The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22), Christopher Nuttall [books to read romance TXT] 📗

they didn’t... she remembered what Councilor Triune had done to the supposed poisoner and shuddered. The assassin was in a cell, hopelessly vulnerable. Someone might kill her to cover their tracks. She had to see the girl before it was too late. If she hadn’t pulled the trigger of her own free will...

“Be careful,” Lady Barb said. “Don’t let anyone push you too far.”

“I’ll be fine,” Emily said. “I just have to know.”

She glanced down at herself. The skin beside her right breast looked oddly pale. Lady Barb had mended the damage, then regenerated the missing skin. Someone had cut off her clothes and dressed her in a gauzy nightgown. Her fingers refused to cooperate properly, but she managed to get out of the gown and into a proper dress. Lady Barb looked completely astonished, her eyes narrowing in concern. Emily didn’t get it, then winced inwardly as it dawned on her she’d probably given Aiden’s secret away. She wouldn’t normally have undressed in front of a man. It wasn’t as if she’d been dating Aiden.

Aiden caught her eye. “Are you sure...?”

“I’m fine,” Emily repeated. “Let’s go.”

She regretted it as she made her way down the stairs and onto the streets. Her arms and legs felt as if they were on the verge of shattering, leaving her on the ground. And yet, she forced herself to keep going. Her magic sparked around her, helping her to remain upright. She would have flown, if she could concentrate long enough to muster the spell. Aiden walked beside her, ready to grab her arm. It didn’t take a mind-reader to know Aiden was dreadfully worried.

I wasn’t targeted at random, Emily thought, as she made her way into the palace. A pair of guards spoke quickly to Aiden, then sent a messenger to the council chamber. That assassin was sent to kill me. She knew me by sight.

Her mind churned. Who could it be? She didn’t think there were many people in the city who’d recognize her on sight. She’d looked a little different the last time she’d visited, seven years ago. Someone who’d seen her in Dragon’s Den? Or someone who’d been primed by someone who did know her? Someone who...

“She’s being held in the lower cell block,” Aiden said. “Do you need help getting down the stairs?”

“Probably,” Emily admitted. She would be fine, if she had a nap and gave her body some time to recover. Lady Barb had done an excellent job, but it would still be hours before she recovered from the trauma. It was hard not to be frustrated, yet... she told herself not to be selfish. Over forty people had died in the blast alone. “I’m... I’m sorry.”

She forced herself to inch down the stairs, leaning on Aiden as they moved further and further underground. Aiden muttered quietly to herself. Emily thought she was cursing, until she realized Aiden was planning a broadsheet article. The cynic in her wondered if it would ever be published. The rebels would be delighted to blame everything on the royalists, even if they weren’t actually at fault. They’d be a great deal less eager to print a suggestion that the royalists were innocent.

“Take a moment to catch your breath,” Aiden advised, as they reached the bottom of the stairs. The guards looked at them, their eyes going wide with surprise. “We have time.”

“Thanks.” Emily took a long breath, drawing on her magic. She was going to pay for that soon - she’d have to get back to bed before the spell exhausted her - but it would keep her upright for the moment. “Which cell?”

Aiden nodded to the guard, who opened an unmarked door. The stench of blood - and fear - wafted out. Emily braced herself and stepped inside. The girl was bound to an iron chair, completely naked. Her skin was bruised and battered, burn marks clearly visible on her breasts and thighs. Emily felt sick - behind her, she heard Aiden curse - as the door closed behind them. She’d seen torture, but... her chest heaved and she retched helplessly. She would have thrown up, if she’d had anything in her stomach. It had been a long time since she’d eaten anything.

“She deserves it,” Aiden said. She sounded as though she was trying to convince herself. “She deserves it.”

The girl looked up, then cringed away as her eyes lit on Emily. Emily saw panic and fear and helpless resignation in the girl’s eyes, not the hatred she’d expected. She reached out gingerly with her senses, all too aware the assassin might be playing dead. It was hard to believe anyone would let themselves be brutalized, if they had the ability to fight back and escape, but she couldn’t afford to ignore the possibility. She was all too aware that magic could do all sorts of things, some of them beyond her imagination.

She frowned. A faint haze of magic surrounded the girl. It wasn’t hers... Emily cursed under her breath. The girl had been compelled, practically enslaved. It was a surprisingly brutal spell, but perhaps the caster hadn’t had time to be subtle. Bind the girl with magic, give her a gun, point her at the target and make it impossible for her to say anything afterwards. No wonder she’d been tortured so savagely. The interrogators had probably thought she was defying them intentionally.

“Listen,” she said, quietly. “What’s your name?”

The girl turned her head, but said nothing. She couldn’t talk. Emily reached forward and touched her forehead, trying to dismantle the compulsion spell. It had been put together in a tearing hurry, as she’d thought. The real assassin hadn’t had anywhere near enough time to hide his handiwork, or ensure the girl went to the block... Emily pushed out with her mind, looking for traps. Removing a compulsion spell wasn’t easy. The effects could linger for days or weeks afterwards.

“Emily,” Aiden said. “Be careful...”

The girl twitched, violently. Her hands pulled at her chains. Emily ignored her struggles as she took