《Fallen Magic》


 1. Falling

    It sounds absurd to say I¡¯m Falling. There¡¯s a thousand bad things happening in the world: famine in Sirgal, the worst summer storms in half a century, and everywhere people suffering because of lack of money or cruel parents or employers. People survive all those things. They go on.


    Then there¡¯s me: a smart girl from a prosperous suburb, attending one of the best schools in the country, with parents who love me and want nothing more than for me to be successful. And yet I¡¯m Falling. I can¡¯t deny it any more. Not now it¡¯s happened three times.


    The first time was during a night in the middle of end-of-year exams. There¡¯d been a horrible question on my least favourite topic on the maths exam, for which I produced a page of scribbling and nothing remotely resembling an answer, and I couldn¡¯t get it out of my head. So I was lying awake staring at the ceiling when it clicked into place.


    And all I could think was why didn¡¯t I work that out sooner? And then why am I not asleep? I have two more exams tomorrow and I need sleep. That was when I felt it. My heart beating unnaturally fast, a sudden rush of energy and the urge to run, to get out. The usual silly things the mind does in the middle of the night ¨C except for the urgency of it, the realisation that I couldn¡¯t go on this way.


    I lay there until the feeling passed, then rolled over and tried again to sleep, and when I woke up thought nothing more of it.


    Until a month later, the first day of my internship with Greenwood and Sons. They weren¡¯t particularly welcoming, and then when I was asked to write up a case summary, I realised I¡¯d forgotten my quill. It¡¯s nothing particularly special, though the self-inking enchantment cost my dad a week¡¯s earnings, but it¡¯s mine. I felt a little more lost and out of place without it, and furious with myself for forgetting.


    It was far stronger that time, like I was hearing my heartbeat from behind a wall of glass, like I was watching someone else standing up from her tiny desk in the corner, tall and straight, knowing that she had to do something ¨C


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± asked the stick-thin secretary assigned to look after me, adjusting the position of her glasses. ¡°Is there something you want?¡±


    And then I was myself again, blinking a few times, muttering something about how I was just stretching and could I borrow a quill, and sitting back down. I have no idea how I convinced that secretary that I wasn¡¯t a complete waste of space, because I couldn¡¯t pay attention to anything I did for the rest of that day. The word just kept echoing in my head: Falling. Falling. Falling.


    I know as much about Falling as any other fifteen-year-old: the contents of the government-mandated assembly and a handful of copper-tales which aren¡¯t remotely reliable sources. It¡¯s the Awakening of Malaina, one of the Five Schools of Magic ¨C and is ¡°triggered by severe or prolonged trauma, physical or mental¡±.


    So I couldn¡¯t be Falling. I¡¯d be lying if I said I loved my life, but it¡¯s hardly traumatic. My symptoms from that day were disconcertingly similar to what was outlined in the assembly, but that was just a coincidence. It was a freak incident, never to be repeated.


    It wasn¡¯t for the entire summer. I¡¯d nearly forgotten about it by the time term started yesterday and I realised I¡¯d left the Rasina essay I¡¯d spent hours working on at home. With most teachers that wouldn¡¯t be a problem since I¡¯m a good student, but my Rasina teacher hates me. I haven¡¯t worked out if it¡¯s racism or a hatred of scholarship girls, but he decided that despite my near-perfect record I was lying, I hadn¡¯t done the essay and I was going to stay in and write it during lunch.


    One moment I was trying to control the surge of pure anger enough to plead my case, and the next I was stalking towards his desk, moving under some power not my own, and I knew that when I got there everything was going to change and he would never call me a liar again ¨C


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    I didn¡¯t quite make it that far. It faded away, but not before earning me a second lunchtime detention in a couple of hours.


    That didn¡¯t bother me as much as it usually would. Because I knew I was Falling, then, however absurd it might sound. And I had to tell someone.


    It sounds straightforward. It isn¡¯t, for me. Mother saw the detention slip in my hand as soon as I got home yesterday, and I couldn¡¯t work out whether she was more angry with the Rasina teacher or with me for forgetting. She made me promise to take in the essay and force him to grade that rather than whatever you scribbled in an hour. She¡¯s right: the rewritten essay was not exactly my best work.


    But after a conversation like that, I couldn¡¯t just say ¡°Mum, I can¡¯t do this any more. I¡¯m Falling.¡±


    Dad would be easier to talk to, if he were actually in the house. But he¡¯s defending a man accused of murder, and that¡¯s taking up all of his time. I¡¯m not sure he even came home last night.


    So that leaves one of the teachers. They¡¯re all nice enough, though, but I don¡¯t know any of them that well ¨C and, more importantly, most of them don¡¯t know me that well. I do my work on time and don¡¯t cause any trouble, so I¡¯m half-convinced they forget I exist sometimes.


    Miss Jenkins will listen, though, I hope. She teaches history, which has always been my favourite subject, and we like each other. That¡¯s the best chance I¡¯ve got, but her breaks and mine aren¡¯t at the same time today; she was still teaching when I looked in a few minutes ago.


    Which leaves me leaning against the oak tree outside the science building, considering whether I have time to go to the library before my next class. I¡¯ve already been halfway across the campus so there¡¯s only fifteen minutes left of break, which would barely leave me long enough to pick out books.


    My next history lesson is straight after lunch. I cling to that hope desperately. Get through one more lesson, one detention, and then I have an hour of the First Civil War to lose myself in. I¡¯ll talk to Miss Jenkins straight after the lesson.


    ¡°Tallulah! There you are!¡±


    The voice, young and offensively cheerful, jolts me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Ruby, the younger sister of my lab partner.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you everywhere.¡±


    What does she ¨C oh. Right. Chloe made me promise I¡¯d help her sister out with Sirgalese irregular verbs, didn¡¯t she? And I was promptly distracted by Falling and forgot all about that promise.


    I can barely remember the conjugation of irin, to be, right now, but I force myself to smile. ¡°Hi, Ruby. I only have fifteen minutes until my next class, but what do you need?¡±


    ¡°Great, thanks!¡± Ruby sits down beside me and opens her workbook. ¡°I don¡¯t understand these exercises¡­¡±


    I stare at the workbook for a second. ¡°This is just basic conjugation,¡± I say. ¡°What don¡¯t you understand?¡± Harsher than I intended, but if being snappish with her is the worst thing I do in the next few hours then that¡¯s pretty good.


    ¡°I don¡¯t get it, though. How does it work?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± I stare at her blankly. If she¡¯d paid any attention when the work was assigned, or in any recent Sirgalese lesson, she¡¯d know how it worked. I can¡¯t deal with this right now. ¡°It¡¯s just ¨C ¡°


    I really can¡¯t deal with this right now. Something snaps. It¡¯s subtler than before, so I almost think that it¡¯s me picking up that workbook and methodically tearing out the page on which she¡¯s copied down the assignment.


    ¡°Tallulah, what are you doing? I need that, it¡¯s ¨C ¡°


    Oh, yes, I think, but it¡¯s abstract, without urgency: finding the answer to a tricky problem. It¡¯s not really me doing this, it¡¯s because I¡¯m Falling, and this is it. If I don¡¯t stop it now, there¡¯ll be no going back.


    It¡¯s like I¡¯m standing in front of a cliff, a thousand-foot drop in front of me, and my instinct to get away from that before you Fall isn¡¯t working properly. I¡¯m perfectly calm as I scrunch the parchment up into a ball and roll it between my hands. I stood up at some point, though I don¡¯t remember doing that.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡± asks Ruby again. There¡¯s a note of fear in her voice now. Good, says a voice within me that isn¡¯t mine. She should be afraid of me.


    No ¨C that¡¯s not right ¨C


    I have to stop ¨C


    I can¡¯t ¨C


    I throw the ball of parchment to the ground between us and give it a disdainful glare.


    It catches fire.


    Ruby screams.


    The parchment was no good; it¡¯s burnt to a shrivelled-out husk in seconds. That won¡¯t do at all. The rest of Ruby¡¯s workbook sits beside it, though, and with a simple wave of my hand it¡¯s burning too.


    ¡°No ¨C stop ¨C ¡° Ruby has the presence of mind to tear off her uniform jacket and start beating at the fire, trying to smother it of life, but this isn¡¯t an ordinary fire. Her attempts have no effect, except that after a little while the jacket itself catches light.


    She¡¯s holding it by the sleeves, the flame isn¡¯t too near her body, but she drops it as quickly as if she were holding her fingers to the fire and then flees toward the building.


    I shrug and turn my attention to the tree. It should burn well enough to make a proper blaze.

 2. Interlude: Incident Report

    INCIDENT BLACK ELM


    CLASSIFICATION LEVEL EIGHT POINT FIVE


    Interview with Henry Lord Blackthorn, aka Agent Raven


    3.9.1040, midnight and thirty-three


    Interviewer: Raven


    Also present: Edward Blackthorn, aka POI-1678


    Security precautions taken: The building is fully warded to prevent the entrance of intruders. Staff and agents are instructed to make sure the room is undisturbed, and an additional privacy ward was set up around the room itself. POI-1678 is unconscious following an initial Malaina episode, and since he is already aware of a large portion of the events concerned no further precautions were judged necessary.


    INTERVIEWER: Describe the events of the evening of the second day of the Hunter¡¯s Moon.


    INTERVIEWEE: I returned home at nine and sixteen to be greeted by my housekeeper ¨C


    INTERVIEWER: To be clear, your housekeeper is one Elspeth Grey, also known as Agent Lynx?


    INTERVIEWEE: Correct.


    INTERVIEWER: Thank you. Continue.


    INTERVIEWEE: She informed me that my son ¨C Edward ¨C one-six-seven-eight ¨C had not returned from his evening walk.


    INTERVIEWER: It is his habit to take these walks?


    INTERVIEWEE: Yes.


    INTERVIEWER: Where does he typically go?


    INTERVIEWEE: I don¡¯t know specifically, but never further than a mile from this building, and never leaving the City walls, unless he has deceived me.


    INTERVIEWER: How long do these walks typically take?


    INTERVIEWEE: Approximately an hour.


    INTERVIEWER: And what time does he typically leave?


    INTERVIEWEE: After dinner, which is served at six and thirty ¨C so usually between seven and seven and fifteen.


    INTERVIEWER: So he was approximately an hour late at that time?


    INTERVIEWEE: Correct.


    INTERVIEWER: Was this an unusual practice for him?


    INTERVIEWEE: He had never been late before.


    INTERVIEWER: What did you suspect about the cause of this?


    INTERVIEWEE: There were several possible explanations. He could have encountered something he judged worth investigating or otherwise been distracted, or potentially he¡­


    INTERVIEWER: Continue.


    INTERVIEWEE: Relations between us had become¡­ somewhat strained recently. It was possible that he just wanted to be out of the house, away from me.


    INTERVIEWER: I see. Hostile action did not occur as an explanation?


    INTERVIEWEE: It did, but I judged it moderately unlikely.


    INTERVIEWER: How did you respond?


    INTERVIEWEE: I questioned Lynx about his recent behaviour. Regrettably there are no formal notes, but at the time I believed it unlikely to be an intelligence matter.


    INTERVIEWER: Understandable. Can you recall your questions and her responses?


    INTERVIEWEE: I asked if one-six-seven-eight¡¯s behaviour prior to leaving had been unusual and if he had mentioned being out for longer. She replied that she hadn¡¯t noticed anything out of the ordinary, and that she was worried about him.


    INTERVIEWER: Were you worried yourself?


    INTERVIEWEE: I was, yes.


    INTERVIEWER: What did you do next?


    INTERVIEWEE: One-six-seven-eight and I are linked by a pair of enchanted rings which can transmit simple signals. I ¨C


    INTERVIEWER: Are you authorised to use such an artifact?


    INTERVIEWEE: This was not in an intelligence capacity. As a Royal Magician I am entitled to own and use any enchanted device which is not specifically prohibited for all use, and as a Lord of the Kingdom to bestow such devices on members of my family as I see fit.


    INTERVIEWER: Who is capable of using these rings?


    INTERVIEWEE: Anyone who has the physical object in their possession. As yet I have been unable to combine the enchantments to restrict their use with those necessary for their function successfully.


