Original Work Wolf In The Fold (Schooled in Magic 28)

Hi, everyone

Wolf In The Fold is the 28th volume of Schooled In Magic, a direct sequel to The Unnatural Order in which the confrontation between Emily and the Hierarchy finally comes into the light. It will probably not make much sense to you unless you have already read the earlier books - you can download the first few books in the series through Kindle Unlimited (link below) and I will forward copies of later books to anyone willing to offer comments on this book.

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0F79CC1MZ/?tag=survivalmonke-20

As always, I welcome comments and feedback. Everything from spelling mistakes to logic errors or contradictions would be very welcome.

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The Chrishanger

Thank you

Chris

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CGN

 

Prologue I

Only one person knew where the Hierarchical Fortress truly existed, the one person who sat at the top of a hierarchy of powerful, ambitious and unscrupulous magicians. Everyone else only gained access to the complex though magic, using the hierarchical soulmark to set the coordinates and teleport to the right location without ever knowing where they were going. It galled Nine, in so many ways, that she didn’t have the slightest idea where she was, even as she prepared herself for the contest of a lifetime. If she won, she’d be the first amongst magicians; if she lost …

No. She refused to consider the possibility. She would not – she could not – have issued the challenge if she hadn’t thought she would win, that she would rise to the top herself or confirm, once again, that the one at the top was worthy of his post. The challenge was in the best interests of herself, but also in the best interests of the Hierarchy. The soulmark demanded no less.

She felt nothing, but calm anticipation as she made her way through the maze of corridors. There were no adornments in the Hierarchical Fortress, no decorations to remind the occupants of their power and place, nothing those insecure in their rule might need to prove themselves to sceptical eyes. The Hierarchy needed no proof, beyond its power; anyone who trod the halls knew where they belonged, beyond all doubt, and cared little for the judgement of others. The stone walls, magic running through them to ensure none but the Hierarchy ever set foot within the complex, were utterly unmarked, impossible to navigate without the soulmark. She felt it pulse as she reached the top of the stairs and walked down into the bowels of the world. There were no guards. No checkpoints. No one, but the Hierarchy walked these stairs.

The arena was miles below the ground, a simple stone chamber protected by the strongest and most subtle of spells. Wards flickered on the stone, barely visible even to a skilled magician … a reminder, once again, that true power lay not in flashy displays but acts that could change the world. Most magicians would overlook the fortress, if they happened to be searching the area, and the few who might see through the outer layer of deception wouldn’t live long enough to report to their superiors. They wouldn’t be killed or permanently transformed so much as they’d be erased from existence, ensuring that very few even remembered they existed.

Nine smiled, coldly. If you have enough power, you can do anything. And soon I will have the greatest power of all.

She allowed the smile to linger on her face. The Hierarchy wielded power and influence on a scale few could imagine, keeping its mere existence a secret from most while trading knowledge and power with the few who did know they existed in exchange for raw materials or later favours that might be worth two or three times what they’d paid for it. The magical families kept the deals, for fear of what would happen if they didn’t; they knew, even as others didn’t believe that the Hierarchy even existed, that it had agents scattered across the world, men and women who could extract revenge on anyone who tried to go back on the deal. It was thrilling to realise that she stood at the heart of a locus of power, one that was all the more powerful for being invisible to the average magician, let alone the mundanes. The secret rulers of the world couldn’t be overthrown if no one even knew they existed, let alone how easily they could pull strings to influence events to their heart’s content.

The soulmark burnt, briefly, as she waited, taking a long breath as the seconds ticked by. It had been nearly forty years since she’d been recruited, thirty since she’d passed the final tests in the school and graduated to take the soulmark and become a true Hierarchist. She had lost track of the classmates she’d killed or sacrificed in a desperate struggle for power, long forgotten any sense of morality she had had … she’d even forgotten her name and family, when the soulmark had been bound to her very soul. The memories darted through her mind – a weak girl who’s only use had been sacrifice, a boy who had been bound to her service – and vanished again. The world was red in tooth and claw, a reality the Hierarchy refused to pretend didn’t exist even as the magical families and monarchies clung to their warped moralities. There was no right or wrong, no objective sense of justice, merely power and the will to seize it, to take the world by the throat and bend it to your will. Today, she would rise to her apotheosis, or embrace her nemesis. Either way, the Hierarchy won.

Magic flickered through the air. Zero stood there, watching her with an utterly unreadable expression. He looked completely harmless, a doddering old man far past his prime, but Nine refused to be fooled. Being underestimated was always safer, in the long run, and few survived an encounter with the most powerful magician in the known world. His white hair and wrinkled skin masked true power, his footsteps echoing with surprising purpose even as he leaned on a cane. If he truly needed it, Nine would be astonished. Zero had more than enough raw power to prolong his life for centuries.

She didn’t know his story. She guessed it was very like her own.

Zero straightened, his eyes lingering on her. “You have come to challenge?”

“Yes.” Nine felt her heart begin to race, even as she prepared herself for the greatest fight of her life. The soulmark prevented all underhand techniques, from poison to blackmail, ensuring she had to play fair and follow the rules. She needed to win through raw power and magical cleverness, not cheating. The restriction made sense. If she wanted to win, she had to deserve it. “I have come to take my place at the top.”

Zero smiled. “And you have not yet reached your limit?”

Nine took a breath. She’d been a Thousand, then a Hundred, and finally climbed up into the Ten. She had had her ups and downs, she couldn’t deny it, but she’d never run into anything that could stop her climb. Her path was marked with dead bodies, the two Hierarchists she’d killed to claim their former places and countless others, people who’d served more as raw materials for her spells than anything more meaningful. She cared nothing for them, merely for her climb to the top. The very highest level was beckoning to her. And all she had to do to take it was to kill the man in front of her.

“No.” Nine met his eyes evenly. “I have not.”

“Very good,” Zero said. His tone was sincere. He too was devoted to the goals of the Hierarchy. His soulmark would allow no less. If she was his superior, it was right and proper she should take his place. His death was unfortunate, but she had to gamble everything to win everything. “If that is your choice, step into the ring.”

Nine didn’t hesitate. She could have backed out at any moment, remaining a lowly Thousand, or Hundred, or even a Ten. Or she could have retired, giving up her rank and settling into a comfortable life where her subordinates weren’t trying to kill her. The thought wasn’t remotely temping, not when the very highest post of all was within her sight. She wanted, she needed, to claim it for herself. She could no more back down than she could cut her own throat.

She stepped forward, feeling the magic envelop her the moment she crossed the line. They’d unleash terrible forces in their bid for supremacy, but those forces would be contained within the wards. The fortress itself would remain unharmed, waiting for its new mistress to claim her throne. Anticipation swelled within her as she felt her magic rising to the challenge, a hundred new spells bristling to kill. She had pushed the limits as far as they could go, incorporating lessons from the New Learning and Magitech into her preparations. Zero was not someone to underestimate, of course not, but using Magitech concepts would catch him by surprise. Decades, perhaps centuries, of experience couldn’t have prepared him for a new branch of magic that was only a couple of years old.

“It is time,” Zero said. He couldn’t decline the challenge, he couldn’t even surrender. His soulmark made sure of it. “Let us see …”

He stepped across the line. Nine didn’t hesitate. She raised her power and cast the first set of spells in one smooth motion, a combination of lethal and illusionary spells crackling against his wards. She hadn’t expected it to work, she certainly hadn’t expected to win in the first few moments of their duel, but knocking him off balance could only work in her favour. She’d woven cancelation charms into her barrage, hoping to cripple his retaliatory strike. There was no way to take his prepared spells down completely, not without knowing how to break into his protective aura, but …

She blinked as the spellware simply came apart, spell components and incants bristling in front of her before shattering into nothingness. No … being absorbed, her neatest tricks taken to pieces, studied in the blink of an eye and then added to Zero’s own skills. A flicker of doubt ran through her as she cast a second set of spells, resorting to brute force while preparing something a great deal more subtle. Raw magic crashed around Zero, bouncing off the wards and spiralling through the air … his hands moved in a simple pattern, absorbing or channelling the power she’d thrown at him. It was an impressive demonstration of his abilities, a sight few had seen and fewer still could master. Nine wondered, just for a second, if she’d made a terrible mistake. She’d unleashed enough power to shatter a town and he was playing with it as if it were water.

And she was committed now.

She reached for her magic and crashed forward, using herself as a decoy while trying to inch spells around behind him and slip into his back, tearing his charms apart from the rear. Zero stepped forwards, his raw magic slamming into hers, challenging her on multiple levels and pushing her to breaking point. Nine kept forcing herself forward, knowing there was no other way out, and felt his wards start to shatter. She was breaking through!

She felt a moment of relief, of victory, before his face shifted and started to change. Horror ran through her as she stared at her worst nightmare, at … she realised, too late, that they’d all been fooled, that she’d made a dreadful mistake. The Hierarchy wasn’t what they’d thought it was and now … she was doomed. There was no escape. Multicoloured light flared around her, a final mocking reminder of her own failure …

And then the world went away in a final – endless – moment of pure agony.

