Emily blushed. “I can’t imagine.”
She shook her head as Cabiria giggled. There was a part of her that would like a new relationship, but one with fewer strings attached. Things wouldn’t have grown so ... sticky ... with Caleb if he hadn’t opened a formal courtship. Meeting Cabiria’s cousins, after graduation, wouldn’t be quite the same as dating someone in Whitehall. She didn’t think they’d be allowed to date in peace ...
Particularly as I haven’t met them, she thought, wryly. She was not rushing into another courtship. They might be sweet on the outside, but monstrous on the inside.
“My parents also want to meet you,” Cabiria said. “They want to discuss magical theory and other matters.”
Emily frowned. “What sort of magical theory?”
“They didn’t say,” Cabiria told her.
“Oh,” Emily said.
Her thoughts raced. What did Cabiria’s parents know? Did they know anything? Her innovations, as far as anyone knew, were strictly mundane. She’d never told anyone, save for Lady Barb, about the batteries or the nuke-spell. Unless ... had they caught wind of the virtual spellware? It was possible they had obtained a copy of Caleb’s original proposal, written while Emily had been in Second Year. Gordian might even have sent them a copy of the updated proposal ...
Or maybe they just want to introduce me to their nephews, she thought. Who knows what ...?
She looked up as someone tapped on the door, sharply. Cabiria made an odd noise. They were Sixth Years, senior students ... no one could turf them out of a study room. The door opened a minute later, revealing Jacqui. She seemed oddly amused.
“I caught an older student pranking younger students,” she said, her eyes alight with malice. “I thought the Head Girl should take care of it personally.”
Emily rose, slowly. No one played pranks in the library. The librarians took a dim view of anything that interfered with studies. Even speaking too loudly could result in punishment—or, at worst, a ban that made it impossible for a student to complete the year. Whatever had happened, it had happened outside the library. And that meant ...
Her eyes narrowed. Jacqui wasn’t a tattletale. Whitehall disapproved of tattletales, not when students were expected to overcome their problems on their own. And Jacqui probably wouldn’t give a damn if younger students were pranking each other, even if it was technically forbidden. It wasn’t her job to keep the younger students in line.
“They’re in the lower corridor, by the statue of Terrance the Tamer,” Jacqui added. “You’d better go before they manage to escape.”
Emily gave her a sharp look and then strode out of the study room. She could feel Jacqui’s eyes on her back as she walked through the door and down the stairs, heading straight for the statue. Ice was starting to congeal in her chest, a presentiment of disaster. The wards were flickering alerts, trying to summon the nearest tutor. Emily wondered, sourly, why someone hadn’t beaten her to the scene. Jacqui must have run to the library, just to find Emily. And yet, she hadn’t looked to be out of breath ...
Emily rounded the corner and stopped, dead. Frieda stood there, frozen by magic. Two younger students—both Second Years, judging by their robes—were also frozen. Emily felt a flicker of relief as she realized that neither of them were her mentees, then winced as she saw the frogs—also frozen—on the floor. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to sense the different magical signatures. Jacqui had laid down an impressively comprehensive freezing spell, but it was Frieda who’d cast the other spells. And she’d cast them on Second Years ...
Shit, Emily thought, numbly.
Jacqui’s spell snapped. Frieda stumbled forward, then collapsed to the floor as her muscles cramped violently. The others fell too, gasping in pain. Jacqui had used a cruel spell, part of Emily’s mind noted. She’d locked up their muscles rather than simply freezing them in place. It wasn’t an easy spell to break, but still ... Frieda should have been able to break it before Emily arrived. Unless ...
“She turned them into frogs,” one of the younger students cried. “She ...”
Emily glanced at Frieda, who was pulling herself up into a sitting position, then looked at the frogs. They stared back at her, beseechingly. Emily sighed as she cast the counterspell, wondering if she was doing them any favors. But Frieda had used a transfiguration spell that was cunningly designed to be hard to remove, from the inside. It wasn’t quite fixed in place—something that would have landed Frieda in real trouble—but neither of the victims could escape. Emily groaned as they returned to human form. They, too, were Second Years.
She gazed at Frieda, who looked back at her defiantly. What had happened?
“Go back to your dorms,” Emily ordered the Second Years. She glanced at her watch. “Stay there until dinner, then go eat.”
“But ...”
“Go,” she repeated. “Now.”
She looked at Frieda. “Come with me.”
The wards pulsed against her mind as she led Frieda into a nearby classroom. They hadn’t recorded everything that had happened, merely the brief exchange of magic. Emily was torn between relief—the staff couldn’t monitor their words—and concern. Whatever had happened, it looked bad for Frieda. She was a Fourth Year. Picking on Second Years was beneath her. It would also land her in hot water if anyone else found out.
Jacqui did find out, Emily thought. What happened?
She cast a handful of privacy wards, then met Frieda’s eyes. “What happened?”
“They were talking about you,” Frieda said. “One of them said ...”
Emily winced as Frieda’s voice trailed off. Of course one of them had mouthed off. Frieda wasn’t the sort of person to let an insult go by, not given her upbringing. And it hadn’t even been an insult about Frieda herself.
Frieda looked down. “They deserved it.”
“You’re two years older than them,” Emily pointed out, carefully. It was hard to reprimand Frieda. She was a friend. “They shouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“They’re all in the dueling club,” Frieda said, tartly.
“Which is meaningless,” Emily countered. “You know as well as I do that the older students dominate the arena.”
“I kicked what’s-his-name’s ass,” Frieda snapped.
“That’s because he got careless.” Emily cleared her throat. “Playing freeze tag with younger students is one thing. Hexing them in the corridors is quite another.”
“They insulted you,” Frieda insisted, stubbornly. “I taught them a lesson.”
“Perhaps not the right lesson.” Emily gritted her teeth. There had been times, back on Earth, when she would have sold her soul for the power to silence her critics. The rational side of her mind pointed out that it wouldn’t have gained her anything, but she had to admit that it would have felt good. “Frieda, you can’t go picking on younger students. You know that!”
Frieda wilted. “Are you really that angry at me?”