Love's Labor's Won (Schooled in Magic Book 6) Read online

  Love’s Labor’s Won

  (Schooled in Magic VI)

  Christopher G. Nuttall

  Twilight Times Books

  Kingsport Tennessee

  Love’s Labor’s Won

  This is a work of fiction. All concepts, characters and events portrayed in this book are used fictitiously and any resemblance to real people or events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2015 Christopher G. Nuttall

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, except brief extracts for the purpose of review, without the permission of the publisher and copyright owner.

  Twilight Times Books

  P O Box 3340

  Kingsport TN 37664

  http://twilighttimesbooks.com/

  First Edition, March 2015

  Cover art by Brad Fraunfelter

  Published in the United States of America.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Five Things That Could Have Happened To Emily

  To my son, Eric Jalil Nuttall,

  who was born just after this book.

  Prologue

  To someone without magic, Ashworth House looked fragile. It perched on a hillside, a mixture of a dozen different styles from all across the Allied Lands, as if each generation of the family had added a whole new wing to the house. And yet, Melissa Ashworth knew, as she walked through the wards, that the house was far from fragile. The nexus point pulsing below the giant building ensured that no conventional attack could hope to breach the defenses.

  She felt the pull as soon as she passed through the last ward, an insistent tugging that compelled her to walk towards the center of the house. Gritting her teeth – she was eighteen, not a naughty little girl to be summoned – she resisted the pull as best as she could, dragging her feet as she walked into the house. A handful of servants bowed to her as she passed, then faded into the back of her awareness as the compulsion pulled harder. The Matriarch of House Ashworth was clearly impatient. By the time she reached the stone doors that barred the way into the central chambers, she was practically running – and steaming with humiliation.

  The doors opened as she approached, revealing a single spotless room, empty save for a set of paintings on the wall, a wooden table and a pair of chairs. One of them was empty, Melissa noted as she stepped inside; the other was occupied by her great-grandmother, the Matriarch of House Ashworth. The compulsion snapped out of existence as the door closed behind her, but she knelt anyway. There was a long pause and then her great-grandmother slowly rose to her feet.

  “You may rise,” she said.

  “Thank you, Lady Fulvia,” Melissa said. No one dared address the Matriarch by any other title, not even Grandmother. “I thank you for summoning me.”

  “You may be seated,” Lady Fulvia said. “I trust your exam results were satisfactory?”

  Melissa felt her cheeks burn as she sat down and looked up at her great-grandmother. Lady Fulvia was tall and inhumanly thin, with a face so pinched with disapproval that she looked as though she were permanently sucking on a lemon. It was a testament to her power that she was still alive – and that no one dared to mock her, even in private. Melissa would sooner have dealt with her grandfather than the aging harridan. But no one would say no if Lady Fulvia chose to make Melissa’s business hers.

  “I believe I passed,” she said, finally. “But we won’t have the full results for another week.”

  “I suppose not,” Lady Fulvia said. She sat down, her eyes never leaving Melissa’s face. “It was my fault for sending you to that school, even though it was quite unsuitable for one of our bloodline.”

  “You told me I could not share the school with the Ashfall Heir,” Melissa reminded her, daringly. “And so I went to Whitehall instead of Mountaintop.”

  “How true,” Lady Fulvia agreed. “But we still expect you to do your very best.”

  Her voice hardened. “And you have failed to make friends with Void’s daughter.”

  Melissa winced at the cold scorn in Lady Fulvia’s voice. No one had known Void had a daughter, right up until the moment she’d arrived at Whitehall. The Lone Power was so eccentric he hadn’t even taught his daughter basic magic, although she had learned very quickly. But, by the time Melissa had received orders to befriend the girl, it had been too late.

  “A girl who saved the school, twice,” Lady Fulvia said. “A girl who crippled Mountaintop.”

  “Yes, my lady,” Melissa said.

  “And you have failed to befriend her,” Lady Fulvia said. “That does not speak well of you.”

  Melissa cringed. Lady Fulvia never hit her grandchildren or great-grandchildren. She had other ways to discipline them. None of them were remotely pleasant.

  “But, no matter,” Lady Fulvia said. “There are other, more important issues to discuss. You are a young woman now, are you not? The measurement of blood-to-blood proves you are healthy and capable of bearing children?”

  “Yes,” Melissa said, embarrassed.

  “Good,” Lady Fulvia said. She gave Melissa a tight smile. “Because you’re going to get married. The Matriarchy of House Ashworth will fall to you, one day, and it is important that you have both the right husband and the right father for your children. I have selected for you a suitable man.”

  Melissa felt as though she had been punched in the gut. She’d known her marriage would be arranged, but she’d always thought – her grandfather had promised her – that she would have the final say in who she married. To hear Lady Fulvia say, so casually, that her husband had already been selected...she stared, unable to conceal her horror. There was no point in trying to argue, or fight. She knew the Matriarch all too well. Lady Fulvia would simply override whatever she said and the wedding would go ahead anyway.

