Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) (7 page)

For a moment, his lips were very close to hers. It was the easiest thing in the world to brush her lips against his, feeling a tingle running through her body as they kissed. She was suddenly very aware of her heartbeat pounding inside her chest. Her first kiss…

“I’m going to be apprenticing with a combat sorcerer,” Jade admitted. “But I
will
keep in touch.”

Emily felt a surge of conflicting emotions. Was he abandoning her? Or was he trying to see if they
did
have something that would last? She could beg him to stay…

“You’d better write to me every week,” she said. At least she’d mastered handwriting, even though it took hours to compose a simple letter. “And make sure you keep me informed.”

“You too,” Jade said. He smiled–and, for a moment, Emily felt as if everything was back to normal. Except it would never be normal again. “I hope you have a good time in Zangaria.”

“Me too,” Emily said. Between Alassa’s warnings of endless dances–and Void’s rather more practical warning–she was nervous about the trip. “And I will
not
forget to write.”

She kissed him again, then cancelled the privacy ward and headed to the door. The dance might have gone on until the wee small hours, but she needed rest. They had to be up early the following morning. Alassa’s escort would be arriving at ten bells to take her home.

At least Void warned me
, she thought, as she reached her bedroom.
But what happened between him and Lady Barb
?

E
MILY WAS AWOKEN BY A GROANING
sound as Aloha pulled herself out of bed.

“The sergeant is going to kill me,” she said, as she sat upright. “I drank too much last night.”

She glanced over at Emily. “I’m sorry about waking you,” Aloha added. “I just have to go wash before the march begins.”

Emily nodded at her retreating back. Sergeant Miles had announced that the remaining students in Martial Magic would enjoy one final route march before they went home for the holidays, but Emily was excused the march on the ground she was traveling to Zangaria. She wasn’t quite sure how to feel about it; she’d grown to love walking in the countryside, but route marches were never fun, even now that she was stronger and healthier than she’d ever been on Earth.

“I didn’t sleep very well anyway,” she said, as her roommate entered the washroom. “Don’t worry about it.”

She sat upright in bed and reached for her watch. It was nearly seven bells, almost time to get up anyway. Emily ran her hand through her brown hair, then swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Her body felt tired, but a strong mug of Kava would make her feel better. Besides, unlike the other students, she hadn’t been drinking alcohol. The others were likely to be nursing hangovers.

Jade had
kissed
her. The thought returned to her mind unbidden as she dug into her cabinet and found the traveling clothes Alassa’s mother had sent for her. Jade had kissed her…and she’d let him. She hadn’t even felt repulsed. It had been her first kiss and…did that mean that she was in love, or merely that she’d not wanted to humiliate him any further by pushing him away? But then, she hadn’t
wanted
to push him away…her thoughts spun round and round until she felt a little dizzy. What did she actually want from him?

And everyone probably saw you kissing him,
she told herself, angrily. The privacy ward might have made it impossible for someone to eavesdrop, but it wouldn’t have stopped them seeing the kiss. There had been couples on the dance floor who were going much further than simple kisses, yet…this was different. Emily attracted too much attention to hope that the school had missed the kiss. By now, no doubt there would be rumors–she blushed furiously at the thought–that Jade had spent the night in her bed, even though she hadn’t activated the special privacy ward that would have told Aloha to spend the night somewhere else.

Aloha emerged from the washroom looking a little better, but still hung-over. Emily reached into her chest, found one of the potions they’d been given for dealing with headaches and feminine problems and passed it to her friend, who took it gratefully.

“Thank you,” Aloha said. She opened the bottle and drank it quickly, grimacing at the taste. “And I hope you have a good journey. It can be murder.”

Emily tossed her a sharp look, then walked into the washroom herself. Unlike many medieval institutions, Whitehall insisted that everyone wash regularly, something that had surprised Emily when she’d first heard about it. Later, she’d realized that her new world didn’t have modern medicine, but it
did
know about germs and how they spread disease. A person who washed was healthier than a person who chose to remain dirty. Shaking her head, Emily allowed warm water to cascade over her, then dried herself with a simple spell. It was so much easier than using a towel–and besides, her hair dried instantly.

Stepping back out of the washroom, she discovered that Aloha had already gone, no doubt in hopes of a big breakfast before joining the rest of the Martial Magic class. Feeling an odd sense of relief–she liked Aloha, but she didn’t want to talk–Emily picked up her traveling outfit and began to pull it on. The garments felt rougher than the dresses, yet they still managed to look reasonably attractive, even on Emily. And they were charmed to protect their wearer against the weather.

Once she’d finished dressing, Emily stood in front of the mirror and studied herself, unable to avoid a smile. She looked rather like an Elizabethan gentleman, with a pair of dark trousers, a dark shirt and a belt wrapped around her lower chest. Normally, she’d gathered from Alassa, a traveler would be expected to wear a sword, but few sorcerers would ever carry one unless they were engaged in ritual magic. They knew far more powerful protections. She tested her wards to make sure they meshed well with the spells on the outfit, then headed for the door. They had been warned to eat a good breakfast.

Hardly anyone seemed to be stirring as she walked out of the dorms and down towards the dining hall. Whitehall almost felt deserted, the ebb and flow of magic that ran through the building seemingly diminished by the absence of its students. Emily felt a pang of sadness that puzzled her, until she realized that she was already homesick. Not homesick for Earth, where she’d been ignored at best, but for Whitehall–and she hadn’t even left. Part of her wanted to cancel the trip and stay at the school for the holidays, if that were permitted. It occurred to her, as she stopped outside the heavy stone door leading into the dining hall, that she knew almost nothing about her tutors outside the classroom. Did Professor Thande have a wife? Or did Mistress Irene have a husband? Or...