    INTERVIEWER: You worked the enchantments yourself, then?


    INTERVIEWEE: Yes. It minimises the chance of interference, and is significantly cheaper than hiring another enchanter.


    INTERVIEWER: What would you say this chance of interference is?


    INTERVIEWEE: Unintentional interference through category four or higher anti-magic wards is possible if one of us were in the area of such wards. Intentional interference without physical possession of one of the rings, I judge to be impossible, especially since one-six-seven-eight and I are the only persons to know of their existence.


    INTERVIEWER: One-six-seven-eight could interfere with their operation himself?


    INTERVIEWEE: He was not a magician until approximately ten this evening, and has not been in a fit state to work enchantment since. But he could remove his ring or refuse to acknowledge its signal.


    INTERVIEWER: Or pass the ring or information on it to someone capable of interference?


    INTERVIEWEE: Theoretically.


    INTERVIEWER: And in practice?


    INTERVIEWEE: My son would not betray me.


    INTERVIEWER: You have incorrectly believed that someone would never betray you in the past, have you not?


    INTERVIEWEE: That is not relevant.


    INTERVIEWER: Is it not?


    (There is a short period of silence.)


    INTERVIEWEE: In this particular case, I judged that the risks were minimal and outweighed by the benefits, since without those rings my ability to gather information would have been greatly impaired.


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    INTERVIEWER: And how did you use them in this instance?


    INTERVIEWEE: I sent a signal to one-six-seven-eight. An instruction to respond immediately if possible.


    INTERVIEWER: And the response¡­


    INTERVIEWEE: None. Yes, before you say anything, it did occur to me that he could have deliberately chosen not to respond. But he knew to take this seriously. I told him that if he didn¡¯t respond he¡¯d have to deal with me descending on his position with a team of Birds.


    INTERVIEWER: And yet that¡¯s not what you did.


    INTERVIEWEE: No. Using appropriate enchantment equipment and a reliable mental map of the City, I used the rings to narrow down his location to a particular district ¨C the warehouses on the east bank ¨C and then repeated the process there to give me his location.


    INTERVIEWER: Which was?


    INTERVIEWEE: One of the warehouses. Storing furniture, as far as I could tell. Owned by the Two Rivers Corporation. Suggests Sirgalese links. I¡¯ll have people digging into their records as soon as is practical.


    INTERVIEWER: You went there alone?


    INTERVIEWEE: Yes.


    INTERVIEWER: Without telling anyone where you were going?


    INTERVIEWEE: I told Lynx the approximate location. She knows the contingencies for if I hadn¡¯t come back.


    INTERVIEWER: Knowing that the most likely reason for anyone to take hostile action against one-six-seven-eight is his relationship with you?


    INTERVIEWEE: When you put it like that ¨C


    INTERVIEWER: How would you put it, then?


    INTERVIEWEE: It¡¯s unlikely they were expecting me to move that fast or aware of my personal capabilities.


    INTERVIEWER: Unlikely. You are a man given to planning for the most unlikely scenarios. The fact that you have those rings, that you¡¯ve set up those contingencies. Your actions could have led to your death or worse. And you¡¯re not in a position to be careless with your life. Would you like me to spell out the consequences?


    INTERVIEWEE: I know them.


    INTERVIEWER: You acted that way regardless.


    (There is a short period of silence.)


    INTERVIEWER: Are you aware of on how many counts you were in breach of protocol?


    INTERVIEWEE: Of course I am. I wrote the protocol. Section Seven, Subsection One: agents are not to act alone on missions with a high likelihood of ending in combat. Section Seven, Subsection Three: agents are not to be assigned to cases with which they are personally involved. Shall I continue?


    INTERVIEWER: Please do.


    INTERVIEWEE: Section Seven, Subsection One: agents are to make sure that the person currently in charge of operations is aware of their location and intentions at all times ¨C and I was not in charge of operations at that time, I handed over to Hobson when I left the office. Section Seven, Subsection Eight: a Birds team is to be present on any operation with the possibility of becoming a hostage situation. Am I forgetting anything?


    INTERVIEWER: Section Five, Subsection One: no agent in the ranks of senior command is to directly intervene in active fieldwork unless in exceptional circumstances.


    INTERVIEWEE: And I get to define exceptional circumstances, so no, that one doesn¡¯t count.


    INTERVIEWER: Were you anyone else, this would be enough to have you thrown out of the Service. If this report were ever filed where anyone else could read it, the scandal would ¨C


    INTERVIEWEE: I am taking the necessary steps to mitigate the consequences.


    INTERVIEWER: And if it had been a trap? If they had been ready, and waiting, with the resources to take you down? There is no mitigation for something like that, Minister.


    INTERVIEWEE: As satisfying as I¡¯m sure this self-deprecation is for both of us, I need to finish dealing with ¨C


    INTERVIEWER: You need to understand the implications of your actions tonight. Understand why you made the choices you did. And make sure that it never happens again. Continue your report.


    INTERVIEWEE: I identified the building in question without entering the potential range of wards acting on it, and was considering the best approach when it¡­ well. Ceased to exist.


    INTERVIEWER: Elaborate.


    INTERVIEWEE: It wasn¡¯t an explosion. No sound. As if the walls had been turned to dust and crumbled. No more warehouse, just like that. A few chunks of the roof survived and immediately fell, with no remaining support.


    INTERVIEWER: It was a magical effect, then?


    INTERVIEWEE: Clearly. No mundane means could have accomplished that. Few magical ones, too, but I take a primitive detection kit everywhere. It went off at the same time, the readings consistent with powerful spellwork cast by a Malaina.


    INTERVIEWER: Was there any other explanation for those readings?


    INTERVIEWEE: None that didn¡¯t involve malfunction of the equipment. And before you ask that is highly improbable. I keep it properly maintained.


    INTERVIEWER: So you knew you were dealing with a powerful Malaina that had just destroyed a building, and unknown but likely hostile forces. And you¡­


    INTERVIEWEE: ¡­charged straight in and investigated? Yes.


    INTERVIEWER: ¡­very well. The results of the investigation?


    INTERVIEWEE: Three unconscious people. One-six-seven-eight and two others, designated POIs two-three-one-six and two-three-one-seven. Both men, dressed in nondescript dark clothing, no visible injuries. Preliminary doctors¡¯ report suggest a magical effect which should be strictly temporary.


    INTERVIEWER: As a result of the Malaina spells cast?


    INTERVIEWEE: Most probably. There was also a fourth body, of the same description as two-three-one-six and two-three-one-seven. Half-buried under one of the pieces of roof. When I levitated it off, it was clear he was dead. There was a head wound, most likely due to the impact of the roof tiles.


    INTERVIEWER: Your analysis of the likely events?


    INTERVIEWEE: Two-three-one-six, two-three-one-seven and the dead man were holding one-six-seven-eight in the building against his will, to which he responded with a severe Malaina episode causing the destruction of the building and the condition of the three men.


    INTERVIEWER: One-six-seven-eight was not previously Malaina?


    INTERVIEWEE: No.


    INTERVIEWER: You are acquainted with the process of Falling, though, are you not?


    INTERVIEWEE: I am.


    INTERVIEWER: Then you will be aware that one-six-seven-eight likely experienced several incomplete episodes prior to these events?


    INTERVIEWEE: Yes.


    INTERVIEWER: You were not informed of these events?


    INTERVIEWEE: I was not.


    INTERVIEWER: Supposing that they did occur, why do you think this is?


    INTERVIEWEE: It is likely that I directly or indirectly contributed to the cause of those episodes. It was never my intention, but I know how I am often perceived.


    INTERVIEWER: And your actions after that point?


    INTERVIEWEE: I took the POIs to the Grey Hospital with instructions for their treatment and for two-three-one-six and two-three-one-seven to be detained in Intelligence custody. Informed the local police station of a magical event of unknown cause destroying the warehouse and the resulting fatality.


    INTERVIEWER: Unknown cause?


    INTERVIEWEE: You know what happens when fatalities are involved in Malaina cases.


    INTERVIEWER: It was justified in this case?


    INTERVIEWEE: Most likely, but I will not subject him to the legal battle that would ensue. Bad enough all the publicity he¡¯ll have to deal with.


    INTERVIEWER: So you are lying to the police, in addition to your other breaches of protocol. And none of this will be reported in the proper manner, will it?


    INTERVIEWEE: There are times when following protocol isn¡¯t the right thing to do.


    INTERVIEWER: And you, and only you, have the knowledge and intelligence to identify and act on them.


    INTERVIEWEE: That¡¯s not what I meant. Protocol exists to maintain order and good operational practices ¨C


    INTERVIEWER: Don¡¯t try to pretend that any of your actions described are examples of good operational practices.


    INTERVIEWEE: I¡¯m not pretending that.


    INTERVIEWER: I want to hear you say it.


    INTERVIEWEE: What?


    INTERVIEWER: The reason for your actions.


    INTERVIEWEE: Because it was my son. Because I love him. Because I want to protect him. Is that such a bad thing?


    INTERVIEWER: It is if it puts intelligence operations at risk. If it puts you at risk. If it puts everything you¡¯ve built at risk. If it puts your country at risk.


    INTERVIEWEE: The Question. The eternal Question.


    INTERVIEWER: Your duty and your loyalty to your country. Or your duty and your loyalty to your family. What is your answer?


    INTERVIEWEE: I don¡¯t have one. There is no answer.


    INTERVIEWER: No. You have an answer, and you showed what it was tonight. You just don¡¯t know whether it¡¯s the right one.


    Interview terminated at one and two.


    <hr>


    Isabelle counted eight and then tipped her hand, letting the greenish-brown powder fall into the cauldron. She stirred it smoothly, alternating clockwise and anticlockwise, until the colour of the mostly-liquid mixture began to darken. Sixteen more stirs, and then ¨C


    The dizziness struck suddenly: one moment everything was normal, and the next she barely knew which way was up. She lost her grip on the stirring-spoon and fell forward, gripping onto the edge of the cauldron for support, hard enough her fingers ached.


    She thought through the ingredients she¡¯d handled, wondering if any of them could cause these symptoms ¨C you never quite knew what to expect when experimenting, but there was nothing remotely toxic even in combination, no fumes that she could have inhaled.


    Strange. She¡¯d never been prone to illness. Nothing for it but to stay sprawled on the floor, clinging to her cauldron, until the world stopped spinning and she dared open her eyes.


    Then the weight fell into place in the back of her mind. The slight sensation fit perfectly, as if she had been missing it all her life and only just noticed. Maybe she had.


    She¡¯d dreamed of being a magician long enough that she knew what it meant. The Awakening of Rittome. Remarkably late, but here none the less. She was a magician. The dizziness was gone, but she didn¡¯t move, her mind darting through the implications. It would be difficult to get spellbooks or teaching here, but she was resourceful, she¡¯d make it work ¨C


    Oh. An old idea, one she¡¯d toyed with but never fully explored, because even if it worked she¡¯d never be able to implement it, but now she would. Now she had a chance. This was the opportunity she¡¯d been waiting for.


    Her smile lasted precisely until she realised that for the last minute or two she hadn¡¯t been stirring the mixture, and it had congealed. That was an hour¡¯s good work wasted.


    She didn¡¯t care that much.

 3. Awake

    Creak. Creak.


    I roll over and press my head into the pillow. If I don¡¯t acknowledge the noise, it¡¯ll go away, and then I can go back to sleep.


    Creak. Creak.


    It doesn¡¯t work like that. It¡¯s a rhythmic, repetitive creaking, moving past and away from me, but it isn¡¯t stopping. I roll back to my original, more comfortable position. Even without opening my eyes, I can tell it¡¯s light. Bright enough that it must be gone eight; I¡¯ll be late for school.


    That doesn¡¯t particularly worry me.


    Creak. Creak.


    There¡¯s a faint scent of soap in the air. The sound of footsteps. The pillow feels strange, now I think of it; I don¡¯t like mine fluffed too much but this one is as soft and fluffy as they come. And the duvet is thick enough I¡¯m a little warm.