  “My lady,” she managed finally. “Who have you selected for me?”

  “Gaius, of House Arlene,” Lady Fulvia said. “He recently graduated from Mountaintop with impeccable marks and strong magic.”

  It took Melissa a moment to place the name. House Arlene wasn’t a strong house, not by the standards of Ashworth or Ashfall. Their very lack of strength, however, made them ideal partners for
Lady Fulvia. She could practically dictate the terms of the marriage contract, knowing they would have little choice but to accept. But...what little she had heard about Gaius hadn’t been good. Women talked, after all, and stories were shared. Few girls had dated Gaius twice. She would have to write to them and find out why.

  “You will be formally introduced to him at the Cockatrice Faire,” Lady Fulvia continued, seemingly unaware of Melissa’s innermost thoughts. “The wedding will be held on the final night of the Faire, once all the contracts have been signed. You and he can then enjoy the joys of married life.”

  Melissa colored, then frowned. “Lady Fulvia, I...”

  “This is a great opportunity for you, and for your House,” Lady Fulvia continued, smoothly. “I would take it greatly amiss if anything was to interfere with the planned wedding.”

  Shit, Melissa thought.

  She hadn’t wanted to get married until after her graduation – as a married woman, she might not even be allowed to return to school – but she knew there was no point in arguing. Lady Fulvia would have had the contracts drawn up already and also would have gone through the formalities of gaining the approval of the family’s adults. The only person who might have been able to say no was Melissa’s father – and he’d died years ago. And she was not of age. She couldn’t refuse on her own.

  “Go back to your rooms and prepare yourself,” Lady Fulvia ordered. “We will leave for Cockatrice in four days.”

  Melissa winced, inwardly, as her mind caught up with what she was being told. Cockatrice. Of all the places they could hold the Faire, it had to be Cockatrice. It was not enough that she had to be pushed into a loveless marriage, was it? She had to endure her nuptials under the eyes of Lady Emily, Void’s daughter and Baroness of Cockatrice. But again, there was no point in arguing. Lady Fulvia had made up her mind.

  She rose, bowed again, and stalked out the door. There were letters to write, clothes to pack. And then...

  My life is going to change, she thought, morbidly. And who knows what will happen next?

  Chapter One

  “WE’RE DONE!”

  Emily looked up from her book as Alassa and Imaiqah ran into the room, long hair streaming down their backs. They dumped their bags on the table and smiled at her. They’d loudly complained about Emily finishing her exams two days ago — they’d had to keep revising while Emily had been able to relax — but now it was over. Defensive Magic was the final exam of the year.

  “Well done,” Emily said, as Alassa sat on Frieda’s bed. “How did it go?”

  “Mistress Tirana hates me,” Alassa said. She ran her hands through her long blonde hair as it fell out of her pins, framing her heart-shaped face. “I accidentally blew up one of her test dummies.”

  “Accident, my foot,” Imaiqah said. She sat on the floor, crossing her legs. “You did it on purpose.”

  “The idea was to render any potential attacker harmless,” Alassa countered. “I think I made the dummy very harmless.”

  “You can say that again,” Imaiqah muttered.

  “I think I made the dummy very harmless,” Alassa repeated. She stuck out her tongue at Imaiqah. “And I did, didn’t I?”

  Emily snorted as she put her book down on the table. Alassa and Imaiqah were an odd pair by anyone’s standards. One was tall, blonde and willowy, with a figure that wouldn’t have been out of place on a Barbie doll; the other was shorter, with black hair and tanned skin. She couldn’t help feeling a pang of jealously at how close the two had become, particularly in the days she’d been away from Whitehall. It was a natural reaction, she knew, but that didn’t make it any easier to bear.

  “So we leave in a couple of days,” she said, softly. “Are you packed and ready to go?”

  “Yes, mother,” Alassa said, mischievously. “I have everything packed, save for my robes, dresses, underclothes, books...”

  “Everything, in other words,” Imaiqah cut in.

  “Everything,” Alassa agreed. “But don’t worry about it. We can step through the portal at any time.”

  Emily nodded, ruefully. They could have left as soon as their exams were over — some of the students had already decamped back to their homes — but there was, as always, a leaving dance on the last night of term. She would have been happier skipping it altogether; her friends, on the other hand, had been looking forward to it since they’d started Third Year and there was no point in trying to argue with them. Imaiqah had persuaded Emily to try on various dresses for the last two months, while Alassa had threatened to ask her mother to send Emily even more dresses for her collection. It never seemed to matter that half of them were too revealing for Emily to wear in public, or that the other half were rarely used.

  “You must be looking forward to the Faire,” Imaiqah said, changing the subject. “Don’t you think it will be wonderful?”