 

Prologue II

The knife felt solid, real in his hand.

Resolute stared at the blade for a long moment, willing himself to muster the nerve to stab himself in the chest or cut his own throat or something, anything, other than living the rest of his life a powerless mundane, a helpless beggar on the streets of a town so far from Celeste it had never impinged on his awareness. He didn’t even know the town’s name, when his desperate flight from Zugzwang had taken him down the river and into the larger down, but … he stared at the blade and lowered it, unable to force himself to take that final step. He had fallen as far as a magician could fall and yet he couldn’t end it. He was a failure, a failure so complete he couldn’t even kill himself. His existence was over and yet it would never end.

Despair howled at the back of his mind as he sagged to his knees. He’d never known what it was like to live on the streets, not until he’d been stripped of his power and tossed out to live life as a powerless mundane. His fine clothes had been stolen long ago, the handful of garments he now wore so disgusting he could no longer bear to smell himself. The good food and drink he’d enjoyed back home was nothing but a memory now, leaving him forced to beg for something – anything – to keep himself alive. He’d learned harsh lessons in the last week, learnt to spend what little money he had before it was stolen, learnt to keep his food to himself … learnt that no matter what happened, there was always further to fall. Two gangs of beggars had kicked him out, a third had demanded a price he was unwilling to pay, if he wanted to find shelter with them. And yet, part of him knew it was just a matter of time before hunger and cold drove him back to them, to offer anything they wanted in exchange for a few hours of warmth. It was an unbearable thought.

He’d ruled a city. Now, he was a beggar.

Sheer hatred burned through Resolute, mingling with shame. There was no one he could turn to for help. None of his old clients would lift a finger to assist him, if they knew what had happened. He’d preached the gospel of the strong having the right to dominate the weak for so long that he had no doubts about what would happen to him, now he was one of the weak himself. His old allies would laugh when they heard, then turn away to keep from losing their power themselves. A magician who lost his magic was an object of scorn and pity, a cripple in a world that was very unkind to those with disabilities, and no one dared look too closely for fear it was catching. For all he knew, it might be. He had thought himself the epitome of magical power and yet Emily had stolen his magic, leaving him helpless and alone.

She hadn’t killed him. He knew it hadn’t been an act of mercy.

The hatred grew stronger, mingled with helplessness. Emily was powerful, personally and politically, and now he had no power at all. He knew the way to her tower, he knew enough tricks to get through the outer layer of defences, and … and then what? She could destroy him with the flick of a finger, or turn him into a slug, or something – anything – he couldn’t hope to stop. Perhaps she would curse him, as so many mundane residents of his city – his former city – had been cursed. It had seemed funny back then, little tricks to put the mundanes in their place and remind them they only lived in the city of sorcerers through sufferance. Now … he knew better. It wasn’t funny at all. But it was far too late.

He clenched his fists, then opened his fingers and moved them in a simple pattern. It was a very simple spell and his movements were perfect, but nothing happened. Of course not. He’d lost his magic, leaving him begging for scraps while Emily took his city for himself. He had no idea what was happening in Celeste, nor did he know how to get back there, but he knew power all too well. Emily would take the city, because she had power and knew how to use it. Resolute had no idea why she’d pretended not to be the inventor of Magitech – the idea of a mundane inventing a whole new branch of magic was just absurd – but it hardly mattered. She would take the city and reshape it in her image, while he lived and died on the streets of a nameless town. He shivered. It was supposed to be summer, or so he’d been told, and yet it was cold. He didn’t know if he’d live through the winter.

She has my daughter too, he thought, helplessness gnawing at his mind. He knew what he’d do to the child of a rival, and he knew Emily would do no less. She’ll ruin her life because she can and …

“My,” a calm voice said. “A bit of a come down, isn’t it?”

Resolute flinched. He’d spent most of his life in warded chambers, places where even a powerful magician would have trouble entering without setting off the alarms. He hadn’t grown used to the sheer lack of safety on the streets, even in alleyways. The thugs who’d stolen his clothes and beaten him up had taken him by surprise, and yet … it wouldn’t have mattered if he had had any warning. They would have still thumped him. He was surprised they hadn’t killed him.

The man behind him was a stranger, he realised numbly. White hair, kindly face … probably a mask hiding a far darker reality. He didn’t know if that was good or bad. It could easily be both.

“What do you want?”

“Such a question.” The man cocked his head. “You ruled a city. You had all the magic you could ever want. And now you’re grubbing in the dirt.”

Resolute flushed, his stomach growling angrily. “What do you want?”

“You could spend the rest of your life here,” the stranger pointed out. “Grubbing in the dirt … you’re not the best state, you know. You won’t last a year.”

“I know.” Resolute felt despair, once again. He’d been portly a couple of weeks ago. Now … he could feel himself losing weight, his skin starting to sit oddly on his bones. “If you’re here to gloat, get lost.”

The stranger laughed. “I’m not here to hurt you, Grand Sorcerer. I’m here to give you an opportunity for revenge. On Emily and everyone else who did hurt you.”

Resolute laughed, bitterly. It was rare for a magician to lose their powers, rarer still for them to regain their magic. He’d only heard of it happening once and … in truth, he wasn’t sure it had happened at all. The rumours about Emily losing her powers had lost steam once everyone saw her casting spells once again, not making any attempt to hide her power. The Cognoscenti had decided it was just another malicious rumour, one of millions that burst into the light and excited everyone before vanishing as quickly as it came. Resolute saw no reason to doubt it. He’d seen Emily using magic himself.

And yet, he couldn’t keep himself from asking. “Can you give me back my magic?”

The stranger smiled. “In a manner of speaking, Grand Sorcerer, but there will be a price.”

Resolute didn’t hesitate. “Anything.”

 

Chapter One

“You said yes?”

Emily blushed as Alassa leaned closer, smiling so widely her face seemed to glow from within. “You said yes?”

“I did,” Emily said. Caleb had asked her to marry him and … she’d said yes. “I … I’m going to get married!”

Alassa squealed. Emily felt her face grow redder. She hadn’t quite realised just how important her wedding would be, to her friends as well as the happy couple, or just how delighted they’d be to hear she was tying the knot. It was hard to believe it, hard to accept how many people thought they had a right to be involved … she told herself not to be silly. They were her friends and yet … she wondered, suddenly, if they should just elope. It wouldn’t be that hard to arrange a quick wedding in some out of the way place, get it over with before everyone else tried to get involved.

“You and Caleb make a cute couple,” Alassa teased. “I’m glad you finally got around to admitting it.”

Emily looked down. “It took a while.”

“Obviously so,” Alassa said. “I knew I wanted Jade the moment I laid eyes on him.”

“It was different for you,” Emily pointed out. The less said about Alassa’s wedding, the better. “You needed to convince your father as well as Jade.”

She felt a flicker of sympathy. Jade was powerful as well as skilled and yet … his lack of aristocratic blood had both hampered and helped him, when he’d faced King Randor to ask for Alassa’s hand in marriage. The advantages of having a husband who didn’t have awkward relations were matched, perhaps outweighed, by the lack of any real connections to any other kingdoms. Or centres of power. King Randor had agreed, but Emily was sure he’d spent hours weighing up the pros and cons before giving his approval. The certain knowledge Alassa was likely to go ahead anyway had weighed on his mind.

“So do you.” Alassa was suddenly serious. “You are a great noblewoman, you know.”

Emily rubbed her forehead. She found it hard to think of herself as someone important, certainly someone born to power and privilege … because, in the end, she hadn’t. She had been a nobody on Earth, a person destined to live and die without making any kind of impact on the world around her. The idea she was now so important that her wedding was a matter of state security, that her marriage needed the approval of her closest friend … it was absurd. And yet, it was real.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered. She’d put Alassa in a bad spot and she knew it. “I didn’t mean to cause you trouble.”

Alassa poked her in the chest. “It isn’t a problem,” she said, deadpan. “Thankfully, you came to see me first.”

She painted a look of mock outrage on her face. “You did come to see me first, right?”

“Yes.” Emily hadn’t meant to discuss her wedding, not when there were more important problems to address, but it had worked out in her favour. “You’re the first person to know. Except us, of course.”

“Of course.” Alassa met her eyes. “You did think about the political implications, right?”