    I can¡¯t summon the energy to be worried about any of this. I¡¯m not tired, exactly, but the darkness of sleep feels warm and inviting and close. I don¡¯t really want to be awake.


    Creak. Creak.


    It had stopped for a little while, long enough I thought it was gone, but now it¡¯s moving back towards me. It¡¯s not going to leave me alone, is it? I should wake up.


    It takes me a few attempts to open my eyes, and then I have to shut them again because the sudden light pains them. I want to hide under the covers where it¡¯s dark and safe.


    My eyes adjust quickly, though, and once they do it¡¯s not hard to tell where I am: a hospital ward. There are about fifteen beds, including mine, all of them occupied except possibly a couple hidden from view by curtains. It¡¯s sparse but clean. There¡¯s a window almost directly opposite my bed, through which sunlight streams.


    I turn my head to see the source of the creaking: a wooden trolley, made of material old enough to protest its use, pushed by a harried-looking young nurse.


    Then I hear a familiar sigh. It takes a little effort to turn myself over to see what¡¯s on the other side of my bed. A table and chair, ugly but functional. There¡¯s nothing on the table but a jug of water and a glass. In the chair sits my dad.


    He hasn¡¯t realised I¡¯m awake; he¡¯s leaning forwards, head in hands, staring into space. I can¡¯t remember seeing him look this tired and defeated before.


    ¡°Dad,¡± I say. My voice doesn¡¯t quite work the first time, so I have to repeat myself. It still comes out as a croaky rasp.


    He turns to look at me immediately, a rush of emotions flickering across his face before he settles into an expression of open calmness. ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says. His voice isn¡¯t as well-controlled as his face, and I hear a note of rawness. ¡°Are you ¨C ¡°


    Well, I imagine he meant to finish that question, or all right? But he can¡¯t, because it¡¯s a stupid question. Of course I¡¯m not all right.


    It hits me then: why I¡¯m here. What happened to me. What I did.


    ¡°Was anyone hurt?¡±


    ¡°Other than you? No. Just a girl¡¯s book and jacket burnt, and most of a tree. Magicians arrived and put the flames out within a few minutes.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I say. It still doesn¡¯t quite feel real. I remember some of it, I think, as though it were a dream. The flames dancing along the branches of the oak tree, the way the leaves turned black and crumbled and the specks of ash fell from the sky and landed on my uniform.


    ¡°As for you, only a few minor burns. Nothing that won¡¯t fix itself within a few weeks.¡±


    I choke out a hoarse, bitter laugh. This isn¡¯t going to fix itself, not within a few weeks or ever. I¡¯ve Fallen. I¡¯m Malaina, now: a magician forever one step away from being a monster.


    ¡°Would you like some water?¡± he asks.


    He doesn¡¯t know how to deal with this any more than I do, I realise.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, ¡°please.¡±


    He pours me a glass. I push myself up and lean back against the headboard, wincing at a dull stab of pain from my left hand, and take it from him.


    I sip in silence for a while. Something is messing with my mind. I should be horrified at what I did, or devastated for what I¡¯ve lost, or terrified about my future and whether I even have one. Instead I just feel¡­ numb.


    Is this normal for Malaina? I suddenly realise how little I know. Magic born of trauma, magic that feeds on the magician¡¯s fear and anger and when those emotions are too strong takes destructive action of its own. Magic that can consume the magician completely and turn them into the monsters known as mala sia.


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    That¡¯s about the sum total of my knowledge about the power I now possess ¨C or the power that possesses me. Well, I know a little about researching things. ¡°Could you get me books?¡± I ask. ¡°About¡­¡± I hesitate: saying it makes it real. I¡¯m being silly, of course. It¡¯s already real, whether I want it to be or not. ¡°Malaina.¡±


    My dad smiles without any real warmth. ¡°I knew you¡¯d ask that. I¡¯ve already been to the Crelt public library.¡±


    Crelt is the city where my dad works, its centre about forty minutes¡¯ walk from home. I watch my dad expectantly, but he makes no move to produce a stack of books.


    ¡°And?¡± I ask after a few seconds.


    ¡°The books you¡¯re looking for don¡¯t exist, Tallulah. Most of what I found was magical theory. A few memoirs ¨C one of time working on the mala sia taskforce, and one of a doctor in one of the asylums. I skimmed that one but it¡¯s really not what you¡¯re looking for.¡±


    ¡°Nothing about¡­ what it¡¯s like? To live with it?¡±


    He shakes his head.


    No books. I guess a thick volume entitled So You¡¯ve Fallen; Now What? and setting out in detail the answer to that question was too much to hope for, but you¡¯d think there¡¯d at least be something.


    ¡°Tallulah¡­ why?¡±


    I don¡¯t need to ask why what. We¡¯re done dancing around reality, then. I drain the last of my water and set the glass down on the table beside me, a little harder than necessary. My dad jumps, and then tries very hard to look like he wasn¡¯t startled.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just¡­ I couldn¡¯t go on like I was any longer.¡±


    ¡°Were the other students ¨C were you bullied?¡±


    ¡°No.¡± Nothing so obvious.


    ¡°One of the teachers ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No!¡± I repeat more firmly.


    ¡°Okay,¡± he says, raising his hands in surrender. ¡°Okay. Then what?¡±


    I know how Malaina usually works. I¡¯m supposed to have a story of how I¡¯ve been relentlessly bullied and abused and generally mistreated for years until I finally snapped and fought back. Instead I have a story of how I forgot to hand in homework and was asked for help by a girl who should have known the answers herself.


    ¡°Really. I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t understand it.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± He doesn¡¯t believe me. There¡¯s the note of scepticism in his voice, but he¡¯s not questioning me further. ¡°If you want to talk about it, I¡¯m here.¡±


    Oh, now you¡¯re here? Now it¡¯s too late? I silence the bitter voice in the back of my mind. It¡¯s not because of him I¡¯m here. ¡°Thanks,¡± I force myself to say. ¡°And Mum?¡±


    His face turns grim. ¡°She¡­ won¡¯t be visiting you here.¡±


    I imagine her reaction when she heard what had happened. Mrs Roberts, it appears your daughter has taken up arson and developed destructive magic. ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°She was rather concerned ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I insist.


    He flinches away from me. ¡°All right,¡± he says. ¡°You won¡¯t like it.¡±


    ¡°Tell me,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°She insisted to anyone who would listen and several people who wouldn¡¯t that the reports of the event were false, that the girl who witnessed it was lying for attention and the fire was an accident ¨C ¡°


    I grimace. Chloe and Ruby¡¯s father is one of the richest merchants in the country; he won¡¯t have taken kindly to having his daughter accused of lying for attention. My dad nods. ¡°It was as much as I could do to avoid legal trouble. Once she finally got it into her head that it wasn¡¯t a lie, she called you several unpleasant things ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What?¡±


    He¡¯s quiet for a second.


    ¡°I need to know.¡±


    ¡°A deceitful, ungrateful brat who didn¡¯t know opportunity when it was handed to her on a silver platter, and no daughter of hers.¡±


    Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn¡¯t need to hear that. His words pierce through the numbness and assault my mind. Words, so the saying goes, have as much power over you as you grant them.


    If that¡¯s the case, I have granted these words the power to do a great deal of hurt.


    ¡°She¡¯ll come round,¡± my dad continues quickly. ¡°It¡¯s just the shock of it all. She still loves you.¡±


    He¡¯s just telling me what I want to hear. I want the truth, however much it hurts, whatever it does to me.


    Then I understand why he¡¯s doing that, why he¡¯s been flinching every time I raise my voice or he tells me something bad.


    He¡¯s afraid of Malaina. He¡¯s afraid of what I could do.


    Sacred stars, my own father is afraid of me.


    The only thing worse than that understanding is the fact I don¡¯t even know if he¡¯s wrong to be afraid.


    ¡°The hospital staff asked me something when I came here,¡± he says after a short silence. ¡°They said that¡­ normally Malaina doesn¡¯t happen just like that.¡± He snaps his fingers. ¡°It¡¯s a gradual process. There¡¯s warning. You know it¡¯s coming.¡±


    I nod. ¡°Three times, since end-of-year-exams. But I didn¡¯t realise at first what it was. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯m the sort of person who would¡­¡± I let the sentence trail off; it¡¯s preferable to finishing it.


    ¡°But you knew before it happened?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Since yester ¨C ¡° I stop as I realise something I should have thought about a lot earlier. ¡°What day is it?¡±


    ¡°Fourth of the Hunter¡¯s Moon. About ten and twenty. There¡¯s a clock in the hospital¡¯s reception, if you want a more precise answer.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°No. That¡¯s fine.¡± I¡¯ve slept for nearly a whole day. It¡¯s silly after everything that¡¯s happened, but losing a day is jarring. ¡°I¡¯ve known since the second, then.¡±


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t tell me?¡±


    ¡°You weren¡¯t there to tell,¡± I say with a sudden flash of anger. The strange numbness must be beginning to fade now.


    He flinches back again, but it¡¯s different this time. It¡¯s not fear of me, it¡¯s that my words have struck him.


    ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to snap.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologise. I¡¯ve failed as a father if I couldn¡¯t notice what was happening to my own daughter.¡±


    ¡°Even I didn¡¯t notice,¡± I reply. ¡°It¡¯s not your fault.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Maybe not. But if I had been there when you needed me¡­ couldn¡¯t we have worked something out together? Couldn¡¯t we have prevented this?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I don¡¯t think it works like that. Once you¡¯re having the initial¡­¡± I struggle to find the right word, ¡°episodes, it¡¯s got its claws into you. You¡¯re going to Fall, sooner or later.¡±


    I don¡¯t know how it really works, but I¡¯m fairly sure what I just said is a blatant lie.


    My dad isn¡¯t the only one who can tell someone what they want to hear, instead of what¡¯s true.


    ¡°Regardless,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I hope I can make it up to you somehow.¡±


    ¡°I hope so too.¡± But it¡¯s not his words that I hear, it¡¯s what he doesn¡¯t say. I hope I can be a better father. I hope I can look after you.


    ¡°There¡¯s a woman,¡± he says, ¡°who wants to talk to you.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡±


    ¡°Says she¡¯s from a magic school, and she knows some things about Malaina. Wouldn¡¯t tell me anything else, wants to talk to you directly first. If you¡¯re up to it?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I am ¨C I¡¯m not sure I ever will be ¨C but talking to someone who might actually be able to answer my questions sounds an awful lot better than being left alone with them eating away at my mind. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll fetch her, then.¡± He stands smoothly. ¡°Just ¨C she¡¯s a bit ¨C ¡° He pauses, searching for words, long enough that I ask ¡°A bit what?¡±


    ¡°Eccentric? I¡¯m not sure that fits. You¡¯ll see.¡±

 4. Electra

    I see what my dad means as soon as he returns with the woman he mentioned. She¡¯s short, barely coming up to his shoulders ¨C and he¡¯s by no means a giant ¨C and her skin is so pale I have to wonder if she¡¯s ever seen the sunlight. I''d guess she''s in her forties, though I''ve never had a talent for guessing ages. She¡¯s dressed in all black except the lacing on her robes, which is a silvery grey, and her bright red lipstick. The smile playing across her face says she knows exactly the impression she creates, and enjoys it.


    ¡°Miss Roberts?¡± she says, giving me a look that makes me all too aware of the fact I haven¡¯t cleaned myself up in over a day. My hair must be in a frightful state by now.


    ¡°That¡¯s me.¡±


    She sits down in the chair vacated by my dad, leaving him hovering awkwardly until she says ¡°I find it¡¯s usually best to have these conversations with the magician alone.¡±


    My dad keeps his reaction to a glance at me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say, trying to convince myself as much as him.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll just take a stroll, shall I?¡± I recognise the faint edge of sarcasm in his tone as he turns and walks slowly away.


