“I’ll take the master bedroom,” Prince Hedrick said. “Your servant can make the bed.”
“Make it yourself,” Emily snapped. “She’s not here to serve you.”
She turned away while the prince was still spluttering for words. It was hard to believe he didn’t know how to make his own bed, although... she supposed it was possible he didn’t. He might never have been without servants. He’d been in the military, but he might have had a valet. God knew there’d been aristocratic soldiers during the war who’d insisted on bringing a small army of servants on campaign with them. They’d been loathed by the men they were supposed to lead.
“I’ll cast a handful of wards,” Lady Barb said, as she returned from the loft. “They’re not going to last very long, though. Not without a proper anchor.”
“Yeah.” Emily mulled over the mystery for a long moment, then put it aside. “Do you think they’ll let us bring in a proper wardstone?”
“No,” Lady Barb said, flatly. “They’ll be too concerned about what else we could do with it.”
Emily nodded. “I’ll put myself in the middle bedroom, and you can have the one next to me,” she said. “That should reduce the amount of space we need to cover.”
“Yes, My Lady,” Lady Barb said, dryly. “It will be done, My Lady. Was there anything else, My Lady?”
“Sorry.” Emily flushed. “I didn’t mean to push...”
“You are meant to be in charge,” Lady Barb said, mischievously. “Just remember... you won’t always be in charge.”
“I know,” Emily said. Her cheeks felt hot. “I’m sorry.”
“You’re still learning,” Lady Barb assured her. “Don’t give Hedrick any room to play games or you’ll regret it. If he goes out of the house without permission...”
Emily sighed. “Is he that stupid?”
“Probably.” Lady Barb shrugged. “He’s the second son. Right now, come to think of it, he’s second in line to the throne. He may not have realized that, not yet, but I guarantee you he will. And then he’ll start thinking about how he can make himself the king instead. He wouldn’t be the first brother to put a knife in his sibling’s back.”
“No,” Emily agreed. She found it hard to believe Dater would turn his back on his brother, but... they were brothers. She had no siblings, as far as she knew, but the idea of her friends suddenly turning on her was difficult to grasp. “What if... he tries to dicker with the rebels privately?”
“That could be a problem,” Lady Barb agreed. “And I’m sure someone, not too far away, will start thinking about the advantages of having an idiot on the throne.”
Emily rubbed her forehead. “Charming,” she said. “The disadvantages would probably outweigh the advantages.”
She started to turn away, then stopped. “Can you tighten the wards on Silent’s room, once she decides which one she wants?”
“Of course,” Lady Barb said. There was a glint of approval in her eyes. “Good thinking.”
Emily nodded as she headed down the corridor. Silent could have whatever room she liked. She didn’t have to sleep below stairs, let alone beside the dogs like a servant in a manor. She could sleep in the next room and Emily wouldn’t give a damn. Besides, it might be advantageous. Silent deserved her privacy, too. She certainly didn’t deserve a horny prince battering down the door and demanding sex.
Bastard, Emily thought. She wondered if she could make the wards a little nastier. There were spells for that, although most of them could only be cast on magicians. Bringing him here was a mistake.
She spoke briefly to Silent, then wandered into the councilor’s study and glanced around. The room looked as though someone had thrown a grenade into the chamber and waited for it to explode. The desk had been torn apart in a desperate search for hidden compartments, the walls battered and broken until the hidden safe had been discovered and torn out of the stone. Emily had no idea what, if anything, the looters had found, but it had been carried out of the house days ago. Judging by the wreckage, the looters hadn’t been the former servants. They’d probably known where everything was hidden, even if they hadn’t dared touch it.
Alassa used to complain her servants spied on her, she recalled. And she was right.
“Lady Emily?” Prince Hedrick stood at the top of the stairs. “Can we talk?”
Emily wanted to say no, but... she sighed inwardly as she walked up and followed him into his room. Lady Barb’s wards hummed around her as she closed the door and looked around. It might have been the master bedroom, once upon a time, but it was as barren as the rest of the house. The paintings had been torn down and thrown into the fireplace. Emily was mildly surprised they hadn’t accidentally set the house on fire. Someone had stripped the bed, removing the old bedding and piling newer sheets on top of the mattress. It looked as if the prince didn’t have the slightest idea how to make the bed.
“My father is dead,” Prince Hedrick said. He looked at her in sudden, desperate hope. “Unless it was an illusion...”
“I’m afraid not,” Emily said, wishing - suddenly - that she knew what to say. She disliked Hedrick intensely and yet... it was hard not to feel a little sympathy. Losing a parent was never easy, but losing one to such a brutal end had to be far worse. “That was your father’s head.”
Prince Hedrick clenched his fists. “They murdered him. They... they broke their oaths to their monarch and murdered him. They...”
His voice trailed off. Emily watched him warily, ready to hurl a spell or jump back if he lashed out. She’d met too many people who tried to bury their grief in violence. Hedrick had insisted she’d been behind the rebellion, indirectly if not directly... if he took it into his head to blame her for everything, she wouldn’t let him land a blow. She’d freeze him and teleport him back to his brother.
“I’m sorry,”
