Read Online Lessons in Etiquette (Schooled in Magic series) by Christopher Nuttall - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher Nuttall
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books…and powerful spells intended to ensure that users actually kept quiet. She caught sight of a row of books that were chained to the shelves and smiled, remembering many happy hours of standing there and studying the charms. They couldn’t be taken out of the library, but she’d memorized the spells and copied them into her personal grimoire.
Absently, she picked one of the books off the shelves and glanced at it. Mentalism magic was complex and it was rare for anyone below fourth-year to try to learn it, but she’d had no choice. Shadye had invaded her mind and used her as a weapon against Whitehall. She needed a defense in case someone else managed to secure some of her blood. The memory of being moved like a puppet provided all the incentive she required. And yet there was no way to test it without actually convincing someone to try to control her, which posed dangers of its own. Who did she trust far enough to let them take some of her blood?
Catching herself, she glanced at her watch. It was almost ten bells.
Emily straightened up, returned the book to the shelf and then left the library. It was time to pick up her chest, meet up with Alassa and leave the school. And, she reminded herself, to meet Lady Barb. God alone knew how that was going to go.
Chapter Six
L ADY BARB WAS EASILY THE MOST striking woman that Emily had met.
She was tall, taller than Emily, with blonde hair cropped close to her head. Her body was incredibly muscular, reminding Emily of Sergeant Harkin; her face was not classically beautiful, but one look told Emily that this was not a person to take lightly. She wore a silver breastplate, dark trousers and a sword, even though she was clearly a powerful sorceress. Emily could feel the magic surrounding her as soon as she walked into the entrance hall.
Lady Barb was talking to the grandmaster, their voices hidden behind a privacy ward. She looked like a giant compared to his diminutive form, although Emily suspected that the grandmaster probably had the edge in raw power. Lady Barb threw Emily a sharp glance as soon as she saw her, before shifting her gaze to Alassa. She must have seen something she liked, because she nodded before returning her attention to the grandmaster. Emily wondered if they were talking about her , or Alassa. Lady Barb didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would put up with a royal brat.
“Oh, joy,” Alassa muttered. “Here comes the twisting tongue.”
Emily blinked. She hadn’t spotted the other man standing by the main door–Lady Barb had taken all of her attention–until he started to step forward. There was something about his movement that made her think of crawling , at least partly because he kept bowing in Alassa’s direction, almost as if he were dancing towards her. His face, when he straightened up briefly, looked remarkably unformed, almost as if he had no character at all. And his eyes glinted oddly when he looked at Emily.
“Princess,” the man said, in a breathy voice. “You are the light that knows no borders, the joy that grows in hearts, the…”
Emily’s first impulse was to snicker. The man seemed to be exaggerating every movement, as well as bombarding Alassa with absurdly flattering praise…and then she realized that he meant every word. He seriously believed that she would be impressed by such praise, even though she had to know that it was absurd. Emily glanced at her friend, saw a half-bitter expression on Alassa’s face and realized that she must have grown up hearing it every day. No wonder she had turned into such a brat. A child couldn’t have known the difference between honest praise and someone flattering her because of her birth.
What a crawler , she thought, as the praise turned ever more fulsome. I wonder how much they have to pay him for that…
“Thank you,” Alassa said gravely, cutting him off in mid-flatter. “Emily, this is Viscount Nightingale, the Master of the Princess’s Bedchamber. Viscount,
Absently, she picked one of the books off the shelves and glanced at it. Mentalism magic was complex and it was rare for anyone below fourth-year to try to learn it, but she’d had no choice. Shadye had invaded her mind and used her as a weapon against Whitehall. She needed a defense in case someone else managed to secure some of her blood. The memory of being moved like a puppet provided all the incentive she required. And yet there was no way to test it without actually convincing someone to try to control her, which posed dangers of its own. Who did she trust far enough to let them take some of her blood?
Catching herself, she glanced at her watch. It was almost ten bells.
Emily straightened up, returned the book to the shelf and then left the library. It was time to pick up her chest, meet up with Alassa and leave the school. And, she reminded herself, to meet Lady Barb. God alone knew how that was going to go.
Chapter Six
L ADY BARB WAS EASILY THE MOST striking woman that Emily had met.
She was tall, taller than Emily, with blonde hair cropped close to her head. Her body was incredibly muscular, reminding Emily of Sergeant Harkin; her face was not classically beautiful, but one look told Emily that this was not a person to take lightly. She wore a silver breastplate, dark trousers and a sword, even though she was clearly a powerful sorceress. Emily could feel the magic surrounding her as soon as she walked into the entrance hall.
Lady Barb was talking to the grandmaster, their voices hidden behind a privacy ward. She looked like a giant compared to his diminutive form, although Emily suspected that the grandmaster probably had the edge in raw power. Lady Barb threw Emily a sharp glance as soon as she saw her, before shifting her gaze to Alassa. She must have seen something she liked, because she nodded before returning her attention to the grandmaster. Emily wondered if they were talking about her , or Alassa. Lady Barb didn’t seem to be the kind of person who would put up with a royal brat.
“Oh, joy,” Alassa muttered. “Here comes the twisting tongue.”
Emily blinked. She hadn’t spotted the other man standing by the main door–Lady Barb had taken all of her attention–until he started to step forward. There was something about his movement that made her think of crawling , at least partly because he kept bowing in Alassa’s direction, almost as if he were dancing towards her. His face, when he straightened up briefly, looked remarkably unformed, almost as if he had no character at all. And his eyes glinted oddly when he looked at Emily.
“Princess,” the man said, in a breathy voice. “You are the light that knows no borders, the joy that grows in hearts, the…”
Emily’s first impulse was to snicker. The man seemed to be exaggerating every movement, as well as bombarding Alassa with absurdly flattering praise…and then she realized that he meant every word. He seriously believed that she would be impressed by such praise, even though she had to know that it was absurd. Emily glanced at her friend, saw a half-bitter expression on Alassa’s face and realized that she must have grown up hearing it every day. No wonder she had turned into such a brat. A child couldn’t have known the difference between honest praise and someone flattering her because of her birth.
What a crawler , she thought, as the praise turned ever more fulsome. I wonder how much they have to pay him for that…
“Thank you,” Alassa said gravely, cutting him off in mid-flatter. “Emily, this is Viscount Nightingale, the Master of the Princess’s Bedchamber. Viscount,
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