    ¡°You¡¯ve had these sorts of conversations before?¡± I ask once he¡¯s gone. I find that reassuring. I think it¡¯s just knowing that there have been other Malaina before me. That I¡¯m not the only person to have dealt with this. I wonder how many of them have become mala sia.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She has an accent different to the wealthy students I¡¯m used to: vowels longer, more drawn out. Northern, I realise immediately, but it takes me a few seconds to place it as Ryk, the capital city, hundreds of miles from here. Wherever ¡°here¡± is; I presume the hospital is in Crelt itself rather than further out in the suburbs.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°You can call me Electra. I can answer some of your questions.¡±


    I have to fight not to visibly scoff. No-one sensible calls their child Electra, not with the myth attached to that name. There¡¯s a good reason many scholars have used it as a byword for revenge in its most destructive form.


    It suits her image, though. In fact she looks remarkably similar to my mental image of the mythical Electra.


    But whatever image she¡¯s trying to put on, she claims she has answers. And I need them. I take a moment to order my thoughts, then give up and ask the first thing that pops into my mind. ¡°The numbness,¡± I say.


    ¡°The emotional damping?¡±


    So there is a more technical term. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Normal. Insofar as there is a normal for Malaina. It¡¯s a kind of inbuilt coping mechanism. Feeling the full force of the shock and horror that would otherwise often follow active episodes would most likely trigger another episode immediately.¡±


    ¡°Active episodes?¡±


    ¡°Incidents of uncontrolled magic such as the one you recently experienced.¡±


    ¡°How¡­ often do they happen?¡±


    ¡°That isn¡¯t something you can predict. It depends completely on the individual magician. Generally at moments of either physical danger or emotional strain. Though it can become more regular if you¡¯re permanently living with those situations, and it tends to be self-reinforcing.¡±


    ¡°But I wasn¡¯t ¨C ¡° I can¡¯t force the words out.


    Electra stares at me silently, waiting.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t ¨C there was no danger or emotional strain. It was ¨C I was helping a girl with her homework!¡±


    ¡°The knowledge of what is happening to you can itself be a cause. Often when people Fall it¡¯s just a small incident that tips them over the edge. Tell me about it.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If I¡¯m going to help you, I first need to understand what led you here.¡±


    There are a lot of things I want to say to that. I don¡¯t know who you are, I don¡¯t know what kind of help you¡¯re proposing to give.


    Something in the way she looks at me, though, says that she isn¡¯t going to take no for an answer. And right now I don¡¯t have the strength to fight her.


    ¡°I promised I¡¯d help her with Sirgalese irregular verbs and then forgot about it until she appeared during break. She showed me the work and said she didn¡¯t know what to do, and then ¨C then that was it.¡±


    ¡°What did you think, immediately before?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ it was basic work. She would have understood it on her own if she¡¯d paid attention in class. Not something I should have had to explain.¡±


    ¡°Would you say you¡¯re unusually intolerant of stupidity or laziness?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C what? She ¨C ¡° I want to say wasn¡¯t stupid or lazy, but that¡¯s not what I really think. I just would never say it aloud the way Electra just did. ¡°No. No, I don¡¯t think so.¡±


    ¡°You knew this girl?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Not well. She¡¯s the younger sister of ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You resented her?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C no ¨C ¡°


    Electra raises her eyebrows slightly. ¡°You¡¯re a scholarship girl, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I don¡¯t see what that has to do with ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And Elizabeth Waterford ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Genford,¡± I correct out of habit. My school¡¯s full name is The General Elizabeth Waterford School for Gifted Young Ladies, but that¡¯s too much of a mouthful to be used for anything other than official purposes.


    ¡°Genford, then. It demands a certain level of academic achievement from its scholarship students to continue receiving that scholarship?¡±


    Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ¡°Yes.¡± That might have lost me a few hours¡¯ sleep during exam seasons, since there¡¯s not a chance my parents could afford the full fees, but it¡¯s hardly enough to lead to Malaina.


    ¡°So if you had exhibited similar stupidity and laziness in her position, you wouldn¡¯t still be a student there.¡±


    ¡°Am I? Still a student there? I can¡¯t imagine they¡¯re eager to take me back after¡­¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ll get to that later. Is my theory accurate?¡±


    What theory, I almost ask, but then I figure it out. She¡¯s saying I resent the fact that Ruby can afford to not pay attention in class and ask me to help her with things she should already know, because her parents will keep paying her fees regardless of how well she does in exams.


    I would never have thought of it that way before, but it makes a concerning amount of sense. Not the fact she has rich parents ¨C not directly ¨C but the security that gives her. The belonging.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agree. ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    Electra smiles a little and says nothing. The silence extends until it becomes awkward.


    ¡°Sleeping for a day,¡± I ask finally. ¡°That¡¯s normal too?¡±


    ¡°The time period varies, but yes. Active episodes draw deeply on your magic, and sleep is one of few reliable ways to speed up recovery from that.¡±


    I file that away for later. I¡¯ve never learnt any magical theory; it¡¯s not an elective Genford offers, or something I¡¯ve been interested in researching myself. I never thought it would be relevant to me.


    I resented Ruby¡¯s security and belonging. Why? Because I never felt like I belonged at Genford. I¡¯m the only black girl in my class. There¡¯s maybe a dozen scholarship students in my year, and half of those could afford the full fees anyway. My classmates are friendly enough, but they make it quite clear that I¡¯m not one of them.


    I¡¯m not even sure I want to be one of them.


    I¡¯m at Genford to get the best education Rasin has to offer, to make connections with influential and powerful people, and to get the best start possible to follow in my dad¡¯s footsteps as a lawyer.


    That¡¯s what I want. Or it¡¯s what I¡¯ve told myself I wanted for the last three years, anyway.


    I suddenly feel as if I¡¯ve been lying to myself all that time.


    Electra is watching me and smiling to herself. ¡°You asked earlier,¡± she says finally, ¡°whether you are still a student at Genford.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to know more about ¨C ¡°


    She shrugs. ¡°I will do. But you need a little time to understand yourself better, I think. The answer to your question is yes, technically, but only until bureaucracy catches up with reality. Genford, like many other institutions, does not admit Malaina. You needn¡¯t worry about the property damage, at least: you¡¯re not legally held responsible for anything short of major injury in an initial Malaina episode.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good,¡± I say, ¡°but¡­ I need to get my Certificate of Education, at the very least.¡± The Certificate of Education is a document declaring that its holder has attended school up until the age of sixteen and passed all of their exams; without one it¡¯s nearly impossible to get a job anywhere. ¡°Are there schools that do admit Malaina?¡±


    ¡°What you need first,¡± replies Electra, ¡°is a magical education.¡±


    That¡¯s right; my dad mentioned she worked for a magical school. So she¡¯s trying to recruit me as a student, then. That doesn¡¯t seem too bad a thing.


    ¡°Quite apart from the legal requirement for all magicians to be trained, and the fact that untaught Malaina typically find controlling their power more difficult¡­ I guarantee you that you won¡¯t have any difficulty making a living as a qualified magician, regardless of your more conventional qualifications.¡±


    I make a mental note to ask my dad about the legal requirements in question. There are probably a lot of laws and regulations that now apply to me, and I should know what they are as soon as I can. ¡°My dad says you work for a magical school.¡±


    ¡°The magical school,¡± she corrects. ¡°That is, the best in Rasin. By any objective measure.¡±


    ¡°How many magical schools are there in Rasin?¡± I ask. One thing you do learn from being a lawyer¡¯s daughter and preparing to follow him into the profession is a healthy scepticism.


    ¡°Eight. But four of those don¡¯t accept Malaina, and two of those that do are run by dukes who place an obligation of five years¡¯ service to them on all graduates ¨C yes, that practice is legal for magic, though in my opinion it shouldn¡¯t be.¡±


    I would rather not serve a duke for five years. ¡°And there are two others. One of them is yours, presumably, and the other¡­¡±


    ¡°Was only established a couple of years ago. By people who have the most excellent intentions, but will inevitably see their endeavours in ruins within a decade.¡±


    Something in her tone doesn¡¯t invite further questions on that topic, so I keep them to myself and ask instead ¡°Can¡¯t you learn magic through an apprenticeship?¡±


    She nods. ¡°I can¡¯t recommend it. You¡¯ll inevitably find yourself learning a lot about whichever area of magic your master specialises in and not enough about other areas. And there are very few Malaina I¡¯d trust with the sole teaching of an impressionable young girl.¡±


    She pauses for just long enough to let my heart sink before continuing ¡°I should add I wouldn¡¯t trust myself with that, either. Not that I¡¯m Malaina. And¡­ if you remember nothing else about what I¡¯ve told you, remember this: the majority of Malaina go on to live as normal lives as any other magician, and I see no reason why you cannot.¡±


    I feel a faint flicker of hope for the first time since¡­ well. ¡°Tell me about your school,¡± I say, and then add hastily ¡°please.¡±


    Her lips twitch in what might be supressed amusement. ¡°It¡¯s not mine, to begin with. It¡¯s the King¡¯s. The Royal Academy of Magical Arts, in Ryk.¡±


    I grimace. ¡°Does he want my service for five years, as well?¡±


    Electra shakes her head. ¡°No. And you might be pleased to know it¡¯s paid for out of the royal treasury, as well.¡±


    That was the other thing I was worried about: money. If my parents can¡¯t afford Genford, they don¡¯t have a chance with a royal school of magic ¨C and that¡¯s even supposing my mother can be persuaded to pay for me. But this¡­ it seems perfect. Too good to be true, in fact.


    ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    She holds her palms out flat to me, showing that she¡¯s not hiding anything in her hands. ¡°No catch.¡±


    My disbelief must show on my face.


    ¡°Think about it. One: all the old Siaril families send their children there unless they¡¯re openly quarrelling with the throne, and none of them will stand for sub-quality teaching or their children being ill-used.¡±


    Siaril is one of the Schools of Magic. It¡¯s inherited by blood, and perhaps unsurprisingly a lot of the families that possess it are among the most powerful in the kingdom. It¡¯s taken a lot of political manoeuvring, legal restrictions and a civil war to prevent them taking over the kingdom entirely.


    That is slightly reassuring. But just because the children of powerful families aren¡¯t ill-used doesn¡¯t mean others aren¡¯t.


    ¡°Two: about half of the magicians in Rasin are Academy graduates. That¡¯s a lot of people with a lot of magical power, and even without a contract having them well-disposed towards the throne is worth a lot of money to the King. Three, it¡¯s good publicity to run the Academy as a charitable foundation. It is definitely a worthwhile investment for His Majesty, no catch required.¡±


    That¡¯s a persuasive argument. Reminds me of history classes, in a way: analysing the motivation of this king or that lord in taking this or that course of action. Just with a King who hasn¡¯t been dead for several centuries.


    Also not what I¡¯d expect of a¡­ whatever Electra is. Magician probably, Malaina expert certainly, connected to this Academy¡­ ¡°If you don¡¯t mind me asking, what do you do?¡±


    ¡°I oversee all of the Malaina students at the Academy. Managing their classes to minimise the chances of provoking active episodes, and dealing with the consequences if they do occur. If you choose to study there, I¡¯ll be teaching you Countering Magical Effects, though I¡¯m not its usual teacher. She¡¯s having a baby.¡±


    ¡°What do you usually teach?¡±


    ¡°Magical Combat.¡±


    That surprises me, I have to admit: she doesn¡¯t look like a fighter, not at all.


    She catches the surprise on my face. ¡°I am considerably more dangerous than I look.¡± She shifts from her casual sprawl to perch neatly on the end of the chair. ¡°I have other duties, if you¡¯ll excuse me. I¡¯m sure I¡¯ve given you plenty to think about ¨C ¡° she reaches into her robes and pulls out a few sheets of parchment, which she sets down on the table. ¡°The details of each school which accepts Malaina, and a list of all Malaina currently willing to take apprentices.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Electra stands. ¡°You will need to make a decision quickly, though. If you¡¯re to attend the Academy, I¡¯ll want you to start classes tomorrow, which unless you very much enjoy early mornings will involve leaving today. I¡¯ll return at about three after noon; have a decision made by then.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I repeat, though it feels inadequate for everything she¡¯s done in this one conversation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t thank me,¡± she replies, ¡°I¡¯m just doing my job.¡± And she turns and walks away, without looking back.


    It takes me a few seconds to notice something strange in her gait: she favours her right leg a little. I wouldn¡¯t have expected a magician to limp.