“They never crossed my mind,” Emily admitted. “I didn’t think of them …”

She sighed, inwardly. They were friends, but they also had a relationship as subject and monarch. A baroness needed her monarch’s approval to marry and not asking for approval was more than just a failure to follow the proper etiquette, it was a sign she no longer felt she needed to consult the country’s ruler before taking the plunge. An overmighty aristocrat would become a serious threat to the kingdom’s stability, forcing the monarch into a confrontation that would do immense damage even if the monarch won … or worse, leave the aristocrat alone and confirm for all time that he couldn’t bring a rogue nobleman to heel. If word had gotten out before it was too late …

“There’s no real reason to disapprove.” Alassa ticked off points on her fingers as she spoke. “Caleb’s family are well known and respected, as well as powerful. He’s a magician himself so he’s effectively your social equal regardless of his roots. Being a child of Beneficence may cause problems, but he’ll be your legal consort rather than lord husband so those issues can be smoothed over. At worst, they’ll strip him of his citizenship … not a problem given that he lives in Heart’s Eye now. You don’t get to make alliances with other nobles, and I imagine a few will be pissed you didn’t choose them, but …”

She shrugged. “These issues can be smoothed over.”

Emily snorted. “If they wanted to marry me, or have their sons marry me, you’d think they’d make more diplomatic approaches.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d found the correspondence potential husbands and their families had sent to Void, thousands of letters from the great and the good and those with delusions of grandeur. Some had offered vast sums for her hand in marriage, others had argued or pleaded or even resorted to threats … brave of them, she supposed, when Void had been the most powerful magician in the Allied Lands as well as her legal guardian. Some letters had made her violently angry, others had made her cringe. It was bad enough being courted by men old enough to be her father, who seemed to think she should be flattered by the attention, but far worse to read letters written on behalf of sons, grandsons and nephews. She hoped to hell the writers had at least asked their relatives before trying to arrange their marriages …she doubted it. She’d recognised a couple of the names and one, a former student at Whitehall, preferred men to women. He wouldn’t have kissed a woman even if he were offered a kingdom.

Poor bastard, she thought. Most aristocratic marriages were arranged, but still … it was neither nice nor kind. If he’s married off now …

She put the thought aside. “My neighbours will be pleased.”

“If they can’t have you,” Alassa agreed, “at least their rivals can’t have you either.”

She smiled, then sobered. “That’s a relief.”

“I guess so.” Emily ran her hand though her hair. “Would you have given your blessing to the match if I had?”

Alassa looked back at her. “Would you have listened to me if I had?”

“I don’t know,” Emily admitted. If her heart had wanted such a young man, would she have defied her best friend as well as her monarch? Or … or what? “I’m glad it didn’t happen. I don’t want to know.”

“Now, you’ll be wanting a big wedding,” Alassa continued. “Everyone will be invited, of course.”

Emily felt her heart sink. She should have expected it. An aristocratic wedding was one hell of a social event and she was high enough to make her wedding the social event of the year. She would need to invite every last nobleman in the kingdom, as well as senior magicians from right across the Allied Lands, and if she missed even one it would be a grave insult. So would failing to attend after receiving an invite. She would have to invite people she didn’t know or want at her wedding, and they would have to attend despite not wanting to … she shook her head in annoyance. The merest hint of exclusion would cause problems that would linger for years, perhaps decades. She knew some family feuds that dated all the way back to a wedding held so long ago that everyone involved had been dead for centuries.

“We could just elope,” Emily offered. The logistics were going to be a nightmare. “Or hold the wedding somewhere hard to reach …”

Alassa snorted. “There are people who would crawl over broken glass to attend your wedding,” she said. “And it will be my pleasure to arrange it for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Emily said. “If I …”

“There are hundreds of people who know you and love you who would want to attend,” Alassa pointed out. “Me, of course. Imaiqah and Jade and Frieda and … everyone. Even Marah, if she shows her face once again. And you can’t invite just your friends, for fear of insulting everyone who isn’t invited. The wedding won’t just be about you and him, but everyone.”

“Charming.” Emily shook her head. “How many deals were made at your wedding?”

“Hundreds, perhaps thousands,” Alassa said. “I couldn’t tell you. So many people, meeting together on neutral ground, bound by the ceremonial rules of weddings … not that some people bothered to keep them. I think … there’s really no way to avoid it. Sorry.”

Emily sighed. The rules were very simple. Weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions and no one was supposed to fight, no matter the cause. Bitter enemies were expected to sit down together and be reasonably courteous and polite to one another, no matter how much they’d prefer to draw their swords and fight to the death. It provided cover for all sorts of private meetings, backroom wheeling and dealing … even discussions and relationships between people who could never meet in public, certainly not as equals. A wedding could give birth to several more, as young boys and girls were allowed to meet under supervision while their parents discussed the terms of the marriage contract. It wasn’t unknown for diplomats to use the opportunity to talk openly, while maintaining plausible deniability. Everyone knew it happened and everyone turned a blind eye.

“Look on the bright side,” Alassa added. “You’re bound to be given hundreds of gifts.”

Emily looked her in the eye. “How many of your gifts remain untouched?”

Alassa shrugged. She and Jade had been given thousands of gifts, mostly chosen to showcase the giver’s generosity rather than anything practical. A handful were useful, or had some degree of sentimental value; the remainder had been placed in storage, kept solely because the giver would be mortally offended if they were passed on or simply discarded. Emily found it hard to comprehend the mindset of someone who thought a portrait of himself was a suitable gift, but she supposed it could be worse. Probably. A handful of aristos had offered gifts that were little more than white elephants, designed to be impossible to refuse and yet expensive to keep.

“I can pass them on to you, if you like,” Alassa said. “You want a genealogy dating back a few thousand years?”

“Not if I can help it,” Emily said. The aristos claimed they could trace their bloodlines back for hundreds, if not thousands, of years, but she was fairly sure the detailed family trees were little more than nonsense. Reliable history went back five hundred years at most and that was being generous. Anything earlier than that had gone through so many interpretations it was dangerously unreliable. “Was that the most useless gift you were offered?”

“Probably.” Alassa shrugged. “You just have to put up with it.”

“Or I can ask for no one to offer gifts,” Emily said. “They can donate to my charities instead.”

Alassa widened her eyes in mock shock, her tone brimming with faked outrage. “But they’ll be denied the chance to show off their wealth and power!”

Emily had to smile, although it wasn’t really funny. “They can show off by donating to the charities I support,” she said. It was about the only traditional role for an aristocratic woman she’d embraced. “And the money can go to a better cause then gold-studded toilets and portraits I don’t want to hang in my halls.”

“I did hang a painting of Lord Fowler in mine,” Alassa said. “Jade uses it for target practice.”

“Better not tell him that,” Emily teased. Lord Fowler was a notorious bore. “What did you tell him.”

Alassa smirked. “I think he’d be happy knowing his portrait is hanging where I can see it.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Emily said. “Is it at least a good portrait?”

“I don’t know who sat for it,” Alassa said. “But I’d bet it wasn’t Lord Fowler.”

Emily nodded in agreement. There were hundreds, if not thousands, of portraits of her running around the kingdom and very few looked even remotely like her. Some artists were working from descriptions, others were using their imagination to the point they got just about everything wrong. Hair colour, skin tone, dress sense and breast size and eye colour ... she wondered, sometimes, if the paintings had been of someone else and simply renamed to suit a new customer. It defied belief that someone could hang a portrait of a woman who looked like Emma Watson right next to a portrait of someone who could pass for Freema Agyeman and insist they were the same person. But they did.

She let out a long breath. “Don’t go mad. Please.”

“Go mad?” Alassa blinked. “Why would I?”

“The wedding, I mean,” Emily said. “I don’t want it to be crazy. Just …”

It wasn’t going to work, she knew, even as she spoke. There was no way Alassa could avoid making a big song and dance out of it, no matter what Emily said. People would talk if she hosted a small wedding, people would insist it was a subtle punishment to Emily, perhaps even a sign they were no longer friends. And then the people who had assassins and broadsheet writers on the payroll would start thinking they could take advantage of the crisis, even though the crisis existed only in their minds. Alassa would be derelict in her duty if she didn’t put on a wedding that would satisfy the craziest bridezilla.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Alassa said. Her lips twisted. “No one will mind if I make it more about the kingdom, and me, then you. Or him.”

Emily suspected she knew a lot of aristocrats who’d be irked at the suggestion their wedding should be about someone or something else, but … she didn’t care.

“Of course, you’re going to have to decide where you want to hold the main ceremony,” Alassa continued. “Here? Cockatrice? Heart’s Eye? Or even Whitehall? The Grandmaster would have to give permission, of course, but I can’t imagine him saying no. You’re the most famous magician in living memory, so …”

“I’ll think about it later,” Emily said, holding up a hand. “Just … remember I’m not marrying myself. There’s someone else involved.”

“Caleb will be fine,” Alassa promised. “I’ll make sure he has something to do.”

“Trying to scare him off, are you?” Emily met her eyes. “Caleb isn’t Jade, you know. He won’t like being put on a pedestal.”

“Jade’s not fond of it too,” Alassa said. “But that suits us both fine.”