  Emily winced. Last year, she’d been asked — in her persona as Baroness Cockatrice — to host the Faire on her lands. She’d agreed, and had then left the matter in the hands of her Castellan. There had just been too much going on in Third Year — first at Mountaintop, then at Whitehall — for her to pay close attention to her Barony. Now, she had the uneasy feeling that she was in for a surprise when she went back to the castle. The handful of reports she’d received had implied that the Faire would be larger than any before. Everyone wanted to get in on the game.

  The door opened again, revealing the Gorgon and Jade. Emily waved cheerfully as the door closed, and winked at the Gorgon. In many ways, she was as much an outsider at Whitehall as Emily herself, all the more so because she looked utterly inhuman. Her body might be humanoid — if green, with scales in odd places — but instead of hair she had a writhing mass of snakes. She was one of the cleverest students Emily had met, yet also one of the most unfortunate. There might be no classical racism in the Allied Lands, but supernatural creatures — like Gorgons — were hated and feared.

  Jade gave them all a bow. “A pleasure to be invited into this wondrous room,” he said formally, with a smile of his own. “It could not be a greater honor.”

  “You’re welcome,” Emily said. Given that Jade had once, in all seriousness, asked her to marry him, it was astonishing how relaxed she’d become around him. “How did your last set of classes go?”

  “Reasonably well,” Jade said. He gave Imaiqah and Alassa a significant look. “But it all depends on the exam results now.”

  “I think we did well,” the Gorgon said. “But someone blew up a dummy.”

  “There’s plenty more,” Jade said, unconcerned. “I blew up a dummy myself when I was a student.”

  “See,” Alassa said. “Blowing up dummies is considered good practice.”

  “They made me pay for it,” Jade said. “I don’t think they thought I took it seriously.”

  Emily smiled at him. “Why?”

  “Because I made a show of it,” Jade said. He shrugged. “Sergeant Miles said it was a waste of time and energy.”

  The door opened again. Aloha stepped into the room, carrying a small wooden box under her arm. Her dark face twisted into a smile when she looked at Emily, then she closed the door behind her and walked over to the wooden table. Emily rose to her feet and walked over to join her as Aloha put the box down, then opened it. Inside, there were several sheets of charmed parchment. Magic crackled over them as Aloha picked them up and placed them gingerly on the tabletop.

  “I had to spend several gold pieces to buy this lot,” Aloha said, as the others gathered round her. “The price of parchment has skyrocketed in the past few months.”

  Emily winced, inwardly. That was her fault. Introducing paper had seemed a good idea at the time, but it was now so easy to produce that it was pushing parchment-makers out of business. Unsurprisingly, stocks of parchment itself had started to fall, even though it was used in a number of magic spells and rituals. Emily suspected that the problem would eventually sort itself out — there would still be a demand for parchment from magic
ians and their students — but for the moment it was harder to get decent parchment. It didn’t make life any easier for struggling students.

  “I can pay for it,” Alassa offered.

  “I managed to get a grant for materials,” Aloha said, as she finished emptying the box. “But they may force me to repay some of it, once they’ve finished assessing my project.”

  She looked at Emily. “Or assessing the degree to which I...borrowed...one of your ideas.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Emily said. “I don’t intend to claim credit for anything.”

  The thought made her smile, inwardly. She knew she was no slouch when it came to practical magic, but Aloha was a genius. Emily suspected Aloha was the brightest — certainly the most capable — student in Whitehall. The idea behind the charmed parchment might have been Emily’s — more accurately, it had been something copied from Earth — but it had been Aloha who had made it work.

  “I don’t feel good about using one of your ideas,” Aloha admitted.

  “You made it work,” Emily reminded her. “I wasn’t able to do that for myself.”

  “Yet,” Aloha muttered. She cleared her throat. “I would remind you, all of you, that this ritual requires blood. If any of you have a problem with that, say so now or forever hold your peace.”

  Emily swallowed, uneasily. She knew — she had very good reason to know — just how dangerous it could be to let someone else have even a drop of her blood. Blood magic could be used to manipulate her mind, force her to do things she would normally never have considered, even control her body like a puppet. None of the others looked any happier at the prospect, even though they’d all known it was coming. To give up a drop of blood was to risk giving up control.

  Jade stepped forward. “I’m ready,” he said.

  Aloha passed him a tiny silver knife. Like the others Emily had used in the past, it was charmed to prevent the cut from hurting. Jade held his hand over the parchment, then nicked his flesh with the knife. Blood dripped from his palm and down to the parchment, where it pooled on the sheets. Alassa shot Jade an unreadable look, then took the knife and made a cut in her own palm. Emily braced herself, when it was her turn, and then cut herself, very lightly. Cutting her skin wasn’t easy, even with a charmed blade. It was hard to force herself to press the knife against her flesh.