 5. Interlude: Isabelle

    It was quite simple to enchant glass so that, while light could pass through it, there was no way of seeing through it to the other side. And it wasn¡¯t much harder to project illusions that would provide pleasing though false views to anyone who tried. Anyone rich or well-connected enough to hire the services of a magician could have it done without difficulty.


    That meant that when you travelled alone in a carriage without windows, with only a dim enchanted light source to see by, it wasn¡¯t just for security. It was designed to intimidate the traveller.


    Beth hadn¡¯t had occasion to think about things like that until now, but she was most certainly intimidated. She didn¡¯t know how long it had been since she¡¯d left her home behind. An hour? Two? Long enough that her legs were beginning to feel stiff, anyway. She tried stretching, dragging her feet back and forth along the floor of the carriage. It eased the pain a little, but did nothing for her growing unease.


    She hadn¡¯t done anything wrong. She¡¯d always been a good girl. Maybe a bit odd, people sometimes whispered when they thought she couldn¡¯t hear, but never any trouble. Never even friends with anyone who was any trouble, dragged into it by association.


    Besides, there was a big difference between ordinary trouble and being driven away in a carriage without windows. This was normal, she told herself, it was exactly what it was supposed to be. She was going to a secure facility at an unknown location, of course there would be high security on the journey.


    She undid the clasps on her trunk, thanking the stars that at least the ride was a smooth one, and found her alchemy kit close to the surface. She didn¡¯t need it: where she was going they¡¯d have far better equipment than anything she¡¯d ever used. But this was hers. One of the few things she owned that really mattered to her. The only one she¡¯d shown a shred of talent in using.


    It also happened to contain a small, sharp knife, and it was that she took from it and gripped tightly in her hand, blade still wrapped in brownish cloth to stop it touching any of the vials. Her fingers were nimble enough that she was able to reseal the kit and then the trunk one-handed without difficulty.


    Beth knew she was being silly. She¡¯d never once used this knife as a weapon; her magic would be far more useful in any kind of fight, even though she only knew a couple of spells for self-defence. Realistically, it wouldn¡¯t make a shred of difference.


    But she felt a little better with its weight in her hand.


    It couldn¡¯t have been more than a couple of minutes later that the incessant clip-clopping of the horses finally fell silent and the gentle rocking motion of the carriage ceased. Well, thought Beth grimly, here they were.


    The door was opened a minute later by the same young man who¡¯d been driving her. He couldn¡¯t have been more than twenty; he¡¯d tried flirting with Beth when she¡¯d got in, but swiftly given up on seeing how resolutely uninterested she was.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your trunk,¡± was all he said now, and she handed it down to him.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said, her expression making it clear that she was saying it out of politeness rather than any particular gratitude. It occurred to her that if there wasn¡¯t anything wrong, it was a bad idea to walk into this place openly carrying a knife. She slipped it into the pocket of her skirt and stepped out, ignoring the driver¡¯s offer of a helping hand down.


    Once she¡¯d adjusted to the light, she took a second to take in her surroundings. She stood in a featureless plain, the road they¡¯d come on the only thing in sight in three directions other than an endless expanse of freshly ploughed fields. The sun had come out during the journey and was directly overhead now; it had to be close to noon.


    ¡°Come on,¡± said her driver, still holding her trunk as if the weight nearly too much for her to lift didn¡¯t bother him, ¡°we don¡¯t have all day.¡±


    Beth nodded sharply and turned towards the fourth direction. The compound was a large one, its sturdy-looking fences stretching out as far as she could see. The buildings inside seemed to be mostly solid but old-looking, paint peeling away from their walls in places; redecoration wasn¡¯t the biggest priority here, it seemed.


    The way in was normally barred by a heavy iron gate a few paces in front of her, but it hung open now. Four soldiers stood at attention in a line just inside, and a fifth man off to the side, watching her with mild interest.


    It was too late to turn back now. She fixed her eyes on a patch of air just behind the soldiers and walked forward through the gate.


    The soldiers made no move to acknowledge her, so she was forced to stop after only a few steps. She opened her mouth to speak but found she didn¡¯t quite know what to say.


    ¡°This is her,¡± her driver said, filling the brief silence. ¡°And here¡¯s her things.¡± He set Beth¡¯s trunk down on the gravel track beside her, saluted the fifth soldier and marched back to the carriage.


    Beth didn¡¯t even know his name, and she certainly didn¡¯t like him, but she still felt a little bereft as he climbed back into the driver¡¯s perch, leaving her alone with the soldiers.


    ¡°Allain, Renard,¡± barked the fifth soldier. ¡°Close the gate. Marchant, take her trunk and come with me. Darche, return to your post.¡±


    The four soldiers saluted as one and set about obeying their orders. Marchant and his superior set off down the path, the former carrying Beth¡¯s trunk just as easily as the driver had. None of them bothered to acknowledge her, but she assumed that she was meant to follow and did so.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°You do not leave the building unless instructed to by an officer,¡± the officer said without turning to look at Beth. ¡°You obey the instructions of your master unless they are overruled by an officer or administration worker. You do not fraternise with the soldiers or any other residents of this complex. Is that clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Beth, trying to work out how she felt about this. It seemed as if she wasn¡¯t in trouble, and this was what she¡¯d been told, but the way they didn¡¯t even speak to her...


    ¡°Yes what?¡±


    ¡°Yes¡­ sir?¡± Beth guessed, deciding it was best not to point out that she wasn¡¯t a soldier or in his chain of command.


    That evidently satisfied him, or at least he returned to ignoring her until he abruptly turned left to approach a building that seemed just like any of the others, except perhaps a little larger; a small sign next to it proclaimed it was Building 12A, Not to be Entered Without Specific Authorisation.


    Its door was bare but thick-looking wood, without a handle. The officer rapped on it and then stepped back a single step.


    There was no response. After a while he knocked a second time. He was about to try a third when the door opened.


    ¡°Captain Morel,¡± said the girl who¡¯d opened it. She looked about eighteen, barely older than Beth and half a head shorter; her long blonde hair was tied firmly back, and she wore trousers and a battered and stained white blouse. ¡°Marchant. What have I done to deserve the honour of an unexpected visit?¡±


    Unexpected?


    ¡°Isabelle,¡± replied Captain Morel, ¡°may I introduce your apprentice, Bethany Quint?¡±


    This girl ¨C Isabelle ¨C was the alchemist? Her master? It took years of study to become a Master of Alchemy, there was no way she was old enough.


    Beth¡¯s expression of pure, naked shock was mirrored by Isabelle. ¡°Apprentice,¡± she repeated, and then collected herself. ¡°Yes. Thank you for escorting her here. Those are her things, Marchant? Take them inside and set them down in the living quarters, would you?¡±


    Marchant didn¡¯t move, his eyes flickering to Morel.


    ¡°Do it,¡± the other soldier ordered. ¡°And only that.¡±


    Isabelle stepped aside to allow him to pass, carrying Beth¡¯s trunk. ¡°How¡¯s your cold, Captain?¡± she asked. ¡°Better?¡±


    For the first time something flickered across Morel¡¯s features. ¡°Yes,¡± he said gruffly. ¡°But ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it.¡±


    ¡°The evening air has done it a world of good.¡±


    ¡°So if you happen to get ill again, you know what to do.¡±


    Morel stared at Isabelle for a long moment before nodding. Before the silence became awkward, Marchant stepped back out, now without the trunk. He brushed past Isabelle and stood at attention beside his captain.


    ¡°Everything is in order, then?¡± Isabelle asked.


    ¡°It would appear so,¡± Morel replied.


    ¡°Would you care for a drink?¡±


    ¡°Isabelle, you know quite well that¡¯s a breach of regulations.¡±


    She nodded, unabashed. ¡°I don¡¯t think it could do any harm.¡±


    Morel stared at her for a long moment. ¡°We must return to our duties. Come, Marchant.¡±


    The two soldiers marched away without another word.


    ¡°Give it a couple of weeks,¡± said Isabelle once they were out of earshot, watching them go. ¡°Now, come in! We have a lot to do.¡±


    Well, she seemed friendly enough, even if she was too young to be a Master of Alchemy. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like Beth had a better idea. She followed Isabelle inside.


    The building was in just as much need of redecoration inside as out. They stepped into a small square room painted an ugly pale brown, with four doors coming off it including the one they¡¯d entered through, one set into each wall. Isabelle took Beth¡¯s arm and steered her through the door on the left.


    This room was little different from the first, except that there were only two doors and it contained three aging armchairs and a low table, with Beth¡¯s trunk lying beside it.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± Isabelle said. Beth let herself sink into the nearest armchair, while Isabelle slipped off her shoes and stood on the table, facing her.


    ¡°Sorry for asking, but¡­¡± Beth began.


    ¡°Don¡¯t apologise for asking questions. Unless they¡¯re really stupid ones.¡± Isabelle smiled reassuringly.


    ¡°Aren¡¯t you¡­ a bit young to be a Master of Alchemy?¡±


    Isabelle laughed, not unkindly. ¡°I was mostly brought up by my grandfather, who was an alchemist himself. I practically grew up in his lab, so you could say I had an early start. Now! Tell me how you ended up here.¡±


    This wasn¡¯t an interview, Beth told herself firmly. She already had the job. ¡°I knew as soon as I graduated from the School of Sirgalese Magic that I wanted to be an alchemist. But the Alchemists¡¯ Guild doesn¡¯t exactly publish its address, so I didn¡¯t know how to go about getting an apprenticeship.¡±


    ¡°So¡­¡± Isabelle prompted, tapping a bare foot against the wood of the table.


    ¡°So I wrote to the Guild Relations Department.¡±


    ¡°And they offered you this job?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡± She tapped her foot again. ¡°You¡¯re a magician? Which School?¡±


    ¡°Siaril,¡± said Beth, internally sighing, ¡°and before you ask what family, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m adopted; never knew my biological family.¡±


    ¡°Have you tried to find out?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C no. My parents ¨C they¡¯re my family now, regardless of who gave birth to me.¡±


    ¡°I can understand that,¡± Isabelle said. She sprang down from the table and tugged her shoes back on. ¡°Right, that¡¯s introductions taken care of. Let¡¯s get to it.¡±


    Beth just wanted to sit down and think in peace, but it seemed that wasn¡¯t going to happen just yet. She climbed to her feet and followed Isabelle back into the previous room, where she opened the door opposite the entrance and stepped through.


    Beth stopped and blinked a few times. This was the alchemy lab, then. It was quite something: three times the size of the only one she¡¯d used before (and that she¡¯d shared with a dozen other students), every table gleaming metal. Three cauldrons of differing metals sat against the opposite wall, and both the adjacent walls were lined from top to bottom with shelves on which sat jars and bottles and tins of every alchemical substance Beth knew and more than twice that amount she didn¡¯t, test tubes of every size and shape, knives and stirring spoons and mortars, glasses moulded into strange shapes¡­ in short, anything you could possibly imagine using to practice alchemy.


    Isabelle grinned. ¡°Not bad, is it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Beth agreed. ¡°Not bad.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not familiar with the alchemy curriculum at the Sirgalese School,¡± Isabelle said. ¡°A year¡¯s study?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Any original work?¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­ experimenting? Doing things without an established recipe?¡±


    ¡°That is the essence of alchemy, is it not?¡±


    ¡°No. It wasn¡¯t on the curriculum.¡±


    ¡°Did you do any regardless?¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t allowed.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of ¨C ¡° Beth stopped as her mind caught up with her mouth. This wasn¡¯t just a hypothetical sometime in the future Isabelle was talking about. It was right here, right now.


    She couldn¡¯t remember the first thing she¡¯d learnt.


    ¡°Excellent. Three rules. One: if you don¡¯t understand what it does, don¡¯t touch it. Two: no taking shortcuts with safety, even if you don¡¯t think you need the precautions. Three: if I tell you to stop, you stop.¡± Isabelle leaned back against a table and pushed herself up until she was sitting on it, legs dangling over the edge.


    ¡°But I ¨C can¡¯t I have some time to settle in or something?¡± She knew the moment she had spoken that she wasn¡¯t going to like the answer.


