“I doubt the rebels will be happy if I arrested him,” Emily mused. “Can they put him on trial?”
“I’m sure they will try,” Void said. “And that’s what scares his fellow monarchs so badly.”
Emily nodded as they resumed their walk. The idea of a monarch being judged by his fellows was one thing. They knew their peers wouldn’t judge them too harshly, at least as long as they didn’t embrace necromancy. But their people? She could see the arguments already. The monarch saw the overall picture, empowering him to make the hard choices that best suited the kingdom. The commoners, who didn’t see more than a tiny piece of the puzzle, couldn’t judge the king’s actions. And even if they could, the precedent would be disastrous. Every monarch in Europe had shuddered after Parliament had executed King Charles. They hadn’t cared that Charles had brought his fate on himself. They’d just feared their own people getting ideas...
And they did, Emily reminded herself. The French executed their own king a century or so later.
“We’ll have lunch,” Void said, “and then you can go. I wish I could give you my blessing...”
He paused as they stepped into the dining room. “If things go really badly, send me a note and I’ll call you home. No one will blame you for obeying your master, even if it leaves them in the lurch. And I don’t care what they think of me.”
Emily was touched. “Thank you,” she said. She knew it was kindly meant. “That means a lot to me.”
“You’re welcome,” Void said. “And don’t stick around once you know you’re doomed to fail.”
Chapter Nine
EMILY STUMBLED OUT OF THE TELEPORT field, sunlight burning down on her as she found her footing and opened her eyes. It was high summer in Dragon’s Den - the familiar stench of the town drifted towards her - and she could hear students laughing and cheering in the distance as they enjoyed their first week away from the school. She felt an odd little pang as she looked towards the town’s boundary, wondering if anyone would notice if she walked into the town and visited her friends. Frieda was still at Whitehall, beginning her final year as a student. It was tempting...
She frowned, looking towards the distant mountains. They’d always seemed slightly ominous, even though she’d roamed the foothills with Jade and Cat. She knew what lurked on the far side... no, what had lurked on the far side. The necromancers were gone. Now, Cat was carving out a kingdom for himself and hundreds - perhaps thousands - of people who wanted to build a new way of life. Frieda’s last letter had stated that dozens of caravans had driven past the school in the last few months, heading north. That would have been suicide only a few short months ago. And now, new trade routes were already opening. Emily had heard all kinds of stories about wonders and glories and entire lost cities within the formerly Blighted Lands. Who knew how many were true?
Silent coughed, nervously. Emily glanced at the maid, feeling a flicker of guilt. She was responsible for Silent and yet... she wasn’t comfortable being responsible for anyone. It was like having a child, yet Silent was a grown woman. She hadn’t been forthcoming about her age, or anything really, but there couldn’t be more than a year or two between them. The idea of her being effectively property was... Emily shook her head. Right now, she couldn’t do anything about it. Time was not on her side.
“This way,” she said, casting a lightening charm on the bags. She’d spent an hour packing everything she thought she’d need, although the tower was only a teleport away. “Let’s go.”
Silent hefted the bags without complaint and followed Emily as she walked towards the inn. It existed in a curious legal limbo, one of the local arrangements between Whitehall, Dragon’s Den and Alluvia that no one ever looked at too closely. The inn was neutral ground, not quite under anyone’s control. Emily suspected that would change once the rebels realized Prince Hedrick was staying at the inn. It would be easy enough to surround the building without doing anything that would attract attention from Whitehall. Gordian was hardly the type of person to stick his neck out. He’d probably ignore the issue until it went away.
She felt a flash of resentment as she stepped into the courtyard. Gordian and she had hardly been friends, but... she’d expected better of him. Why had he wanted her gone? Did he really think she posed a threat? Or had Master Lucknow rushed him into supporting his bid to have Emily arrested and tried, perhaps even executed? She was tempted to turn and march up to the school, to demand answers, but she knew it would be pointless. Gordian would hem and haw and tell her nothing, all the while measuring her back for the blade. And he’d bury it in her the moment she turned her back.
Never humiliate a small man, she reminded herself. You’ll make an enemy for life.
Up close, the inn smelt of far too many people in close proximity. The wards were stronger than she recalled, suggesting that someone had reinforced them in a hurry. Prince Hedrick wasn’t a skilled magician, unless he’d deliberately concealed much of his talent, but he probably had bodyguards with him who were. Alassa might have sent someone with him, just to ensure he stayed alive until Emily arrived. She frowned as they rounded the building and spotted the tents in the fields beyond. It looked like a refugee camp from hell.
Lady Barb stepped out of the shadows. “Emily,” she said. She was wearing charmed armor, ill-concealed under a cloak. “Welcome back.”
Emily stepped forward and embraced the older woman. “It’s good to be back,” she said. “I... it’s good to see you again.”
“And you,” Lady Barb said. She glanced at Silent. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering a coach. Put