Emily nodded in sympathy. Zangaria had never had a female monarch until Alassa and it wasn’t easy for a young woman to rule alone, while her husband was expected to be the power behind the throne. Alassa was lucky Jade had no inclination to rule, no conviction he was entitled to be in charge because he had a penis. He’d been to Whitehall, where any belief in inherent male superiority would have been squashed by female tutors and students, and besides, he had very little to prove. He didn’t need to dominate his wife … not like Lord Darnley. Mary Queen of Scots had been a poor judge of character, right from the start, but her second husband had been a fatal mistake. The only good thing he’d done had been fathering her child.

Alassa met her eyes. “You do realise you’ll be expected to have children?”

Emily felt a complex mixture of emotions. She wanted children and yet she feared becoming her mother, a drunken sot who’d abandoned her daughter to the tender mercies of her stepfather. Caleb wanted children too … did he? They’d never really talked about it. And … she didn’t like the idea of needing to have children, even though her barony needed a heir. The closest thing she had to a child was Frieda and they weren’t blood relatives. God alone knew what would happen if she died without issue.

“It has been made clear to me,” she said, sourly.

She felt her lips twist in bitter annoyance. The Cockatrice Council had petitioned her to get married. Or adopt. Or something – anything – that ensured she’d have a legal successor to continue her work. Her modern sensibilities insisted they were out of line for even suggesting she had a duty to have kids, her awareness of the political realties made her all too aware they had a point. If the barony was handed over to someone new, the council might find its freedoms severely limited, perhaps even crushed. There would be civil war and no matter who won, the land would be devastated.

“I’ll see what happens,” she said, after a moment. The idea of childbirth scared her, even though she could be sure of the very best medical care the world could provide. “Is that acceptable?”

“You’ll find that having kids changes you,” Alassa said. She pressed her hand lightly against her abdomen. “I haven’t told anyone yet, but …”

Emily grinned. “You’re pregnant again?”

“Thank so.” Alassa smiled back. “It’s not customary to announce a pregnancy until the first three months have passed …”

“I know.” Emily didn’t take offense. She understood the reasoning all too well. A royal child, even a second-born, would alter the line of succession, forcing everyone to adjust their plans accordingly. Better not to confirm there was a child on the way until the healers were sure the pregnancy would last. “I hope it goes well for you.”

Alassa sat back. “I suppose,” she said, as the bell rang. “Dinnertime. Jade will be there, to offer his congratulations. And then you can tell us why you really came here.”

 

Chapter Two

There were four dining rooms within the Royal Suite, a public chamber and three private chambers, two open to close friends and the third reserved for the royal family alone. Emily knew it was a sign of great favour that she was allowed to enter the third chamber, although she also knew the servants were allowed to come and go at will, bringing food before retiring to let the guests eat in peace. It had never struck her as very private, but she understood the problem. They couldn’t expected to cook and serve their own food.

“It’s very good to hear you’re finally tying the knot,” Imaiqah said. Emily’s oldest friend winked at her from across the table. “I’m just sorry for all the hassle you’re about to face.”

“Not for a while,” Emily said. “We agreed we’d get married in six months, after the current crisis is over.”

“That’s not much time,” Alassa teased. “You do realise everyone is going to have to be informed?”

Emily sighed, inwardly. It wasn’t as simple as it sounded, even with teleporters on standby to bring the guests to the wedding and then take them home again. A great many people would have to clear their schedules for the day, if not the week, and then start making preparations for everything from clothing to wedding presents. It made the whole idea of setting up a wedding registry look sensible, although she’d heard all sorts of horror stories about couples who put expensive gifts on the list and then moaned when they didn’t get them. At least they were asking for something they wanted. For her …

“Six months,” Imaiqah mused. “We should be able to organise a very basic wedding by then.”

“Very basic,” Jade repeated. “Very … basic.”

Emily shared a look with him. “I don’t need a fuss,” she said, trying to convey a message with her eyes. Jade was very perceptive, but … most men were poor at picking up subtle hints. “I just need a simple ceremony.”

“So a few thousand guests, a ten-course dinner, endless speeches by people who know you or at least want to convince the audience they do …” Imaiqah smiled, rather dryly. “I think we can get everyone together for it.

Jade, thankfully, picked up the hint. “You said you had something else to discuss,” he noted. “I assume it wasn’t anything to do with the wedding?”

“Aw,” Alassa said.

Emily didn’t try to hide her relief. The wedding discussion was getting out of hand already and it had only been a day since Caleb had popped the question. She didn’t want to think about what would happen over the weeks and months before the ceremony, from diplomatic incidents to outright conflicts between bridesmaids, guests of honour and everyone else who thought that merely securing an invite made them important. There would be disputes over precedents, arguments over which young girls should be invited to carry her train … she shook her head in dismay. Perhaps they should have just gotten married on the spot, before telling everyone else. It would be a diplomatic incident in every sense of the word, but at least it would be over soon.

“We went to Celeste,” Emily said, shortly. “The regime has been crippled. The mundanes have been given a chance to leave, and most have. Heart’s Ease will benefit from their presence if they don’t want to go elsewhere. The magicians will have to run their lives without mundanes doing all the grunt work.”

Her lips twisted in disgust. She wanted to destroy the magical supremacist regime beyond all hope of revival. It had ruled openly for only a few months and yet it had managed to rack up hundreds of crimes against humanity, from taking magical children away from mundane parents to enslaving or permanently transfiguring mundanes who dared to protest. The sheer scale of the atrocities had shocked her, all the more so because they were more … mundane … than mad plans to rule or destroy the world. The necromancers had wanted to drain the world of power. The supremacists had wanted to trap the world in a living death.

And even if you happen to be one of the ruling class, it’s not a very safe place to be, Emily mused. The Handmaid’s Tale was a story of unrelenting horror, for the rulers of Gilead as well as the poor women in their thrall. The regime would have the same problem sooner or later and they still might, even though we got most of their slaves out.

She took a breath. “What we don’t know is what the Hierarchy was doing in the city,” she added, grimly. “They were collecting magic and funnelling it through a portal ….”

“A portal to where?” Jade rubbed his chin. “It could be anywhere.”

“Boswell, the Hierarchy’s agent, said it was in Kuching,” Emily said. “But it’s hard to believe they managed to set up a base under Cat’s nose.”

Imaiqah giggled. “That could prove embarrassing.”

Emily knew she wasn’t taking about the Hierarchy. “I’m sure everyone will handle it professionally,” she said, trying to hide her own concerns. “But yes, I don’t think that’s where they’re truly based.”

“So they were lying,” Jade said. “Or trying to mislead you.”

“Yeah.” Emily shook her head. “We have to check it out anyway, and then look for other possible bases.”

She scowled. The world was a big place … and the portal could have led absolutely anywhere, anywhere at all. The idea of searching an entire planet, or even just the northern continent, was absurd. They had to trace the portal and she had a nasty feeling it was impossible, no matter how many charmsmiths were recruited to examine the remains. The whole affair might wind up being nothing more than an exercise in futility.

“Or it’s a trap,” Alassa said, quietly. “They might be waiting for you.”

Emily frowned. Alassa might well be right, but Kuching was hardly an easy place for someone to set up an ambush. Unless that was what the Hierarchy wanted her to think … she shook her head, reminding herself she shouldn’t let herself fall to paranoia. Cat wouldn’t turn on her, nor would his apprentices and settlers … the Hierarchy might have agents near the nexus point under his castle, but actually mounting an offensive … she didn’t think it possible. Not unless they had something very nasty up their sleeves.

Which they might, she mused. They’re not confined by the old disdain for technology and magitech. They’ve already found ways to improve upon our concepts and even come up with some new ones. Who knows what else they might have waiting for us, in the shadows?

“It could be,” she conceded, reluctantly. Cat wouldn’t do her any harm, but he couldn’t vouch for all of his settlers. They were very much a ragtag bunch. “We’ll be careful, of course, but …”

She shrugged, expressively. If it was a trap, they might have no choice but to spring it. There were few other ways of tracking down the Hierarchy, not unless she came up with something new herself. Or Adam. They might get lucky, but she knew better than to count on it. The Hierarchy was old, older than the Allied Lands. She supposed that added credence to the suggestion the Hierarchy might be based somewhere in the Blighted Lands. They hadn’t been a nightmarish landscape when the Hierarchy had been founded. If the stories were true …

Yeah, her thoughts pointed out. If.

Jade glanced at his wife, a silent communication flickering between them, then met her eyes. “What do you need from us?”

Emily felt a twinge of envy. They were so close … she and Caleb were close too, true, but not that close. Perhaps it was a closeness that came with years of marriage. Jade and Alassa had been married for three years now, and had a little girl. Emily made a mental note to visit her namesake before she left the castle, just in case. If the whole plan went horrifically wrong …

“I may need troops,” she said, her lips twisting at their sudden surprise. “Can you place a handful of men on standby, to be ready to deploy when I need them?”

Jade blinked. “Who are you, and what have you done with Emily?”