    Isabelle smiled sweetly. ¡°You want to be a Master? Then show me what you can do.¡±

 6. Travel

    The next few hours pass quickly, which is a relief; it means I can let myself be swept up by the events happening around me instead of having too much time to think. After paging through the papers Electra left, my dad and I decide that despite her probable bias the Royal Academy is likely the best option.


    She¡¯s also left a list of the classes it offers: Spells, Enchantments, Transformations and Conjurations, Alchemy, Basic Magical Theory, Magical Law and Culture, Astronomy¡­ those are just the compulsory classes needed to qualify as a magician. You don¡¯t get to take any electives or more advanced classes before qualifying, but they do offer a partnership with a mundane school in Ryk that lets you take the Certificate of Education in the same year.


    ¡°It¡¯s academically intense,¡± my dad says. ¡°Not recommended for those unused to intense workloads.¡±


    ¡°I am used to intense workloads,¡± I inform him. ¡°And besides I¡¯ll only take the minimum six subjects. Rasina Language and Literature, Mathematics, Sirgalese, Biology and History.¡±


    ¡°Not Law?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° I hadn¡¯t considered it for a second; there¡¯s only one subject that can be chosen freely in the Certificate of Education¡¯s minimum six and I couldn¡¯t imagine not taking History. ¡°I could manage seven ¨C or specialise in magical law, I¡¯m sure the Academy¡¯s Law and Culture course would count for something if that¡¯s ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah. It¡¯s okay. You don¡¯t ¨C it¡¯s not ¨C something like this would change anyone¡¯s career plans. Simon¡¯s eldest is going into the profession, anyway, Roberts and Bryant will survive into the next generation regardless of what you end up doing.¡±


    Simon Bryant is my dad¡¯s business partner. I¡¯ve met him a few times; he¡¯s a loud and cheerful man, always whistling a tune as he walks. Quite the contrast to my dad, who¡¯s quiet and professional. I¡¯ve often wondered how they manage to work together.


    ¡°I know, but I don¡¯t want to ¨C ¡° disappoint you or Mother, I¡¯m about to say, and then I realise it hardly matters. I¡¯ve already disappointed them more than not becoming a lawyer ever would.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Just focus on becoming a ¨C a magician.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try.¡±


    I¡¯m discharged from hospital a short while later, having been reassured that my burns will heal in time as long as I get plenty of rest and that there shouldn¡¯t be any further side effects of the episode. I have to choke back a bitter laugh at that last point. My dad leaves instructions with the receptionist to pass our address onto Electra when she arrives, if she doesn¡¯t already know it.


    I was a little nervous about how my tired and burnt body would fare on the walk home, but it¡¯s actually quite refreshing to move my limbs and feel the warmth of the sun. The weather is disconcertingly bright; it doesn¡¯t suit my dull grey mood at all.


    It takes me until we¡¯re only a few streets away to ask the question that¡¯s been bothering me for the whole walk: ¡°Is Mother¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s at work,¡± Dad replies.


    Mother is the secretary of a rich merchant. Thankfully his oldest daughter is only eight, because if she were five years older she¡¯d probably be attending Genford. And that I would rather not have to deal with.


    I won¡¯t have to deal with any of it any more, I remind myself. Things still don¡¯t feel quite real. Maybe it¡¯s the emotional damping lingering, or maybe this is just how you feel when your life changes forever in only a couple of days.


    ¡°Well,¡± says my dad, ¡°best start packing, then.¡±


    My stomach grumbles loudly. ¡°Uh. Sorry. Could we eat first? It¡¯s been over a day since I last had a meal.¡±


    Packing gives me something to focus on, so the afternoon goes quickly. My trunk is a small one, though, and between clothes and textbooks for the non-magical courses I¡¯ll be taking there¡¯s barely any room to spare. I squeeze in a wash-kit, the set of beads Grandma sent me the last Holy Days (much to Mother¡¯s disdain, since they¡¯re hopelessly out of fashion; I¡¯ve never worn them) and my battered copy of A History of the Kings of Rasin.


    Or, well, I try to pack the book; I¡¯ve never had much self-discipline with touching it without reading. I¡¯ve missed a history lesson, I tell myself, I¡¯m allowed to read this instead. It makes me feel a little better to read the section covering the First Civil War, since that¡¯s what we would have been discussing in class.


    I¡¯ve just reached the single page which discusses the reign of Alexandra the Snow King when I hear the front door creak open. Have I lost that much time? I snatch my bookmark from the table beside the bed and slip it into the book, set it down neatly on the table and sprint into the hallway in time to greet Mother ¨C


    Oh.


    I stop in my tracks, just barely managing not to run into her. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say quickly, ¡°I thought you were ¨C ¡°


    A strange mix of emotions flickers across her face, finally settling on sternness. ¡°How many times have I told you not to run in the house, girl?¡±


    The truthful answer is none, because this isn¡¯t the kind of house that you¡¯d run in and I¡¯m not the sort of girl who runs indoors. But she won¡¯t much appreciate that. ¡°Sorry,¡± I repeat instead, straightening up. I don¡¯t quite dare meet her eyes.


    Deceitful, ungrateful brat and no daughter of hers.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you have work to catch up on?¡± she asks.


    I cringe internally, and it¡¯s an effort not to cringe externally as well. I don¡¯t bother dragging it out. ¡°I¡¯m not going back to Genford.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± Mother never shouts or snaps when she¡¯s angry. She always just sounds perfectly calm and reasonable. But I know the signs well enough.


    ¡°I can¡¯t. They don¡¯t take ¨C Malaina.¡± It¡¯s an effort to say that last word.


    ¡°But you¡¯re different. You¡¯re not like one of those abused or homeless kids. You won¡¯t hurt anyone. It will be fine once I explain it to them.¡±


    I have no words. I¡¯ve known for a while that Mother didn¡¯t understand me, but this ¨C


    How ¨C


    It¡¯s not going to be fine. I can¡¯t carry on as normal, even if I wanted to.


    I don¡¯t want to.


    ¡°Mother, you don¡¯t understand ¨C ¡° The emotional damping has faded now, but I wish it was still here. Then I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with the dread running through me. I wouldn¡¯t have to deal with the consequences of her being this angry.


    ¡°I understand,¡± she says, ¡°that you decided that the best way to deal with whatever little troubles you had was to start a fire on the school property and land yourself in the hospital for a day. And now you have the nerve to tear up your neatly-planned life and decide you don¡¯t want it any more?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose this ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Of course you did, girl! Just because you can¡¯t cope with ¨C ¡°


    There¡¯s a knock at the door.


    I thank the stars, and then immediately curse them again, because I don¡¯t want Electra to see this. Before Mother has time to say otherwise, I slip past her and open the door.


    This time it is Electra. ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says. ¡°May I come in?¡±


    ¡°No, you may not!¡± Mother snaps. Electra looks like just the kind of person she hates and complains about whenever she gets the chance, so seeing her now when she¡¯s already angry must make it even worse. ¡°Not until you explain who in stars¡¯ names you are and how you know my daughter.¡±


    She must be really furious. I¡¯ve only heard her invoke the stars twice before, and neither of those memories are pleasant ones.


    Electra shrugs. ¡°I suppose we can conduct our business on the doorstep, then. You¡¯ve made a decision?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes. I¡¯d like to attend your Academy, if I can.¡±


    ¡°Attend what Academy, precisely?¡±


    ¡°You have the papers in order?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes ¨C my dad has them ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Oh, he¡¯s involved in this, is he?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Louise. I am.¡± My dad steps into the hall. I wonder how long he¡¯s been listening. ¡°I¡¯m doing what¡¯s best for our daughter. Tallulah, the papers are on the kitchen table, everything should be ready.¡± He jerks his head towards the door he entered from.


    I nod and step around my parents, escaping from the awful tension that hangs over the hallway. My parents move closer to each other and begin to talk in urgent whispers:


    ¡°Oh, you think this is what¡¯s best, do you?¡± Mother asks.


    ¡°Yes. I¡¯ve researched Malaina¡­¡±


    They¡¯re quiet enough that I don¡¯t hear the rest, although I¡¯m barely more than a few steps away. Even this angry, both of them have the pride and self-control to not want Electra hearing their argument.


    I hate it when they argue. Especially when it¡¯s about me.


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    The papers are where my dad said they would be, everything in order, but I hesitate a second before returning. But I can¡¯t hide in here.


    ¡°The opportunities for a qualified magician are incredible,¡± my dad is saying when I get back.


    ¡°Yes, but what makes you think the girl can qualify? Given what just happened ¨C ¡°


    Stars. No. Stop saying that, Mother, please. I focus on just walking from one end of the hallway to the other, one step at a time.


    ¡°Here you are,¡± I say when I¡¯ve made it, holding the papers out to Electra.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she says, taking them and tucking them into her robes. ¡°How soon can you be ready?¡±


    I want to leave now. I¡¯ll never be ready to leave. I don¡¯t know if I can do this. ¡°It¡¯ll take me a couple of minutes to finish packing.¡±


    ¡°I can wait that long, I suppose.¡±


    It¡¯s less than that, really. All I need to do is slip A History of the Kings of Rasin in at the top, and ¨C


    Moving without thinking, I tug the bookmark out, but then I have to find my page again, and the Snow King is thus named because of the bitter weather of the winter of 205 to 206, which killed more men and women than the battles. Though she was crowned that Esteral in the Abbey Royal, she was never widely supported beyond the walls of the City. Her reign was doomed before it began.


    I replace the bookmark and snap the book shut, then place it on top of the stack of textbooks in my trunk. My hand rests on the cover and I give it a longing glance. But none of what¡¯s waiting for me in the hallway is going to wait for me to finish reading about Alexandra.


    I jerk my hand away from the book guiltily at the sound of footsteps: my dad. ¡°Can I come in?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Of course. I didn¡¯t shut the door, did I?¡±


    He steps into my bedroom and sits down on the edge of my bed beside where I¡¯m leaning over the trunk. ¡°Sorry about your mother,¡± he says. ¡°I didn¡¯t think she¡¯d be home that early. I do think she¡¯ll come round. Really.¡±


    The look on my face must be a sceptical one, because he says ¡°You don¡¯t know her like I do. She¡­ she loves you. I promise she does. And so do I.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I make myself say. ¡°I love you too.¡±


    ¡°And I¡¯ll miss you. I know we never saw much of each other, but it¡¯ll be different without you around. Will you write to me?¡± he asks suddenly.


    ¡°Yes. Yes, of course I will.¡±


    He holds out his arms for a hug; I take a step towards him and let him wrap his arms around me. It¡¯s been a long time since I was last hugged. I¡¯ve forgotten how soothing it can be to know that there¡¯s someone who will hold you and comfort you, no matter how awful you feel.


    After a long moment, he releases me. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°Are you packed?¡±


    I nod and push the lid of the trunk down, then fasten its latches. ¡°I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯m going to get.¡± Which is to say not at all.


    ¡°Shall I take your trunk through?¡±


    I can carry it myself ¨C at least, I hope I can ¨C but that¡¯s not the point. ¡°Yeah. Thanks.¡±


    Mother is nowhere to be seen when we return to the hallway, but Electra is still leaning against the wall outside; she seems to be filing her nails.


    My dad carries the trunk down the hallway and gently sets it down just outside the door.


    ¡°Are you ready?¡± asks Electra, slipping her nail file into her robes.


    I make myself nod and step over the threshold, then bend to pick up the trunk.


    Electra shakes her head and picks it up herself without apparent effort, then adjusts her grip so it rests on top of her arms. With one hand stabilising the trunk, her other is free to hold out to me. ¡°We¡¯re about to teleport,¡± she says. ¡°Your first time?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes.¡± I bite my lip to refrain from asking why she¡¯d think otherwise.


    ¡°It can be¡­ disorienting. I suggest closing your eyes. Take my hand when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    I hesitate. ¡°Goodbye,¡± I say. It feels hopelessly inadequate, but I¡¯m not sure there are words that can tell my dad everything I want to say.


    ¡°Goodbye,¡± he replies in a tone that suggests he feels the same way. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll see you for Holy Days?¡±


    ¡°Assuming I¡¯m still alive and sane by then, yes.¡± I¡¯m joking, but the fear is very real. ¡°Bye.¡± I reach out and take Electra¡¯s hand. For some reason I expected it to be cold, but her skin is as warm as mine. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to imprint the memory of home and my dad into my mind.


