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

Aiden followed, her expression an unreadable mask. Emily wondered what she was thinking. She’d helped arrest Fran, ensuring she was marched straight to the cells, chained up and brutally tortured... perhaps worse. There was no way to undo what she’d done, even though it had been a reasonable thing to do at the time. There was no way the guards could be punished, either. They’d all known Fran had pulled the trigger. They just hadn’t realized she hadn’t been in her right mind.

“The council has been arguing for hours,” Althorn said, as they reached the top of the stairs. He lowered her to the ground, holding her upright until she found her footing. “They’re arguing for the queen’s immediate execution.”

“She’s in a cell,” Aiden pointed out. “If she could cast those sort of spells, she wouldn’t have been taken prisoner so easily.”

“She was found guilty of using love potions and enchantments on the king,” Althorn countered. “You cast one of the guilty votes.”

“It’s not quite the same,” Aiden said, cocking an eyebrow at Emily. “Is it?”

Emily gathered herself. “I need to get back home and sleep,” she said. There were hundreds of unused rooms in the palace, but she wanted to be inside her wards. “Please, will you take care of Fran?”

“I can try,” Althorn said. He sounded reluctant. “The council already sentenced her to death.”

“Then tell the world the council sentencing someone to death is almost as good as actually executing them,” Emily said. She doubted that piece of insane troll logic would fly, but she was too tired to think straight. “Or that I killed her personally. I’m sure that will go down well.”

“I’ll do my best,” Althorn said. “But the people want blood.”

“Then find the person responsible for the enchantment,” Emily said. She remembered the bombing and shuddered. Terrorism was relatively new on the Nameless World, but she had a feeling it was about to become depressingly common. “And quickly, before he strikes again.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

“MY BROTHER WOULD NOT HAVE ORDERED YOUR death,” Prince Hedrick said. His lips twisted with disgust as he ate his breakfast. “He was besotted with you.”

Emily was inclined to agree, although for different reasons. Dater was smart enough to know that turning her into a martyr would rebound badly. He’d incur the wrath of much of the Allied Lands as well as the rebels and her friends. But it wasn’t impossible, she reminded herself, that one of his subordinates had ordered the assassination attempt. Dater wouldn’t be pleased - technically, he could be held accountable for his subordinates even if they weren’t under his direct control - but it wouldn’t matter. She’d be dead no matter who pulled the trigger.

She sat at the table and took her bark tea without comment. Her body still ached, but she felt better after a good night’s sleep and a long bath. Lady Barb had insisted she drink a pair of potions to speed up the rest of her recovery, pointing out she couldn’t afford to waste time getting better as the city continued to self-destruct. Emily hadn’t been able to argue, even though she knew there were wounded on the streets who needed them more. The next assassination attempt could come at any time.

“My Lady,” Silent said. “Aiden sent a messenger while you were asleep. The rebel council will address the people this afternoon, just after noon. He’s promised to escort you to the city square.”

Prince Hedrick snorted, rudely. “You shouldn’t be walking out with him.”

Emily blinked, too surprised to be insulted. “Why not?”

“People will talk,” Hedrick said. “He’s a handsome young man and a rebel.”

“Oh.” Emily had to smile, despite his tone. Aiden wasn’t a man. Emily supposed Aiden would be glad to know she’d fooled Hedrick, perhaps a little too well. She allowed her voice to harden. “I have a duty to maintain friendly relationships with the rebel leadership until I can convince them to meet your brother halfway.”

Hedrick grimaced. “You do realize your... friend... probably led you into a trap,” he said, his expression darkening. “How else could the bomb had been detonated so close to you?”

Emily considered it for a long moment, then dismissed it. Aiden wasn’t a fanatic, certainly not one who’d risk certain death to kill her target. It had been sheer luck she’d been behind Emily when the bomb detonated... and sheer luck, too, that Emily made a practice of protecting herself against physical assault. The bomb would have injured or killed the average sorcerer, if it had caught him by surprise. Aiden could hardly have counted on being shielded by Emily. And... Emily frowned. It would have been easy enough for Aiden to stick a charmed knife in her ribs, if she’d wanted. She’d certainly been close enough to Emily to do it.

And she could have killed me while I was vulnerable, she reminded herself. It would have been easy for Aiden to make the damage a little worse, then swear blind there’d been nothing she could do. And she could have steered me a little closer to the bomb...

She frowned, tossing the problem around and around in her head. The bomb had detonated alarmingly close to her, close enough to kill. It would have killed... had it been meant to kill? Or had it simply been a coincidence? If someone wanted to cause chaos, detonating bombs at random would be an easy way to do it. There were so many carts on the streets that searching them all for barrels of gunpowder would waste a great deal of time and probably do nothing more than add to the chaos.

“You see my point,” Hedrick said. “Aiden could have led you into a trap.”

“He could also have shot me himself,” Emily pointed out. “It wouldn’t have been that hard.”

The coincidence nagged at her as she finished her breakfast. If she’d been the target, the assassin had gotten very lucky. If she hadn’t been the target... it was a wild