrups and steam engines. If all they know is that I’m a genius, they might think Caleb had stolen the idea from me...

  She swore, using a word she’d learned from Lady Barb. “Who told him that...that lie?”

  Her thoughts flashed to Master Grey, but lying about her...her boyfriend seemed a little petty for him. He could have just piled more detentions on her if he’d wanted to
split them up, or suggested she do something else with her time. But then, she was meant to do a joint project with Caleb. Preventing them from meeting completely would have been impossible.

  She let out a long breath as the answer snapped into place. “Frieda,” she said. “Frieda must have told him.”

  Caleb blinked. “Your friend?”

  “She’s mad at me,” Emily said. It made sense; Frieda resented Caleb, so she’d manipulated Johan into attacking him. “And...”

  She shook her head. “I can’t explain it. But I need to find her.”

  “The Grandmaster will know better,” Caleb said. “But if she keeps spreading these lies, Emily, it could be bad.”

  Emily nodded. A rumor could flash through Whitehall quicker than a spell - and, no matter how thoroughly one was debunked, it would still stick. Caleb was an outsider even more than she was, a transfer student who’d stayed...he didn’t have the deep bonds of friendship others had formed over the years. If the rumors stuck, and they would, he might find himself in deep trouble. The Grandmaster would definitely know better, but how many others would feel the same way?

  “I’m sorry,” she said, running her hand through her hair. They didn’t need this problem, not on top of everything else. “Can we meet again later? I need to find her.”

  She gave Caleb a quick kiss and hurried out of the room. There was no point in asking Madame Razz to find Frieda, but Professor Thande was usually just down the corridor, supervising a handful of experiments. As Emily had expected, he didn’t bother to ask why she wanted to find Frieda; he just checked the wards and told Emily that Frieda was wandering through the gardens outside the school, near the zoo. Emily nodded, thanked him, and hurried down to the gardens. Surprisingly, they were almost deserted.

  Frieda stood in front of a pond, staring into it. Emily cleared her throat; the younger girl spun around and stared at her, then turned and started to run as fast as she could. Silently thanking Master Grey for his lessons, Emily threw a tangle spell after her and sent Frieda falling to the grass. Emily was on top of her before she could break the spell and escape.

  “We need to talk,” she said, as Frieda sat up sullenly. “You’ve been avoiding me for days.”

  “Weeks,” Frieda muttered, looking down at the ground. Emily felt a flicker of guilt as she realized that Frieda had skinned her knee. “I...”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Emily said, softly. “I’m sorry.”

  Frieda glanced up at her, resentfully. “I thought you liked me.”

  “I did,” Emily said. She corrected herself hastily. “I do.”

  “You saved me,” Frieda said. Her face was bright red, tears glimmering in her eyes. “You saved me and you spent time with me and I thought...”

  She shook her head. “I’m sorry, too.”

  “You should be,” Emily said. “Why did you tell lies to Johan?”

  Frieda didn’t bother to deny it. “Because he admires you,” she said. “I knew he’d defend you if he thought you were in trouble.”

  “I’m not in trouble,” Emily said. She thought of Master Grey - and the reception Alassa was likely to get from her roommates - and wondered if that was entirely true. “Well...not more trouble than usual, at least.”

  Frieda smiled, then sobered. “I don’t like Caleb,” she said. “You shouldn’t be kissing him.”

  “He’s a decent man,” Emily said. “I didn’t realize you felt that way about me.”

  “I thought you did,” Frieda said. “You never hurt me. You treated me as a friend.”

  And taking you out to places in Cockatrice must have seemed like a date, Emily thought, morbidly. I never saw it.

  “I’m appallingly bad at seeing what other people are feeling,” Emily admitted. “It took me months to realize you were in trouble.”

  “At least you noticed,” Frieda said, sullenly. She looked up. “If you’re bad at reading emotions, Emily, could you be wrong about what Caleb feels for you?”

  Ouch, Emily thought. It was a nasty thought, all the more so for being quite possible. She might have misread Caleb badly...and if she had, she was likely to leave herself open to something far worse than Nanette’s betrayal and theft of her notes. But I don’t think I’m wrong.

  “I think that’s different,” Emily said.

  Frieda crossed her arms under her knees, as if she expected to be hit. “I’m sorry,” she said, in a flat tone that almost broke Emily’s heart. “I had presumptions above my station, My Lady, and I will not trouble you with them again.”

  “Frieda,” Emily began. “I...”

  “I humbly offer my submission to you,” Frieda continued. She rose, then fell forward into full prostration. “This unworthy one begs your pardon and accepts whatever punishment you choose to give.”