    Then my mind can¡¯t hold anything beyond what¡¯s happening make it stop. I can¡¯t feel the ground beneath my feet, but I¡¯m not falling or floating. The air is eerily still, the silence is absolute and the feeling that I shouldn¡¯t be here is inescapable. I cling to Electra¡¯s hand desperately.


    It only takes a few seconds, and then I can feel the sun on my skin and a gentle breeze and my feet land on solid ground. I stumble, and my eyes snap open as I correct my footing just in time to not fall.


    We¡¯re standing in a square in the centre of a city; the buildings are taller and grander than those you¡¯d find elsewhere, built from stone and painted a creamy-white. Market stalls in a dozen bright colours are set out across the square, all unoccupied since it¡¯s not the weekend, and in front of us is a small round building of white marble, with a domed ceiling, set apart from the rest of the square by a few steps; a queue of carts and wagons stretches out from the other side of it, where the ramp for goods is.


    I know this place, and it isn¡¯t anywhere in the capital.


    ¡°You took that rather well,¡± Electra says. ¡°I vomited the first time I teleported.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t look like it now; she¡¯s standing in the same position as if this was nothing more than a stroll through the city streets.


    ¡°This is Portal Square,¡± I say. ¡°In Crelt.¡±


    ¡°So it is. The wards in Ryk are such that it is impossible to teleport from within the City to without, or from without to within. I find it¡¯s educational to take the portal to just outside the City gates.¡±


    ¡°Educational,¡± I repeat. ¡°The toll is two King¡¯s Silvers. I don¡¯t have that much money with me.¡± My dad wouldn¡¯t earn that much in an average month.


    There are twelve divisions of coin: Lords¡¯, Dukes¡¯, Princes¡¯ and King¡¯s copper, silver and gold. Each is worth five of the denomination below. Most working people will go their entire lives without laying hands on a gold coin, and rumour has it there are less than a dozen King¡¯s Gold coins in existence.


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing you¡¯re with me, then. I have an exemption for frequent travel in the King¡¯s service, which applies to anyone I travel with on business. Shall we?¡±


    I nod and climb the steps, but the money isn¡¯t my only concern about travelling by portal. The Portal Network has connected Ryk, Crelt, Ridgeton, Lyrinn and Morsbury, the five greatest cities in the kingdom, for fifty years. Forty-five years ago, an attempt was made to add a sixth city, Greyford, to the network.


    That attempt is why Greyford no longer stands among the great cities of the kingdom, and why its population currently numbers zero.


    The Royal Magicians at the time guaranteed that the existing network was perfectly safe and that there would be no repeat of the disaster. I¡¯ve never found that very reassuring, considering that they were the ones who caused it in the first place, but not a thing has gone wrong with the network since.


    I still don¡¯t like the idea of travelling through it.


    Electra somehow manages to hold the door at the top open for me even with her arms wrapped around my trunk. I step inside. I was expecting to step straight into the Portal, but no: it¡¯s a small antechamber decorated in bright white (except through the ceiling, which depicts the night sky and its constellations), empty except for a bored-looking guard sitting at a desk next to the door opposite, staring at a scroll of parchment.


    ¡°Papers,¡± he says as we approach. Electra produces them from the pockets of her robes, and he glances over them. ¡°You magicians?¡±


    ¡°Yes, both of us.¡±


    ¡°Schools?¡±


    ¡°Arsinth.¡±


    ¡°Malaina.¡±


    I add that piece to the puzzle which is Electra. Arsinth is the one School of Magic that anyone can in theory access ¨C but it requires a complex, tightly-regulated and expensive ritual. Someone, somewhere along the line, decided to invest a lot in making her a magician.


    I¡¯m quickly distracted by the scowl on the guard¡¯s face when he hears the word Malaina, and the way he seems just a little tenser, his chair just a little closer to the wall. ¡°Malaina are not permitted to travel in the Portal Network unless ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Unless they have the authorisation of a person suitably qualified with whom they are travelling, who agrees to take full responsibility for any consequences of their journey, which Miss Roberts does, as you would have seen if you¡¯d bothered to look at the last document I gave you.¡±


    The guard¡¯s eyes dart from me to Electra and back, and then he nods. ¡°Well, I suppose that¡¯s all in order, then.¡± He takes a quill from his inkwell (which contains three) and scribbles a note on his parchment. ¡°Carrying any enchanted items?¡±


    Electra shakes her head.


    ¡°There¡¯s a self-inking quill in that trunk,¡± I inform him.


    He scribbles another note.


    ¡°Out of curiosity,¡± Electra asks, ¡°does your checklist include a question about curses?¡±


    The guard pales visibly at that, and doesn¡¯t bother to hide his chair scooting back another step. ¡°I ¨C no, ma¡¯am. Do you mean to say ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That I¡¯m cursed? Yes. It¡¯s perfectly contained, though. I¡¯ve been examined by magical scientists who all testify that there¡¯s no possibility of magical leakage and my travelling by portal will cause no danger.¡±


    I¡¯m with the guard on this one. Cursing someone is highly, highly illegal, punishable by death. And curses aren¡¯t things that can be perfectly contained. Every one I¡¯ve heard of has involved a slow and painful death for its victim and sometimes their entire bloodline.


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° stutters the guard, before launching into a speech that¡¯s clearly been much practised: ¡°You must not cast any magic while in the Portal, in particular anything involving transportation, teleportation or summoning. You must not activate any enchantments, or ¨C do anything that may exacerbate any curses you may be under. You are fully liable for the consequences of any breach of these rules. Is that clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He stands and opens the door. ¡°Then you may enter.¡±


    I flinch back from the other side of the door: there¡¯s no floor, no ceiling, no walls. Just an endless grey emptiness, except ¨C there¡¯s a larger door opposite, and as I watch it opens and a pair of brown horses trot through, pulling a cart behind them and turning sharply right, directed by an old woman who sits at the front of the cart holding their reins. They don¡¯t seem spooked by their surroundings.


    If the horses can deal with it, so can I. I set one foot down just inside the door, half-expecting to not find any footing. I don¡¯t, not as such, but my foot stays more or less level with the room outside and any effort to push further down meets a strange resistance with a feeling of wrongness that reminds me of the teleportation.


    ¡°Try not to think about it too hard,¡± says Electra. ¡°I¡¯ll let you ask some of the questions you must have to distract you.¡±


    How are you cursed? What happened? ¡°Why aren¡¯t Malaina allowed to travel by portal?¡± I step fully into the portal and don¡¯t look down at my feet resting on nothing. Then I start walking forwards.


    ¡°Part of the security measures. If a Malaina were to have an active episode in hyperspace, the consequences could be disastrous. I don¡¯t really think it¡¯s necessary, though. If you can¡¯t manage a one-minute journey without having an active episode ¨C unless hyperspace is a particular trigger ¨C then you might as well be mala sia, and that would be clear a long time before you reached the portal.¡±


    ¡°Hyperspace,¡± I repeat. ¡°Is that what we¡¯re in now? What exactly is it?¡±


    The narrow corridor we were in ¨C I wonder briefly how I realised it was a corridor without any walls ¨C opens out suddenly into a large pentagonal room. The cart has moved just ahead of us now, and it swings right to travel in a wide arc.


    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s a space that exists independently of our reality, that can only be reached by magic. It distorts our usual notions of distance; in hyperspace everywhere is in the same place. Magicians pass through it while teleporting, but for proper transportation it has to be¡­ stabilised. That¡¯s what the Portal Network does, in a manner of speaking. It means this particular pocket of hyperspace ¨C this way ¨C ¡° she leads me around what I instinctively know is the edge of the room, to the right of where the cart just passed ¨C ¡°exists in synchrony with reality, and can sustain travel.¡±


    We pass by another corridor just like the one we used to reach this room. It must lead to another city.


    ¡°I should make this very clear,¡± she says. ¡°There are a lot of spells or whole areas of magic that you will be told not to meddle with. In general you should follow that advice unless you are convinced you know what you are doing. When it comes to hyperspace, it does not matter how convinced you are. You do not attempt to create a pocket of stabilised hyperspace, or carry out any experiments with an existing one, unless you are prepared to cause a second Greyford disaster.¡±


    ¡°You think I¡¯d ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No. But if there¡¯s one thing fifteen years of teaching magicians has taught me, it¡¯s never to underestimate the power of sheer human stupidity.¡±


    Electra turns sharply as we reach a vertex of the pentagon, leaving me trailing in her wake. Ironically, thinking about why hyperspace is so dangerous and why I shouldn¡¯t be meddling in it does a good job of distracting me from the fact I¡¯m walking through it. Before I know it we¡¯re turning down the next corridor and then standing in front of a small door much like the one we entered through, labelled Ryk in elaborate black writing just above my head.


    I stumble as we step out, not expecting the solidness of the ground beneath my feet, and then laugh to myself in relief. This room is also much like the one we left in Crelt, except that the guard this time is an earnest young woman who studies our papers in much more detail before letting us pass.


    Electra opens the door and holds it for me. ¡°Welcome,¡± she says, ¡°to Ryk.¡±

 7. Interlude: Jack

    Beth pressed her hand in just the right place on the table to put out the enchanted fire beneath the glass bowl she was using as a smaller cauldron. The purplish-brown liquid in the bowl was still bubbling from the heat, but it would cool quickly.


    It had taken her a while to come up with any sort of idea and a while longer to find what she needed in the ordered chaos of the lab, but she¡¯d made it work: a simple modification of the recipe for a brew that would chase away tiredness and give the drinker the energy to keep working. It wouldn¡¯t change the effectiveness of the mixture, if she had it right, but the brewing took less time and the taste would be sweeter.


    She was feeling a little tired herself, now she thought of it; she yawned and stretched her arms. As she looked up she noticed that Isabelle had moved to sitting on another table just in front of her, and she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Beside her, leaning back against the metal, was a boy about their age, or possibly a little younger; he was short and skinny, with curly brown hair that made Beth wonder what it would be like to run her hands through it ¨C she almost jerked her gaze away at that thought ¨C and dressed in plain white clothes that didn¡¯t quite fit him, his shirt untucked.


    He was watching her, but looked away when he saw that she¡¯d noticed him and poked Isabelle¡¯s hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re done, then,¡± said Isabelle, her own eyes fixed on the glass bowl.


    ¡°Yes. Who¡¯s your¡­ ¡° she fumbled for the right word. ¡°Assistant?¡±


    ¡°This is Jack,¡± said Isabelle. ¡°Jack, my apprentice, Beth.¡±


    ¡°Pleased to meetcha,¡± said Jack. She couldn¡¯t quite place his accent. Somewhere down south, out in the country, at a guess.


    ¡°Is he?¡± Beth asked. ¡°Your assistant?¡±


    ¡°Sort of.¡±


    ¡°Jack is my test subject,¡± Isabelle explained.


    ¡°Test subject?¡± repeated Beth.


    ¡°Well, someone has to check if these things we make actually work.¡±


    When Isabelle put it like that, it sounded so logical. They¡¯d never been allowed to test anything on humans in class, though. When one of the boys had asked, Mr Gordeau had replied that he didn¡¯t need any incidents of poisoning in his class.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that¡­ dangerous?¡±


    Something flashed across Jack¡¯s face, faster than Beth could read, and then he said ¡°Only if Isabelle makes a mistake.¡±


    ¡°And I,¡± said Isabelle, ¡°do not make mistakes.¡±


    ¡°So you trust Isabelle,¡± Beth said after a moment. ¡°But do you trust me?¡±


    Jack met her eyes and stared at her in silent challenge. ¡°Do you trust yourself?¡±


    She hesitated. This felt like a test, or a trap, but she couldn¡¯t tell what the right answer was. Say no, and it proved she didn¡¯t believe in her own abilities and didn¡¯t think she had what it took to become a Master of Alchemy; say yes, and it proved she was a reckless fool who was prepared to put someone¡¯s life at risk out of a misguided desire to prove herself.