Emily snorted. She understood his surprise. She might have taken Martial Magic with him and Cat and a bunch of other students, but she’d never been a soldier and most of her battles had been fought alone or with a handful of good friends. Even when facing the necromancers or Void, when troops had been involved as well as magicians, she’d left soldiering to the experts. It was very out of character for her to ask for troops to be put at her disposal. She’d never bothered to raise even the handful of men she was legally allowed to raise to defend Cockatrice. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake.

“I have a nasty feeling we’re going to need them,” she said. “I don’t know what the Hierarchy is planning, but I think it’s going to be bad.”

Alassa considered it for a long moment. “I can put the troops on standby,” she said. “How do you plan to get them to the target?”

“Teleport, or portals,” Emily said. It was easier to teleport now, thanks to her. And Adam. “I don’t want an army accompanying me, but … I’d like to have them on call, if I need them.”

“I can lead them in person,” Jade said. “Will that be acceptable?”

“It depends on where you’re taking them,” Alassa said, more to Emily than her husband. “You know what’ll happen if they’re sent to Red Rose or even Alluvia.”

Emily felt a flicker of frustration. “You know what could happen if the Hierarchy gets a chance to put its plan into action.”

“Yes,” Alassa said, flatly. “What is it planning to do?”

“I don’t know,” Emily said. “But they stockpiled a vast amount of raw magic.”

Imaiqah cocked her head. “What could you do, with that amount of magic at your disposal?”

“Assuming I had a way to channel it safely …?” Emily had no idea how the Hierarchy intended to do it. Channelling so much power through a human brain would fry it, while magitech couldn’t handle even a thousandth of the power she thought the Hierarchy had gathered. If they intended to use a nexus point to create wards to channel the power … why would they need to gather and store it in the first place? “I don’t know.”

She stared at her hands for a long moment. Void had told her, more than once, that if you had enough magic you could do anything. She’d seen him conjure small items into existence, shaping them out of raw magic and – somehow – making them permanent … even for him, the trick had been draining, a reminder there were some barriers that were hard to cross. The Hierarchy appeared to have collected enough magic to do anything, and yet … how did they even plan to use it? They’d be safer experimenting with radioactive waste from a poorly-designed nuclear power plant. Or messing around in the ruins of Chernobyl. Anything she could imagine required a great deal less power, or containment and control wards she’d always considered theoretically impossible.

Just because I can’t imagine something workable doesn’t mean they can’t, she mused, sourly. They’ve had years to come up with ways to use it.

“Could they be channelling the magic into batteries?” Jade was still thinking about the problem. “A number of smaller spells, instead of one big one?”

“You wouldn’t need to go to such extremes,” Emily pointed out. “You could just assemble a bunch of magicians and make them fill the batteries. You don’t need to take over a whole city and drain it dry.”

“No,” Alassa agreed. “Unless the regime was going to take power anyway and the Hierarchy decided to simply take advantage of it.”

Emily frowned. Boswell had been a secretary, an assistant to the Grand Sorcerer. Not the sort of person to be considered important, the sort of person who might be overlooked by the great and powerful, but … Stalin had been a general secretary. A capable man in such a position could accomplish much, and Boswell had. And it was true tensions had been rising for years …

“I’ll ask them when we find them,” she said, finally. “Right now, whatever they’re doing, we have to stop it.”

“I’ll put the troops on standby,” Alassa said, again. “But they cannot be deployed within the Allied Lands. Not without permission.”

Emily swallowed a flash of irritation. Alassa was right. Zangarian troops entering Red Rose or another kingdom was an act of war, something that could easily set off a wider conflict if the invaded kingdom chose to react with force. The days in which an incursion could go unnoticed long enough for the troops to complete their mission and withdraw were gone, ensuring that they could be chased down and trapped if the kingdom had time to react. Even if they got out … there would be no such thing as plausible deniability. No, she had to be careful. If the Hierarchy was located on the northern continent, they couldn’t deploy troops without permission,

“I understand,” she said. “Put the diplomats on standby too?”

Alassa didn’t smile. “I wouldn’t be happy allowing troops to enter my kingdom, no matter how well they behave,” she said. “The other monarchs will feel the same way too.”

“Better hope the Hierarchy is located in Kuching,” Jade said. “Cat’s got enough troops to deal with it.”

Emily nodded, mentally kicking herself for not raising troops. A baroness was allowed a number of bodyguards – called lifeguards, which had always made her smile – and several companies of troops. She knew for a fact that most aristocrats played fast and loose with the rules, exploiting loopholes to keep more household troops than they were legally allowed or developing links with mercenaries to ensure they could call on their men if the shit hit the fan. She had never seen the need … in hindsight, perhaps that had been a mistake. Her reputation didn’t provide as much protection for her barony as she might wish.

And if something happens to me, the people will be exposed, Emily thought. There were plenty of examples of powerful sorcerers protecting local communities, which had thrived until the sorcerer died and the community was suddenly vulnerable. That’s something I should probably deal with, before it’s too late.

She put the thought aside for later contemplation, then leaned forward. “I know it’s a big thing to ask,” she said. “But I think we need them.”

“I agree.” Alassa met her eyes. “You wouldn’t be asking unless you thought it important.”

Emily relaxed, slightly, as a wave of relief washed through her. It still surprised her, sometimes, that she had friends, people who would help her and she’d help in return. Eight years on the Nameless World and she still felt a stranger at times, as if Emily the Necromancer’s Bane was someone else, someone who just happened to share a name with her. It was … she shook her head, tiredly. It had been eight years. She really should be more used to it by now.”

Jade had a different question. “How long do we have?”

“Caleb went back to Heart’s Eye, to make some preparations there,” Emily said. “I have to pass through Celeste and then meet up with him there. I’d say two or three days before we depart and then … I don’t know. It could happen at any time, or not at all.”

“I’ll get the men ready, then rotate small units in and out of the line,” Jade told her. “A month or two shouldn’t be a problem, but after that … it could prove challenging. You can’t keep men on alert forever.”

“I know.” Emily nodded. “I’ll let you know what’s happening, as I go along. Hopefully …”

She rubbed her forehead. They were taking a leap into the unknown. The Hierarchy could be anywhere, or … it wasn’t a kingdom, with a firm geographic location, but a group that could pull up sticks and move at short notice. For all she knew, it was based in Cockatrice or near Void’s Tower or even under the White City. It was absurd and yet … the Hierarchy was good at hiding or it would have been rooted out and destroyed long ago. They had to track it down and yet … she had no idea where to start looking, beyond the Kuching taunt. She still didn’t know if that was a real hint to lure her into a trap or a lie told to mislead her. It could be either. Or both.

“We’ll see how it goes,” she said, finally.

“Good.” Alassa smiled. “Now that’s settled, we can talk about something else. The wedding, perhaps.”

Emily groaned. “Is it too late to elope?”

“Probably,” Imaiqah said. “Too many noses will be put out of joint.”

“Drat.” Emily met her eyes. “Did you find anyone …?”

“No.” Imaiqah looked downcast. “You know how hard it is to find someone who wants you for you.”

Emily nodded in grim understanding. Imaiqah was a Queen’s Companion. She had a range of duties that kept her close to the monarch, allowing her to influence decisions … not, Emily suspected, that Imaiqah could change Alassa’s mind if she didn’t want it to change. There were hundreds upon hundreds of young men who’d see Imaiqah in terms of what she could do for them, or had parents who’d urge them to court her to advance their families … she felt a twinge of bitter sympathy. It wasn’t an easy place to be.

“Yes,” she said, finally. “I know.”

 

Chapter Three

“Auntie! Auntie!”

Emily had to smile as Princess Emily – Millie to her family and their close friends – toddled towards her, nearly tripping twice before falling into Emily’s arms. The governess sucked in her breath as Emily picked up the child, but wisely didn’t say anything as Emily gave the little girl a hug. Millie’s blonde hair shone under the light, her blue dress drawing out her pale skin and making her look cute … Emily realised, with an odd little frission, that the dress was very much like her own. A deliberate choice, or … she shrugged. Marlena, the Queen Mother, had given Emily that dress, as well as a few hundred others. Perhaps it was her favourite design.

And it is customary to dress kids as miniature adults, she recalled, as she held Millie close. She’s far from the first to wear such clothes.

“Auntie,” Millie said. One hand played with Emily’s hair. “Auntie!”

Alassa stepped into the room. “I think she remembers you.”

Emily nodded, feeling touched. Millie had gone through a prolonged period of stranger danger, objecting strongly to being held by anyone other than her parents or her governess, before returning to being the smiley child she was. Being accepted by a little girl shouldn’t have meant much, but … it did. She held the young girl close for a long moment, then passed Millie to her mother. Alassa took Millie and held her gently. It was rare for a royal mother to show so much affection, but … there was no way Alassa would leave her alone any longer than strictly necessary. It made Emily wonder if the governess felt slighted in some way. She was supposed to be in charge of the child.