  “Get up,” Emily snapped. It would have been overdone, if she hadn’t been all too aware that Frieda meant every word. Growing up in the Cairngorms, where she had had almost no power, would have taught her to grovel when necessary. But it was disgusting and futile and...it wasn’t right. “Get up now!”

  Frieda sat back on her haunches, staring down at the ground. “Emily...”

  Emily suddenly understood just how Lady Barb must have felt, when Emily had acted younger than her age. The impulse to just smack some sense into the younger girl was almost overpowering. Frieda’s crush had turned into a nightmare, so she’d crawled back into herself...

  She knelt down, facing Frieda. “Listen to me, please,” she said. “Look at me.”

  Frieda looked up, slowly. “Emily...”

  “Listen,” Emily said. “You’re my friend; you’re my sister, in all the ways that matter. I do like you, I do care for you and I do want to spend time with you...”

  “You spent time with him at Cockatrice,” Frieda said.

  “I do have to work on the joint project,” Emily pointed out. “Frieda, I like you a great deal...”

  “But you don’t want me as a partner,” Frieda said. Her voice hardened again. “I had ideas above my station.”

  “I’m not interested in girls,” Emily said. She thought that was true; she’d shied away from both boys and girls on Earth. She’d seen Alassa naked plenty of times and felt nothing beyond abstract admiration. “And are you sure you’re interested in me?”

  “I...” Frieda looked down for a long moment, then looked up. “You’re wonderful. You saved countless lives.”

  And how many people will die in the future, Emily asked herself, because of the weapons and concepts I have introduced to the Allied Lands?

  She looked towards the Craggy Mountains and shuddered. Shadye’s lands were there, unprotected; it might not be long, now she’d visited the Dark Fortress, before another necromancer moved into his territory. And then there had been the orcs...Master Grey had been very interested in them, going over everything Emily had seen time and time again, until she felt as though her brain was starting to come apart. He’d pointed out, at the end, that a full-fledged breeding frenzy spelled bad news for the Allied Lands.

  We need better weapons and defenses, she reminded herself, bitterly. The battery felt heavy in her pocket, a mocking reminder of how badly she’d almost messed up over the summer. I might not be able to kill the third necromancer I meet.

  “I don’t think I’m wonderful,” she said. “I can make mistakes.”

  “So can I,” Frieda said. She took Emily’s hand. “Sergeant Miles said that Whitehall is a cork in a bottle. If Shadye had broken through, he would have been able to ravage the lands surrounding Whitehall for hundreds of miles. You stopped him.”

  “I still don’t feel wonderful,” Emily protested.

  “You need a bard singing those ballads about you,” Frieda said, sounding much more like her old self. “There was that guy with the really awful voice at the Faire...”

  “No,” Emily said, flatly. She’d heard seven or eight songs written about her - before the broadsheets, bards had been the quickest way to spread
news through the Allied Lands - and they were all appallingly bad. Most of them got the facts wrong, in one way or another; the two that were stunningly explicit were horribly embarrassing. “That will not boost my confidence.”

  Frieda looked doubtful. “Not even the one about...”

  “No,” Emily insisted. She had no idea which one Frieda meant, but they were all embarrassing. “I just need to learn from my mistakes.”

  She got up and helped Frieda to stand. “I’m sorry I don’t feel the way you do, but I do like you and I hope we can still be friends.”

  Frieda sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t have to be sorry for feeling anything,” Emily said. It was hard to wrap her head around the idea of anyone finding her attractive. “But I think you do owe Caleb an apology. How many others did you try to get to attack him?”

  “No one else,” Frieda said. “Just Johan.”

  Thank God, Emily thought.

  “You probably owe him an apology, too,” Emily said. She had no idea which of the two boys was stronger, but Caleb probably had better training. “I’m not sure what happened, but it wasn’t anything good.”

  Frieda gave her a sharp look. “How did you know it was me?”

  “You were mad at me and Caleb,” Emily said. “I couldn’t think of anyone else.”

  “He’ll want to kill me,” Frieda said. “They’ll both want to kill me.”

  “I don’t think they’ll be very happy, no,” Emily agreed. “Why don’t you spend the next hour thinking of ways you can make it up to them?”

  “I’ll try,” Frieda said. “Did...did you ever have a crush on anyone?”

  Emily hesitated before shaking her head in negation. She’d been isolated as a child, then her mother’s warnings had echoed in her head when she’d grown into a teenager...romantic feelings were dangerous. Romantic feelings led to being trapped in loveless marriages, with a child from a previous partner. Hell, Emily honestly didn’t know if her biological father and her mother had been married. The one time she’d asked, her mother had subjected her to a screaming fit that left her ears ringing for days.