And how many of her feelings are real? Emily asked herself. And how many are due to Daze playing games with her mind?
She pushed the thought aside, sharply. It was something they would have to deal with, afterwards. She’d never thought of Frieda as anything other than a little sister ... she’d never been interested in girls, not in that way. And even if she had been, Frieda was in no state to do anything. It was quite possible that the lattice had boosted her crush too.
Gritting her teeth, she took a tighter hold on the lattice and pulled as hard as she could. It struggled for a long moment, then came free ... pulling a whole string of thoughts and feelings in its wake. Emily cursed as they assaulted her mind, trying to weaken her defenses so the lattice could worm its way into her thoughts. But they had started to fade the moment they came free. She concentrated on her defenses, watching coolly as the lattice and its companions started to vanish. Deprived of their connection to Frieda, unable to snag hold of Emily’s mind, it was only a matter of time.
Emily wanted to pull back, as soon as the last one faded away, but she knew she had to be sure the curse was gone. She moved forward, feeling Frieda’s thoughts pulsing around her. Wave after wave of sensation brushed against her thoughts—shame, guilt, fear, surrender—but they all seemed to be Frieda’s. She knew someone more experienced would have to inspect Frieda’s mind, just to be sure, yet ...
She isn’t trying to kill herself any longer, she told herself. That is an improvement, isn’t it?
She snapped back into her body, instantly aware of a weight on her chest and liquid dripping onto her face. Frieda was crying silently, tears falling from her eyes and splashing on Emily’s cheeks. She’d never cried loudly, Emily recalled. It had always earned her a beating, when she’d been a child. Now ... now she could no longer cry normally. She rarely cried at all.
“It’s all right,” Emily said, softly. Frieda was shaking, her body shivering helplessly. “I’ve got you.”
She gently pushed Frieda off, then rose and looked around. Daze was definitely dead, but she put his body in stasis anyway. The effort tired her more than she’d expected, yet she doubted she had a choice. Daze could have charmed his body to reanimate after his death—or worse. She couldn’t sense any magic on the corpse, but that meant nothing. Her brain was too tired to work properly.
Frieda sat upright. “I’m sorry ...”
There was something mournful in her voice, something that tore at Emily’s heart. A bitter guilt, mingled with shame. Frieda hadn’t been compelled to do anything, not at first. She’d been pushed and prodded, her tiny resentments and dislikes boosted until they’d overwhelmed her ... it would be hard for an outsider to tell how much of her behavior had been hers and how much had been the result of manipulation.
The bracelet lay on the floor, glinting under the light. Emily picked it up and studied it, thoughtfully. The tiny charm was a masterwork, she had to admit. Frieda didn’t have the skill to realize that it didn’t just provide a degree of protection. And no one else would have noticed unless they looked very closely. She felt a stab of guilt. She should have looked closely.
“It wasn’t your fault,” Emily said. She looked down at herself. Her shirt was torn and damp, stained with the remains of the durian potion. “And we’ll talk about it later.”
She helped Frieda to her feet. “We’ll have to get a wash and a change,” she added. She didn’t want to think about Frieda having a crush on her, not now. Somehow, the idea of a girl having a crush on her had never crossed her mind. It had taken her long enough to realize that Caleb liked her. “And then we’ll have to go back to school.”
Frieda jabbed a finger at Daze’s body. “What about him?”
“We’ll take him with us,” Emily said. If they were lucky, Daze’s body would be enough to keep Gordian from trying to arrest them both on sight. Melissa could presumably identify him, if nothing else. Adana too, perhaps. “And then we’ll have to decide what to do next.”
She picked up the snake and returned him to his bracelet form, then led the way up the stairs, silently grateful that she’d listened to Void’s advice about stockpiling food and drink. They’d be able to get something to eat before they returned to Whitehall, as well as cleaning up the mess before it really started to stink. She’d never liked the idea of keeping servants, particularly when the house was supposed to be closed down while she was at school, but she could see the downside now. Someone else wasn’t going to be doing the cleaning up for her.
“Get undressed,” she ordered, as they entered the bathroom. She didn’t think she wanted to be naked in front of anyone right now, but she didn’t want to leave Frieda alone. The younger girl was still a suicide risk. “We’ll take a quick shower and then have a bite to eat.”
“As you wish,” Frieda said. She sounded tired and depressed. Emily wondered if she should put Frieda in stasis too. “And then ... what?”
Emily sighed. They’d have to face the music, of course. Legally, Frieda couldn’t be blamed for anything she’d been compelled to do, but proving that she’d actually been compelled might be difficult. Daze’s subliminal prompts were already fading into nothingness.
“I don’t know,” she said.
Chapter Forty
WHITEHALL FELT DIFFERENT, EMILY NOTICED, AS they made their way up the drive towards the gatehouse. Daze’s body floated after them, bobbing in the wind. It was late afternoon on a weekend, yet there were no students or tutors in sight, something she knew was almost always a bad sign. The small collection of horses in the gatehouse was worse. Their caparisons suggested that they belonged to mediators or combat sorcerers.
At least they’re not hunting for us, Emily thought, although she wasn’t sure that was a good thing. The hunters would be annoyed if they discovered they’d wasted their time, but at least they’d be out of the way. A single spell-happy idiot who started casting spells before she could explain would be enough to cause a tragedy. But where are they?
Sergeant Miles stepped out of the gatehouse, his arms folded across his chest. “Emily. Frieda.”
Emily swallowed. Beside her, Frieda shivered, brushing against Emily’s arm. Emily shot her a reassuring glance, even though she didn’t feel it. She’d prepared herself to face Gordian, not Sergeant Miles. But in some ways it was a relief. Sergeant Miles would listen to her, at least. She reached out with her senses, but felt nothing within the gatehouse. That didn’t prove he was alone, she reminded herself sharply. Anyone could be hiding inside and she wouldn’t know unless she drew on the wards.
“It wasn’t her fault,” Emily said. It struck her, suddenly, that Sergeant Miles might have deliberately chosen to greet her. He’d be as aware of the potential for disaster as Emily herself. “She was manipulated.”