Although Alassa wouldn’t tolerate any mistreatment, she mused. Alassa had been spoilt rotten as a child – and she’d been one of the lucky ones. Emily had heard horror stories about governors who beat, isolated, or otherwise punished their charges. She knew what she’d do to any governess who did that to her child, or any child, and Alassa would do worse. The woman’s authority is very limited.

“She’s such a cute child,” Alassa said. “She takes after her father.”

“She takes more after you,” Emily said. Millie’s hair was actually a shade lighter than her mother’s, odd when her father had darker hair. “But you’re right. She is cute.”

She smiled, feeling oddly maternal. “Make sure she has the very best of education,” she added. “She’s going to need it.”

“Yes,” Alassa said, dryly. “I intend to.”

They shared a look. Princess Millie was the firstborn child – and, after the law had been changed to ensure that the firstborn inherited the throne even if she happened to be a young woman, the heir. It wasn’t going to be easy under any circumstances, but harder for Millie because the kingdom wasn’t used to the idea of a female monarch, particularly one who took the throne ahead of her younger brother. Emily could just imagine the younger kid being pushed into doing something stupid, if he felt cheated out of an inheritance he should have gained simply by being male, and … it could end very badly. She hoped Alassa had the sense to try to keep sibling rivalry from turning lethal, but …

“If you have a son, I want to discuss a betrothal,” Alassa said, seriously. “It may be the only way to keep the pressure off, as Millie grows older.”

Emily was torn between laughter and anger. “I’m not pregnant.”

“I know,” Alassa said. “But if you happen to have a son …”

“I don’t know if I’ll have children yet,” Emily said. She thought she was a healthy young woman, she thought she wouldn’t have problems getting pregnant when the time came, but it was hard to be sure. Some couples never did, no matter how hard they tried. She had a suspicion it owed much to stress, the desperation to have a baby making it harder for them to actually have one. “And if I did … I wouldn’t want to bind their future.”

“Betrothals get made and broken all the time,” Alassa pointed out. “And you wouldn’t make a fuss if the betrothal was cancelled when they reached legal age.”

Emily hesitated. She understood the problem, all too well. Alassa was being bombarded with requests for Millie’s hand in marriage, no matter that Millie was barely two years old and any perspective betrothed little more than three or four years older than her. Even having a betrothal wouldn’t stop the storm, as long as the challengers were higher-ranked than Millie’s betrothed. If they did agree to a betrothal, it would shut everyone else up as long as the betrothal lasted. Emily was a baroness, as high as one could go without being a member of the royal family. The implications would stop everyone else plotting for years.

“I don’t have a child,” she said. “And there’s no guarantee I ever will.”

“I know.” Alassa looked pained. “But …”

She shrugged, expressively. “Would you consider it? If you do …”

“If I do, then yes,” Emily said. “But it has to be under the clear understanding that my son – if I have a son – is free to break the betrothal when he comes of age.”

“Of course,” Alassa said. She held her daughter gently. “And the same for Millie, of course.”

Emily nodded. A betrothal wasn’t a silly little thing, a mock-wedding between children that had no legal validity, but a serious contract between both families. Alassa could easily land her daughter in hot water through making a contract with the wrong person, forcing her to either accept the match – regardless of how she felt – or risk war. Again. She could see the logic, understand where her friend was coming from. But she didn’t like it. She hoped she never would.

“You do realise it might be a while,” Emily said. One rule of betrothals was that the couple couldn’t be that far apart in age, unlike a wedding between two adults. “What happens if my son is eight years younger than Millie?”

“If that happens, we won’t go ahead with it,” Alassa said. “But …”

“I know.” Emily took Millie back for a long moment, feeling her heart melt as she returned the child to her mother. “I do understand. But there’s no guarantee of anything.”

The governess said nothing as Alassa passed Millie back to her. Emily hoped to hell she was discreet. The governess was right next to the royal family, close enough to hear everything and report it to unseen masters. Alassa would murder the woman in cold blood if she betrayed one family secret, let alone all of them, but the damage would be done. It would be too late to put the demon back in the bottle, once word got out.

“We were hoping you’d teach her magic, once she comes into her power,” Alassa said. “I don’t know if she’ll be going to school.”

“She probably should,” Emily said. “You know it was good for you.”

Alassa smiled as she led the way through a maze of semi-hidden corridors. Emily doubted most of the passageways were true secrets, not in any sense of the word, but they were restricted to the royal family and their closest allies … even they, Emily knew, weren’t supposed to enter without permission. She wasn’t sure she could … she shook her head, dismissing the thought. The tunnels below the castle had never been completely explored, raising the spectre of someone using them to get inside and cause havoc. Or worse.

“It had its moments.” Alassa opened a hidden door and stepped into her private study. “I wouldn’t have met Jade if I hadn’t attended Whitehall. Or you and Imaiqah or … anyone.”

Emily looked around with interest. The private study – the really private study, open only to Alassa’s closest friends – looked more like a comfortable living room than a queen’s workspace. Alassa sat on a comfortable armchair rather than a throne, an armchair that wasn't even bigger than the rest of the chairs … Emily’s lips quirked at just how horrified some senior aristos would be if they saw the place. How could they tell where they stood in the pecking order if everyone had the exact same chair? The hell of it was that they had a point. Little things like seat selection were important in court, even if everyone else thought they were being silly. It was just …

“She needs a chance to grow into her own person,” Emily said, quietly. “Your father made that mistake and … look how it turned out.”

Alassa nodded, curtly. “It worked out in the end, but …”

Emily heard the doubt in her voice and winced inwardly. Alassa had wanted the throne, had considered it rightfully hers, but … she hadn’t realised, perhaps, that the throne was also a gilded cage. She was trapped behind her desk, reading papers and signing orders, or sitting on the throne and passing judgement when cases were brought before her; she could never take a proper holiday, never relax for fear someone might try to take the throne from her. And Millie would be condemned to the same fate, without a chance to make something of herself. There was no getting around it.

Be careful what you wish for, Emily told herself. You might get it.

“We’ll see how things go,” Alassa said. “I don’t want to foster her, let alone send her to school.”

“You may not have a choice,” Emily pointed out. “She’ll need to learn what it’s like to live and work in a place that cares nothing for your title.”

“I’d ask you to foster her, except you’re too nice.” Alassa smiled, but there was no humour in her tone. “She’ll need someone strict.”

“Whitehall will take care of that,” Emily pointed out. “She’ll be fine.”

“I hope so,” Alassa said. “I wish I could come with you.”

Emily nodded. “I wish so too.”

She knew it wouldn’t happen, no matter what she might say. Alassa couldn’t afford to leave the castle, let alone the kingdom. Even a Royal Progression involved months of preparation … Emily felt a twinge of pity for Alassa and her daughter. There was no easy way out for either of them. Alassa knew her duty and she’d embraced it, before she’d quite realised the cost. And now it was too late.

“There’s always trouble along the borders,” Alassa said. Her eyes lingered on the map hanging on the wall. “I should visit in person, see with my own eyes what’s really going on …”

“Be careful,” Emily advised. The border lords enjoyed more independence than most, because they could swap kingdoms in a heartbeat … if they thought they could get away with it. She wasn’t sure what would happen if some of the smaller aristos tried, but win or lose it would be staggeringly expensive. “Don’t put yourself in real danger.”

Alassa snorted. “You’re about the only regent who’d say that to me.”

“And I don’t want you gone,” Emily said. “Really.”

“Yeah.” Alassa sighed. “I guess that makes you unique amongst the senior councillors.”

Emily sighed, inwardly. Alassa had asked her to be Millie’s godmother and Emily had accepted before realising the implications. It wasn’t just an obligation to take care of the toddler if her parents died, but an obligation to take care of the kingdom itself. A high-ranking aristocrat would have to serve as regent – Imaiqah was far more qualified, but lacked the power base to make her claim stick – and Emily was the best of a set of bad choices. She didn’t want the kingdom for herself. Or even to enhance her power base before Millie took the throne.

“I won’t let you down, but try not to die,” Emily said. “And don’t take Jade with you.”

Alassa grinned. “You know he won’t let me go alone.”

“You know what I meant,” Emily said. Jade outliving his wife would solve a great many problems. As the new queen’s father, his claim to the regency would be unquestionable and his magic would make him difficult to remove. “Take care of yourself.”

“You too, Emily,” Alassa said. “You’re sure you don’t want to stay longer?”

“I wish I could,” Emily said, although it wasn’t wholly true. She loved her friends and she wanted to spend more time with them, but there were just too many servants in the castle for her to feel comfortable. They saw everything and … she’d always considered them creepy, no matter how loyal they were. If she had children, they were not going to grow up with servants honouring their every whim. It was a minor miracle that most aristocratic children were as well-adjusted as they were, and most were spoilt brats. “The Hierarchy is breathing down my neck.”

Alassa stood and gave her a hug. “Take care of yourself too,” she said. “And don’t hesitate to call if you need help.”

Emily nodded, stiffly. “I’ll see you again,” she said. “I promise.”