She pushed the door open and stepped into the dining hall. It was nearly empty, apart from a couple of students she vaguely recognized. Oddly, there was no sign of Aloha. Maybe the sergeant had decided to leave
very
early and Aloha hadn’t had time to grab more than a few combat rations before running down to the armory. It sounded cruel, but the sergeant had always pushed the limits.

The kitchen staff seemed to be bright and cheerful, smiling at Emily as soon as she leaned on the counter. They didn’t look to have spent the night partying; Emily wondered absently just what the domestic staff did when the students were back home. Maybe they threw parties for themselves…she couldn’t see the grandmaster objecting very strongly, even though she suspected that some of the aristocrats would have thrown a fit at the thought of commoners enjoying themselves. Besides, they worked in a school where the students had magic and bad senses of humor. They deserved a chance to relax after the students had gone home.

Emily took a bowl of porridge and a large mug of Kava and found herself a seat at one of the tables. Normally, they were segregated by age, but Emily had been something of an exception to that rule even before half the school had gone home. As a student in Martial Magic, which pulled in pupils from every age group, she’d been expected to join her teammates half the time, even if they were all older than her. At least they’d stopped treating her like a little girl, or someone who had pulled strings to get into the class–but then, she
had
beaten a necromancer. It was hard to argue that she was still unqualified after the demise of Shadye.

The porridge tasted bland, but it was probably the best thing for the students after drinking themselves senseless last night. Emily sipped the Kava carefully, wincing slightly at the taste, although
no one
actually drank the school’s Kava to enjoy themselves. It tasted rather like ultra-strong coffee, with enough caffeine to shock anyone awake. Emily had tasted better Kava at Dragon’s Den and wondered why Whitehall served such an awful blend, before deciding that the school would prefer to avoid caffeine dependency. She had never bothered to ask to confirm her theory.

She looked up as Alassa made her entrance. The royal princess looked perfect, as always, but Emily could tell that her friend hadn’t slept much better than herself. Alassa picked up a jug of Kava, without taking any food, and stumbled over to sit beside Emily, muttering something about not being hungry. She sounded more nervous than anything else, even though she should be used to taking part in royal processions. But then, one of the princes she was going to meet along the way might become her future husband and consort.

“Need to get dressed again,” Alassa muttered, as she slurped her Kava. “Can’t go out looking like this.”

Emily rolled her eyes. Her friend wore traveling clothes that were almost identical to Emily’s, apart from the single golden star on the front of her shirt. It didn’t even cling to her body, refusing to reveal too much of her curves, although Alassa’s golden locks shone against the dark material. Maybe Alassa was just suffering from excessive nerves…Emily gave her friend a concerned look, then waved to one of the staff. A moment later, a bowl of porridge was put in front of Alassa and she started to eat automatically.

“You look lovely,” Emily said.

“Liar,” Alassa said, without heat. “They’re going to be sending maids to help me dress. And they’re all going to be reporting on me.”

It took Emily a moment to realize that Alassa meant the monarchs who hoped to marry their younger sons to the princess. They would all want to ensure that Alassa was physically healthy–and they probably wouldn’t trust a medical report from her parents, if such information was ever released outside the Royal Family. There was no reason they couldn’t ask a healer to perform a medical check, except that would probably have been
intrusive
. Emily rolled her eyes at the thought, then finished her Kava.

“I should have insisted on bringing my own servants,” Alassa continued. She sounded almost dazed. “I could have used it as an excuse to keep the others out of my rooms.”

“I can help you dress,” Emily offered. But she knew almost nothing about how to help someone dress, even if the dresses
were
designed to allow Alassa to don them without needing outside help. It wasn’t as if she understood local cosmetics; hell, even
looking
at makeup and perfume risked running into a political and social minefield. “Or maybe we could hire someone…”

“Probably wouldn’t work,” Alassa said. She finished her porridge and looked down at her empty bowl, as if she hadn’t quite realized that she was eating. “They’d still insist on sending in their own people to
stare
at me.”

She shook her head. “Let me try and get ready on my own first,” she added. “I’ll give you a call if I need help.”

Emily nodded. It was funny just how little privacy Alassa had, despite having been born a royal princess. Everything from her monthly cycles to her conduct when dealing with her social inferiors would be carefully recorded by
someone
. And while her servants back home had been there to help her, Emily had no doubt that they reported directly to her parents–and all other interested parties. No doubt the preparations for a royal wedding included a careful inspection of her health and fertility. No wonder Alassa had turned into such a brat.

“I’ll be in the library,” Emily said, as she stood up. “And I’ll meet you in the entrance hall at ten bells, if you don’t call me earlier.”

“See if you can research privacy spells,” Alassa said weakly, with a ghost of a smile. “There won’t be any privacy in
any
of the castles.”

Emily scowled at the thought as she walked out of the dining hall. Whitehall was a place of education, yet there were secret passages that ran throughout the building, some of them allowing their occupants to peek into various classrooms and dorms. She’d never managed to convince the grandmaster to tell her why they’d been built, or, for that matter, why Shadye had known of their existence. Perhaps the students were meant to find them, or maybe the staff wanted a way to move around without being noticed. But then, given the building’s mutable interior, it should have been easy to construct private corridors for themselves.

The library was dark and cold, but a touch of Emily’s hand against the charmed doorknob allowed her entry. One advantage of working with the librarian was that she was allowed access at all times, although she had wondered if that would still hold true now that term was officially over for the summer. She stepped into the massive room and through the silencing wards that kept students from talking above a whisper, looking around to make sure that she was really alone. Rumor had it that the Lady Aylia slept in the library. Emily had certainly never seen her outside her domain.