The Right Side of History (Schooled In Magic Book 22) by Christopher Nuttall (ebook pc reader .txt) 📕

“All the more reason to marry as quickly as possible,” Dater said. “I don’t want to be dropped.”

Emily snorted. It wasn’t uncommon for marriage talks to get very close to the actual marriage before they were called off. Kings used princes and princesses as bargaining chips, often threatening to marry them into one family to ensure the other offered better terms. And the politics could be a nightmare. On the face of it, Mariah couldn’t hope to find a better match. Dater was a king in his own right. But if Dater lost the war, his father-in-law would have to support him... which, she noted, Dater was actually counting on.

“Red Rose might be stirring the pot,” she pointed out. “What if they were the ones who backed the rebellion?”

“King Rupert is not a fool,” Dater said. “He would not back a force that would come to threaten him, if it overwhelmed my kingdom.”

No, Emily agreed. But it wouldn’t stop them from fishing in troubled waters.

“I will put together a formal response to the rebels, if you’ll wait long enough for me to write it,” Dater said. He paused, leaning forward until he met her eyes. “I need to ask you a more... personal favor.”

Emily hesitated. “It would depend on what you were actually asking,” she said. Her imagination provided too many possibilities, none of them good. “What do you want?”

“I want you to guarantee the safety of my stepmother,” Crown Prince Dater said. “I do not want her to come to any harm.”

“I can try,” Emily said. “She’s alive. But right now, I don’t have that much leverage with the rebels.”

“They might listen to you,” Crown Prince Dater said. “It would be... unfortunate... if she died.”

Emily looked at her hands. She could see Dater’s point. His stepmother was in an odd position. She was no blood relation to the Crown Prince, who would be crowned king by the end of the day, yet her death would be embarrassing. It spoke well of Dater, she supposed, that he was at least trying to safeguard his stepmother. There were enough horror stories about royal stepmothers murdering their stepsons, in hopes of allowing their children to claim the throne, for him to be a little ambivalent about the queen.

“I can try,” she repeated. From what she recalled, the queen was linked to a handful of minor but influential families. They would make one hell of a fuss if she was executed by the rebels. “I will try. But I can’t promise anything.”

“I understand,” Dater assured her. “Just do the best you can.”

He stood, shaking his head. “Why can’t they be satisfied with their lot?”

Emily looked up at him. “Correct me if I’m wrong,” she said, “but weren’t you always the Crown Prince?”

“Yes, so?”

“You have spent your entire life being right at the top of the pecking order,” Emily said, curtly. It was a more complex answer than he wanted, she was sure. “Your father is - was - a powerful king. The rules didn’t really apply to you. You were never aware of this because it didn’t really touch you. You never really needed to be aware that you weren’t at the top because you were at the top. The rebels never had that unspoken assurance. They were always aware that they could be kicked at any moment and that there was nothing they could do about it. And then the rules started changing randomly.”

Dater eyed her, narrowly. “You sound as though you’re on their side.”

“You don’t have to agree with them,” Emily pointed out, “to realize they have a point.”

“Really?” Dater didn’t look convinced. “My forefathers pulled the kingdom together after the Empire crashed into ruins. What have they done for the kingdom?”

“They live in it,” Emily pointed out. “And they pay taxes. And that leads to the radical idea they should have a say in how those taxes are spent.”

Dater snorted in disgust. “Choose your side carefully,” he said, as he headed for the flap. “It will soon be too late to change your mind.”

Chapter Nineteen

THE SUN WAS SETTING AS EMILY and Lady Barb made their way back to the city. Emily had hoped to spend more time talking to the royalists, and perhaps taking a good look at Councilor Triune, but the Crown Prince had refused to let them stay the night. He’d been strikingly reluctant to even let them stay in the tent, let alone cross the defenses to visit the town. Emily feared he’d decided she wasn’t neutral, no matter what she’d said. The hell of it, she admitted sourly, was that he had a point.

She grimaced as the wind changed, blowing the stench of the city towards her. The rebels were doing what they could, but capturing a city was a great deal easier than running one. They were cremating the dead bodies and sweeping the streets, trying to keep them free of everything from horseshit to garbage, yet... she shook her head. It was just a matter of time before disease started to fester, then spread. There were just too many people within the city for the rebels to enforce proper sanitation.

And they can’t sweep the countryside for grain without the cavalry giving them a hard time, she mused. Dater might not have the manpower, or the guns, to retake the cities, but he could keep them under siege in hopes of forcing them to surrender. This isn’t going to end well.

They passed through the checkpoint, then rode through the streets to the palace. Emily was desperately tired and sore - she wanted a bath and a rest, in that order - but she knew the rebel council would expect her to report to them as soon as she arrived. She wondered, grimly, how ambassadors and messengers managed to do it all the time. They went back and forth time and time again, often several times in a day. She couldn’t quite believe it. It was...

“I’ll see