“That’s good.” Alassa stuck out her tongue. “We have wedding dresses to design.”

“Oh.” Emily groaned. “Does it ever end?”

“You helped organise my wedding,” Alassa said. “What do you think?”

Emily felt her heart sink. Alassa’s wedding had been fiendishly complex – and that had been before the shooting had started. Her wedding … she dreaded the thought of anything more complex than a simple ceremony. And to think it was too late to elope.

“Surely I can insist on not outshining you,” she said, finally. “Surely …”

“Too late.” Alassa winked. “If we were getting married in the same year, then yes. But Jade and I were married three years ago. Too late.”

She winked, again. “Good luck.”

Emily nodded and turned away, feeling a twinge of unease as she stepped through the two lines of wards and out into the open corridors. A handful of maids hurried out of sight the moment they saw her coming, two junior noblewomen who had been sent to serve as handmaidens to the queen looked as if they wanted to ask her a few questions, but thought better of it before the words slipped out of their mouth. Emily couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for them. Their families had instructed them to get close to their monarch, in hopes of winning influence as well as suitable husbands, but their chances of getting close enough for either were very low. Alassa knew better than to trust them completely and she already had friends and allies the same age as herself. And yet, the poor girls couldn’t go back to their families without risking disgrace.

She kept walking, pretending not to see the maid who hadn’t quite managed to hide herself and was dangerously exposed. The poor woman was trembling … Emily sighed inwardly as she walked down the stairs, through the maze of halls and corridors, and out into the courtyard. It was astonishing just how much was concealed within the castle walls, without the use of magic to make the building bigger on the inside. The guards saluted as she made her way through the gatehouse and onto the Royal Mile, passing a handful of petitioners lining up to face their monarch. They barely noticed her. Emily couldn’t help being oddly amused. They’d clearly been studying the wrong portraits.

The thought mocked her as she passed a row of shops and stalls, the latter offering goods from Cockatrice as well as Heart’s Ease. A small steam locomotive puffed around in a circle; a much larger steam tractor rested beside it, a handful of kids clambering into the wagon for a ride around the block. The designers had clearly ironed out most of the bugs, Emily noted, as the tractor puffed into life. It was just a matter of time before someone mounted a newfangled artillery piece on the vehicle and the very first tank was born. So far, no one had managed to make an internal combustion engine work, which limited the available horsepower, but that would change too. The airship overhead was a reminder of just what was coming down the line …

Everything has changed, she mused, as she reached the edge of the city. And everything will change again.

She took a long moment to look around, noting how much cleaner and happier the city seemed to be. The streets were swept clean of horse manure and excrement – there was an explicit ban on throwing human waste onto the streets now – and the population had benefited. Alassa’s grand urban renewal program was already showing results, the public bathhouses and medical centres ensuring the population was healthier than ever before. The ever-growing network of factories outside the city would provide jobs for everyone, forcing the nobles to treat their workers better or lose them. Everything had changed, and would change again, no matter who wanted to put the clock back. Even if she died tomorrow, she would have the satisfaction of knowing she’d made the world a better place.

Her eyes lingered on a handful of children heading to school – education was another priority now – before she sighed and started to put the teleport spell together. There was no longer any time to delay, not when she had no idea just how much time she had left. The Hierarchy wasn’t a conventional threat, but something unlike anything she’d ever faced. And no matter how much she worked the problem, she couldn’t imagine any use for so much gathered power. How could they even control it? There was just no way to do it unless you had a nexus point and if you had a nexus point you didn’t need to gather such power. It made no sense. And yet, she knew the enemy had something in mind. Just because she couldn’t think of a way to do it didn’t mean the Hierarchy couldn’t.

Shaking her head, she triggered the spell.

 

Chapter Four

Celeste had claimed, more than once, to be the most beautiful city in the world. Emily had no idea if it was objectively true, but she had to admit the city had genuinely been striking before the regime had seized power and turned it into a nightmare. Now … she stood on the hillside and stared down at Celeste, noting just how many buildings had collapsed into rubble and how many more looked tawdry, as if the magic were gone. It hadn’t been that long since she’d gotten in and out, giving the regime a bloody nose in the process, but … she shook her head. A spark had clearly left the city, along with many of the former slaves. It would be years before it was rebuilt.

She took a breath and forced herself to start walking down the road to the gatehouse. It lay open, the guards she’d seen the last time she’d entered the city gone … gone where? Her skin prickled as she kept moving, empty chambers mocking her as she walked though the complex and out onto the streets. Some shops were still open, their owners trying to sell their wares, but others were closed and shuttered … a handful had even been burnt to the ground. Her lips twisted as she saw a couple of magicians trying to repair the damage to their shop, cleaning up the mess left behind by the fighting. Normally, they would have left such work to the mundanes. Now, there was no one else to do the work.

A shiver ran down her spine as she walked past the school – currently closed, thankfully – and neared the Citadel. It was a pile of rubble now, excavation teams trying to dig up what little they could for transport to Heart’s Eye. A handful of combat sorcerers stood guard, keeping the locals from getting any closer to the once-proud building. Emily suspected it was just a matter of time before the locals got organised and drove them out, but right now everyone was still too shocked to do more than sit on their hands. And try to find a way to cope without the mundane workers. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Sienna stood with her back to Emily, her hands clasped behind her back as she watched a piece of magitech being lifted out of the rubble. Emily hesitated, all too aware that Sienna had reason to be annoyed with her … or worse. Caleb’s mother hadn’t been consulted about his proposal, as far as Emily knew … she wasn’t even sure she knew her son intended to propose. She knew they were back together, but beyond that … Emily forced herself to walk forward, making enough noise to tell Sienna she was coming. Combat sorcerers didn’t enjoy being surprised. They tended to lash out with overwhelming power.

“Emily,” Sienna said, as she turned. “It’s been a while.”

“A couple of days,” Emily said. Sienna’s tone was artfully neutral. “Is there somewhere we can talk?”

“We set up shop over there,” Sienna said. She led the way towards an office block that had been battered by the fighting, but left largely intact. “Do you, perchance, have something to tell me?”

Emily flushed, saying nothing as Sienna led her into a waiting room. It looked to have been looted, half the chairs missing and several portraits gone from the walls, leaving only bare space where they should be. A portrait of Resolute was still there, covered in cuts. Emily guessed it had been used for target practice. There was certainly no other use for it. Resolute was powerless now, doomed to spend the rest of his life as a mundane. She hoped he choked on it. He wasn’t mad, unlike so many others she’d faced, or even someone bent on enthroning himself at the expense of everyone else. He was a fascist in every sense of the word.

“Well?” Sienna sank into a damaged chair. “Do you?”

“Caleb asked me to marry him,” Emily told her. “And I said yes.”

“I’m glad to hear it,” Sienna said. Emily couldn’t tell if she genuinely meant it. “I hope the two of you have a long and happy life together.”

Emily leaned forward, deciding to rip the band-aid off. “Do you have a problem with it? With me?”

“I think you’ll be good for each other, now you have both grown up a little,” Sienna said, after a moment. “But please excuse me for worrying about my children.”

She gave an odd little smile. “I suppose I should be glad I have so few obligations to my extended family. Or to Beneficence.”

Emily allowed herself a moment of relief. Caleb’s parents were important, but they weren’t aristocrats. They had few obligations that would make the wedding difficult, or cause shifts in the balance of political power … probably. Emily had a nasty feeling Caleb’s grandparents, the ones who had practically disowned Sienna for marrying a mundane, would try to get close to their daughter once again, in hopes of making use of the family connection. She hoped Sienna would have the sense to ignore them. She was certainly strong enough to tell them to go to hell.

“Yes,” Emily said, finally. “And … I won’t let him down.”

“I certainly hope not, although marriage is very different from being in a relationship,” Sienna said. “My husband and I have had our ups and downs. We had to learn to communicate, to trust each other, to listen to each other … men have it worse in that respect, Emily, because it is so hard for them to unburden themselves for fear of being called weak. You might speak the same language, but … at times, you don’t. You think you said something and he thinks you said something else. And then there’s the … martial duties.”

Emily felt her cheeks turn red. “I know about the birds and the bees.”

“Oh good,” Sienna said. A flicker crossed her face, a hint she was teasing her future daughter-in-law. “You’ll be surprised how many girls don’t.”

“I wouldn’t be,” Emily said. Alassa hadn’t known much … she wasn’t sure about Imaiqah. Hell, she hadn’t known much and she’d come from a world where such things were discussed far more openly. “That’s something that needs to change, isn’t it?”

“Something else for you to worry about,” Sienna teased. She leaned forward. “You’re both old enough to make up your minds without my consent, so … just learn to treat each other with respect and you should be fine. Learn to listen, learn to be patient, learn how to say yes and how to say no … and don’t mess around with his emotions. Don’t let him do it to you either. Being an adult means being adult, not … not a child in an adult’s body.”

