Fists of Justice (Schooled in Magic #12)

“Marian would not have betrayed us,” Caleb said. “She…”

His voice trailed off. Emily understood, all too well. Marian had loved Casper, mourned his death…blamed Emily for his death. She’d had good reason to want to follow Justice even before the entity had begun making appearances. And once Justice had gotten his hooks into Marian’s mind, she would no longer have known right from wrong. She’d been so focused on avenging Casper that she hadn’t realized what she was doing.

And what, her own thoughts asked her, if she did know what she was doing?

“Emily.” Caleb breathed rapidly, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Emily, if you’re wrong about this…”

Emily silently filled in the blanks. The end of their relationship, certainly. A new enemy, one who knew too much about her. And…perhaps Caleb would try to kill her. She wouldn’t even blame him if he wanted to take a swing at her, not after what she’d told him. He valued his family, loved his family. The thought of losing them hurt him more than he could say.

And if he had to choose between me and them, she thought bitterly, he’d choose them.

She closed her eyes in pain. She’d never had siblings. She’d never really understood, not at an emotional level, just what it meant to have siblings. Or, perhaps, what it meant to be betrayed by someone so close to her. Caleb would never recover from the blow, even if Marian turned out to be innocent. He’d still have to cope with Emily hurting him…

“I’m sorry,” she said. She didn’t open her eyes. “Someone had to have betrayed us…”

Emily heard footsteps echoing across the room, followed by the door slamming. She opened her eyes. Caleb was gone. She wondered if he’d gone to tell his parents…to tell his parents what? That their youngest daughter might have betrayed them? Or to formally end the courtship. Or…

They’d had fights before, Emily remembered. There had been friendly arguments over magic techniques and a nastier argument over more intimate matters. They’d hurt, more than she cared to admit, but they’d kissed and made up. She hoped, deep inside, that they could put this argument behind them too…

“He’s never been a younger sister,” Frieda said. “He can’t understand what it’s like.”

Emily gave her a sharp look. “Explain.”

Frieda looked…tired. “The first two or three children are treated like…like valuable children.” Her lips twitched, as if she wanted to smile humorlessly. “After that, they become a drain on resources. The older siblings know they’re wanted; the younger siblings aren’t so sure. All the bitter resentments start to pile up…”

“Marian was loved,” Emily said. Frieda had grown up in the Cairngorms, where families lived close to the edge. She’d known, from the moment she was old enough to think, that her family considered her expendable, that she might be killed one day so the rest of the family might live. Marian had lived a very different life. “Marian is loved.”

“She may not have seen it that way,” Frieda said, quietly.

Emily looked down at the table. They had to stop Justice. She knew they had to stop Justice before the entire city was consumed. And yet, part of her wanted to stay in the room and hide. She’d hurt Caleb badly, even if she was right. And if she was wrong…

She shook her head. It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Fuck it.” She looked up at the younger girl. “Do any of us have a happy family?”

“Imaiqah,” Frieda said, after a moment. “And Jade.”

Emily nodded, tiredly. Jade was an only child. So was Alassa. Frieda had no intention of ever going home, any more than Emily herself. Emily had no idea about the Gorgon or Aloha. Imaiqah was the only one with a large and happy family.

And even her family has secrets, Emily thought. What will happen when some of them get out?

She rose, feeling her joints starting to ache. Her body was tired and her soul…she felt dead, as if her thoughts and feelings were wrapped in a grey haze. She wanted to climb into bed and forget the world, forget everything…she knew, intellectually, that she was being stupid, but it was hard to believe it. She didn’t want to believe it.

“Sit down,” Frieda said. “I’ll get you some food.”

She rose and gently pushed Emily back into her chair. “I know how you feel,” she said, briskly. “But you’re in no state to talk to anyone at the moment.”

Emily closed her eyes, again. Perhaps a little nap…she heard Frieda walking across the room and leaving, closing the door behind her. A little nap…the door opened again, seconds later. Or had she fallen asleep? She couldn’t swear to anything. And yet…the footsteps echoing towards her were not Frieda’s.

She turned. Sienna stood behind her, carrying a tray of food and a mug of water. Emily cringed, inwardly. Sienna was the last person she wanted to talk to right now, even though they had to work together. If Caleb had been mad at her, Sienna would be even worse. Perhaps she should save time and insult the rest of the family.

“Eat,” Sienna ordered, putting the tray on the table. “Please.”

Emily hesitated.

Sienna snorted. “You would hardly be the first young woman to have emotional problems at the worst possible time.” She sounded more annoyed than angry. “Or to put your foot in your mouth when no one has any patience or tolerance at all. You need to eat, so you will eat.”

She tapped the table, meaningfully. “Eat.”

Emily gritted her teeth and took the spoon. Sienna – or someone – had cooked another fish stew. It smelled vaguely off, but her spells insisted it was safe to eat. The people who lived in Fishing Plaice probably didn’t get the best food, she thought, as she took a bite. It was so bland and favorless that she wished for spices, or even salt and pepper. The potato was just as favorless as the stew.

Christopher Nuttall's books