“We’ll do our best,” Emily said. “Together.”

Sienna studied her for a long moment, eyes lingering on Emily’s face. Emily tried not to show her nerves. Sienna was a formidable woman and the thought of her turning into a monster-in-law was terrifying, even though she had enough common sense to refrain from picking a fight that could only end badly for everyone involved. Probably. Motherhood had changed Alassa, for better or worse, and Sienna had been a mother for over two decades. Who knew how she’d react when it became clear they really were going to get married? It might not be quite clear to her yet.

Emily cocked her head. “Did he ask you for your blessing?”

“Not … no,” Sienna said. “He’s not a child any longer. He can do these things himself.”

She shrugged. “It is common courtesy to ask for a blessing from your parents, but hardly a legal requirement.”

Emily nodded, relieved.

“I take it you’re not here to tell me the news.” Sienna straightened. “What did you really come for?”

“I need to know how much you’ve pulled out of the wreckage,” Emily said, silently relieved that Sienna had so little patience for polite nothings. “Did you find anything from the portal?”

“No.” Sienna shook her head. “Most of the lower levels have collapsed completely. What little we have managed to save comes from the upper levels, and much was hammered when the entire building collapsed into rubble. I’ve sent what we’ve been able to recover to Heart’s Eye – Adam can take a look at it, if he’s feeling better – and hopefully we’ll learn something.”

Her eyes narrowed. “But where the portal led? We don’t know. There’s too much raw magic in the air for us to find any residue. It could be anywhere.”

“I know.” Emily wondered if she’d been foolish to come here. “I assume you got Katherine and Lucy out of the city?”

“Yes.” Sienna shot her an approving look. “They’re at Heart’s Eye.”

She paused. “You do realise you might be making a rod for your own back?”

“The thought has crossed my mind,” Emily confirmed. Katherine was Resolute’s daughter, a young woman who had truly loved her monster of a father. Emily knew enough about history to know there were few true monsters – Hitler had been kind to his secretaries, even though he’d been … well, Hitler – and she couldn’t blame Katherine for wanting to avenge her father. “But she doesn’t deserve to be punished for the crime of being his daughter.”

“I hope it works out for you,” Sienna said. “But I fear the worst.”

“She has Lucy,” Emily said. “And hopefully …”

She sighed. Her father had vanished from her life so quickly she knew practically nothing about him. Her stepfather had been so much of a rectum she was glad there was little prospect of ever having to see him again. Void had been far more of a father figure than either of them and yet … her lips twisted, recalling just how hard it had been to stand against him. Alassa had had the same problem with her father. No, she couldn’t fault Katherine for loving her father. Or mourning his death.

Sienna met her eyes. “Don’t let her brood, if you can help it,” she said. “It’ll end badly.”

“I can try.” Emily suspected she was the last person Katherine wanted to see right now. “And if there’s nothing else here …”

“I had a visitor yesterday,” Sienna said. “Lilith. She came all the way from Heart’s Eye.”

Emily raised her eyebrows. “She came back here?”

“She was asking questions about sharing life with a mundane,” Sienna said. “It was a tricky conversation.”

“I imagine it would be,” Emily said. She wasn’t sure if they should be having the conversation at all. “What did you tell her?”

Sienna looked pained. “If you happen to be stronger than your partner, there is always the temptation to use your strength to put them in their place,” she said. “Beat them up, turn them into toads … it never ends well, no matter what you do. The relationship is ruined if you cross that line, destroyed for good. I told her that and … I think she understood.”

Emily shuddered. “And …?”

“And you need to beware of that too,” Sienna added. “Sure, you and Caleb are both magicians, but you wield power on a far greater scale. You might lose your temper and do real harm – or worse. It could end very badly.”

“I wouldn’t,” Emily said.

“So say they all,” Sienna said. “Beating your wife is perfectly legal in most parts of the world.”

“Not in Cockatrice,” Emily said, flatly. She’d written the laws herself, ensuring that both marital rape and domestic abuse were considered crimes. “Or in Heart’s Eye.”

“I’d be surprised if you stopped it completely,” Sienna said. “Too many girls grow up thinking their husbands have the right to beat them. Or fearing the consequences if they try to leave.”

Her eyes met Emily’s. “Don’t do that to him,” she added. “Really.”

“I won’t,” Emily said. She stared down at her hands, then looked up. “I asked Alassa – ah, Queen Alassa – to lend me some troops. They’ll be assembling in Zangaria shortly and will be teleported to the target, when we locate it. Would you … would you go with them?”

Sienna frowned. “And what will you be doing?”

“Searching for the target,” Emily said, flatly. “If we locate the Hierarchy, we need to bring in the troops – and fast. We’ll have one end of a teleport gem with us … the other will be with the troops. And when we need them, we can bring them in fast.”

“Assuming the Hierarchy hasn’t worked out what you can do,” Sienna pointed out. “It isn’t the first time someone has used portals to move troops from place to place. You’ve done it yourself.”

“Yes, but not teleporting a small army into a hot zone,” Emily countered. “They might not be ready for it.”

Sienna looked doubtful. Emily could understand her concerns. Teleport gems were her invention, true, but they were hardly new. She’d devised the first gem over a year ago. There was no way to be sure the Hierarchy hadn’t duplicated the spellware, or come up with their own way to power a teleport that didn’t rely on a magician’s inherent power reserves. Or … that they hadn’t found a way to block teleports outside regular protective wards. If they had, the army could find itself being teleported to its death.

“And you can’t send the army with you,” Sienna mused. “It would be a diplomatic nightmare.”

“There’d be no way to keep it secret, too,” Emily agreed. A handful of explorers might not be noticed, regardless of where they were going. She had passed through hostile kingdoms without attracting attention before and she could do it again. An entire army would be a very different story. “Better to rely on stealth until we finally locate our target.”

She scowled as she contemplated the map. They needed to find a way to force the Hierarchy to react to them, rather than being forced to wait for the Hierarchy to act, but how? There were no obvious targets, no kingdoms to invade nor castles to storm … she understood, suddenly, why the United States had invaded Iraq before she’d been yanked out of her old world and into the new. They’d had to do something in hopes of reshaping the battlefield in their favour and invading Iraq might have been the best of a bad set of choices. Maybe not the best idea anyone ever had, but … she wondered how it had all worked out. She’d probably never know.

“I’ll be there,” Sienna said. “Where are you going now?”

“Back to Heart’s Eye,” Emily said. She stood, brushing down her dress. “Have there been any problems here?”

“Not openly, but they are starting to get restive,” Sienna said. “They may have elected a new council by now, and that council is going to start pushing us out. Fighting will even save them from having to fix the problems caused by the sudden loss of their slaves … they’re not going to be able to recruit more in a hurry. I’d be surprised if anyone chose to sign up after … after everything that happened. How much pay could they offer to make up for the risk?”

“They’ll just have to learn to get along without them,” Emily said. The servant problem in spades. The aristos had to outbid far more competitive employers or treat their servants with respect … or learn to cook and clean for themselves. The regime had once promised every magician a family of mundane servants, slaves in all but name. She wondered how the magical families would cope without them. People who had no trouble brewing potions would object, strongly, to having to cook their own food. “Who would want to come here?”

“No one.” Sienna grinned, although there was little humour in it. “You take care of my son, do you hear me? I don’t want to lose another.”

Emily felt her heart twist painfully. Casper – Caleb’s older brother – had died in front of her. It hadn’t been Emily’s fault, except in a sense it had. She’d been the one to suggest sneaking behind enemy lines to get to the necromancer, she’d been the one who’d underestimated their target and nearly been killed herself … Casper had been an ass, she admitted privately, but he hadn’t deserved to die. Not like that. She wondered if Sienna blamed her for Casper’s death. It would have been hard to blame her.

“I will,” she promised. “I’ll see you shortly.”

She felt cold, despite the warm summer air, as she stepped out of the building and looked at the remains of the Citadel. The poisoned magic hung in the air, a nerve-jangling reminder the regime had been messing with forces it couldn’t control … and that it had been the pawn, in the end, of a far darker opponent. She shivered helplessly, feeling something unpleasant brushing against her skin. Just being so close to the nightmare made her feel dirty, almost defiled. She had no idea how Sienna coped, or the other sorcerers. Couldn’t they feel it too?

They’re not here any longer, Emily told herself, firmly. Boswell had said as much, in the final moments before the portal closed. The man was hardly trustworthy, but the operation had been exposed and the bad guys would see no reason to stick around. There’s no point in coming back.

She sighed, then started to walk back out of the city. She’d get clear of the magic and then teleport back to Heart’s Eye for a shower. And then … she was sure Caleb would have some good ideas involving a bed. And after that …

We’re running out of time, Emily thought, grimly. She’d hoped to swing past Whitehall and consult with the tutors – and Frieda, whom she hadn’t seen for far too long – but she had a feeling it wasn’t possible. Just how much time do we have left?