    ¡°Isabelle,¡± she asked, ¡°do you think I made a mistake?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t while I was watching,¡± Isabelle replied. ¡°Your brew looks how I would expect a successful brew to look. But some flaws can be near-impossible to see, and I was only in the room for half of the time you were working.¡±


    So no getting out of the trap that way. Forget that, then; she should just answer honestly. It wasn¡¯t a complicated recipe, and there were only a couple of steps that differed from the established one, neither of which should introduce any toxins. But that was assuming she had executed it correctly¡­ Gordeau had only occasionally found cause to complain of her work.


    She was reasonably sure she hadn¡¯t made a mistake. Sure enough to stake a life on it? She opened her mouth to say yes, imagined the consequences if she was wrong, and shut it again.


    ¡°If it would put you more at ease,¡± said Isabelle, ¡°I can prepare antidotes to the three most likely toxins you could have accidentally created. It won¡¯t take long; two of them are common enough I have pre-prepared antidotes and the third is simple enough to brew.¡±


    Beth nodded. ¡°That would help. Yes. Thank you.¡±


    Isabelle jumped down from her perch, humming a tune to herself, and began fetching bottles and jars from the shelves on the walls. She didn¡¯t seem to be paying attention to the labels or even looking along the shelves to find the ones she needed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to talk to her for a while,¡± Jack advised. ¡°It¡¯s a kind of trance she has when she¡¯s working. You do it too,¡± he added.


    ¡°I ¨C do I?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t notice Isabelle leaving for ten minutes, or coming back with me.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± said Beth thoughtfully, ¡°I didn¡¯t. You know Isabelle well, then?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°As well as anyone not in the Guild. I¡¯ve been working here three months, same as her.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s ¨C ¡° in the Alchemists¡¯ Guild, then? Beth stopped herself from asking that, because it was a stupid question: only the Alchemists¡¯ Guild could certify that someone was a Master.


    Isabelle had found the ingredients she needed and was unscrewing the first jar.


    There was a moment¡¯s silence before Jack asked ¡°So how¡¯d you come to be here?¡±


    Beth sketched out her story again for him.


    ¡°The Guild¡¯s too secretive, if you ask me,¡± he observed. ¡°People should at least know how to contact them without being an alchemist themselves. Try telling Isabelle that, though. She worships the ground it¡¯s built on. Alchemy isn¡¯t a job for her, it¡¯s her entire life.¡±


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    ¡°What about you?¡± Beth asked. ¡°How did you end up here?¡±


    Jack shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a job, isn¡¯t it? Three meals a day, a roof over my head. Isabelle isn¡¯t a bad person to work for.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t hard to fill in the gaps in that brief story. Beth knew how poor people were in some of the old farming villages, now that magic was turning what had once been a day¡¯s work for a family into an hour¡¯s casting for a magician. She supposed that maybe this was a better existence than scraping to find enough to feed yourself.


    The silence that fell between them wasn¡¯t an awkward one. Beth was hypnotised by the sight of Isabelle working, how smoothly she moved and how precisely she diced roots and measured out powders. She had a habit of tapping her foot against the floor to measure out time. It was graceful, almost like a dance.


    ¡°Am I really like that?¡± Beth asked.


    ¡°Well, not exactly the same, but¡­ I¡¯m not an alchemist, I don¡¯t really know what it¡¯s like. I¡¯m just watching from the outside. But to me? It seems like nothing matters to her except what she¡¯s making. That¡¯s what¡¯s the same.¡±


    Reading between the lines: she wasn¡¯t the same fluid, graceful dancer as Isabelle. That was about what she had expected. Graceful was one word you could never have used to describe Beth.


    ¡°She says you¡¯re good,¡± Jack said suddenly.


    ¡°Good at alchemy? I barely did anything more than what I¡¯ve been taught.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have to ask her for the details, but she seems to think that you could become an excellent alchemist with the right training.¡± He hesitates. ¡°She¡¯s worried about that. She¡¯s never taught anyone before.¡±


    Beth nodded. So she wasn¡¯t the only one feeling as if she¡¯d been left in a maze at night without a torch. Isabelle did a much better job of hiding it than she did, though.


    ¡°My brew has probably cooled by now,¡± she said. ¡°I should distil it.¡± She glanced around for the right vessel and found a glass bottle of a capacity about the same as the bowl she¡¯d been working with. Isabelle had removed the cooling liquid from the fire to heat her own mixture, which was currently a bright green, and set the bowl to one side.


    It was easy to find a funnel and use it to pour the mixture from bowl to bottle without spilling a single drop. The liquid was a little thicker than water, but not so thick it would need to be diluted. A little of it clung to the edge of the bowl; she made a note to ask Isabelle about how they were meant to dispose of alchemical waste.


    ¡°Well,¡± said Isabelle suddenly, ¡°that¡¯s ready, then.¡± She¡¯d decanted a small vial of antidote, now a much paler shade of green, from her own metal bowl and fetched two other glass bottles.


    No excuses now, then. Beth fetched a shot-glass and poured a dose of her brew into it. She held it out to Jack. ¡°Enjoy,¡± she said.


    He took it, tilted back his head and downed it in one gulp.


    <hr>


    ¡°Cooking isn¡¯t all that different from alchemy, if you think about it in the right way,¡± said Isabelle. She was certainly talented at both, at least if this stew was anything to go by. ¡°And I¡¯d far rather this than whatever the barracks¡¯ cook comes up with. I have heard interesting stories about army food.¡±


    ¡°The captain said we weren¡¯t supposed to fraternise with the soldiers, though,¡± Beth pointed out.


    Isabelle laughed a little. ¡°There are rules and there are rules,¡± she said. ¡°The former can be bent a little on occasion. You¡¯ll have to get used to my doing that.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the difference?¡± Beth asked.


    ¡°Rules are things Isabelle doesn¡¯t want to follow,¡± Jack said flatly, ¡°and rules are things she does.¡± He ladled another spoonful of stew onto his plate. He¡¯d eaten nearly as much as Isabelle and Beth put together already.


    Isabelle didn¡¯t seem angry with that assessment. In fact she laughed a little and said ¡°Something like that.¡±


    ¡°So what are the ¨C ¡° Beth began, but she was interrupted by a loud knocking. Not at the door to the sitting room in which they sat, but at the main door to the building.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get it,¡± said Isabelle, getting to her feet. ¡°Jack ¨C ¡°


    He was ahead of her, still holding his bowl of stew as he practically sprinted to the door while she followed at a more sedate pace.


    Beth narrowed her eyes as she watched them go. They¡¯d both been perfectly friendly to her, congratulating her on the successful test of her brew and being encouraging about her prospects of becoming a proper alchemist, but she couldn¡¯t shake the feeling there was something she was missing, that she wasn¡¯t really one of them.


    It was hardly her first time on the outside looking in, though. She could make it work.


    She heard voices outside: Isabelle sounding cheery and enthusiastic, a soldier speaking in clipped monosyllables. Then footsteps, and Isabelle poking her head back around the door.


    ¡°It¡¯s for you, Beth,¡± she said. ¡°The Administration Department would like to speak with you at your earliest convenience.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll just finish eating ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And in their language, ¡®at your earliest convenience¡¯ means ¡®right now, however inconvenient it is¡¯. So I suggest you don¡¯t keep them waiting.¡±


    Beth sighed, set down her fork and marched over to the front door.


    The soldier there was young and familiar from somewhere. He was, Beth realised a second later, one of those who¡¯d met her carriage when she¡¯d arrived only a few hours ago. Not the one who¡¯d carried her trunk.


    ¡°Miss Quint,¡± he said, nodding to her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Beth admitted, ¡°I don¡¯t remember your name.¡±


    ¡°Renard,¡± he replied. ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    It was strange, being escorted through the compound. It was a little like how she imagined walking out with a gentleman would be, if her family were rich enough and she interesting enough for a gentleman to walk out with her. But it was also completely different, because Renard marched as if he were alone, keeping half a step in front of her and not even turning to look at her.


    They walked back towards the compound entrance for a little while and then turned right and stopped at a building different from the others Beth had seen: it had two stories, and was painted a dark grey which seemed in remarkably good condition. Another soldier stood guard outside it; he and Renard saluted each other at precisely the same moment, and then Renard turned and marched away.


    ¡°Miss Quint,¡± said the new soldier. ¡°Please follow me.¡± He opened the door and led her inside and up the stairs to a narrow hallway carpeted in pale grey. Half a dozen doors opened onto it, and she was directed to the second on the right. ¡°Do make yourself comfortable,¡± the soldier said. ¡°Mrs Marling will see you shortly.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t the sort of room you could make yourself comfortable in, Beth noted sourly as she shut the door behind her. There was no natural light, and the artificial light was barely brighter than in her carriage. The only seating was a pair of hard wooden chairs in the centre of the room, facing the door opposite. Beth sat down, thinking longingly of her half-eaten stew. So she could be summoned from her meal instantly, and yet this Mrs Marling felt entitled to make her wait?


    Her mood didn¡¯t improve over the few minutes it took before a young woman in grey opened the door and invited her in.


    The next room was a small office, without affectations except for a large black filing cabinet and a desk of expensive-looking wood.


    ¡°Thank you, Angela,¡± said the woman sitting at it. ¡°See yourself out. Miss Quint, do sit down.¡± This must be Mrs Marling, then. She was about fifty at a guess, wrinkles beginning to form on her face and curly brown hair flecked with grey; she wore a frilly white blouse and rimless spectacles.


    Beth sat down in the chair indicated, which was at least nicer than the ones in the waiting room, and tried to pretend she wanted to be there.


    ¡°I¡¯m Maria Marling,¡± the woman said, ¡°director of alchemy. That doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m an alchemist, just that I¡¯m the one assigned to make sure your master has everything she needs to work productively. I trust you¡¯re settling in well?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes, Mrs Marling. Thank you.¡± She could do this. Just be polite and keep her answers short and it would soon be over.


    ¡°And how have you found Miss Froment? Your master, Isabelle,¡± she added on seeing Beth¡¯s blank look.


    ¡°She¡¯s¡­ nice. I think there¡¯s a lot she can teach me.¡±


    ¡°Have your lessons started already?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Sort of. She had me experimenting.¡± Mrs Marling didn¡¯t immediately reply, so Beth felt compelled to continue ¡°I think she wanted to get an idea of what I already know.¡±


    ¡°Was she impressed?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. She didn¡¯t say, really. Jack seemed to think she was, though.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s Jack?¡± Mrs Marling asked mildly.


    ¡°Her test subject.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ see.¡± Beth had the sudden sense that she¡¯d said something wrong, though she wasn¡¯t quite sure what it was. ¡°A word of advice, if I may?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t bother getting too close to your subjects. This is a military research laboratory. Miss Froment¡¯s assignment ¨C and yours, now ¨C is to create weapons.¡± She paused and smiled a little. ¡°Deadly weapons.¡±

 8. Edward

    One teleportation, quite a bit of surprise on my part and an hour of what was supposed to be unpacking but in reality was mostly reading about the tragic ending of the First Civil War later, I report to Electra¡¯s office as instructed.


    All of the staff offices are on the south corridor on the third floor. In a palace. In the Central Ring. I suppose it makes a sort of sense that the King would supply the premises for an institution he funds, but he surely owns properties that aren¡¯t in the innermost circle of the City, next to his own residence and opposite the Abbey Royal and the Central Bank.


    There must be a fascinating history to how this place came to be used as a school for magicians, and I¡¯ve already resolved to find it out as soon as is reasonably possible.


    I¡¯m a little early, but I¡¯m not alone in the corridor: a boy of about my age is standing next to the wall, toying with a small object in his hand. He looks up as I approach, and we study each other.


    He¡¯s a little taller than me, with short dark hair and angular features. His skin is pale, though not nearly as much as Electra¡¯s, and his figure is mostly obscured by a robe similar to Electra¡¯s but with scarlet lacing instead of her silvery-grey. There¡¯s a strange tension in the way he holds himself that I can¡¯t quite read. ¡°Hello,¡± he says after a moment.


    His accent is unmistakeable: a few of the girls at Genford had it, and most of the rest imitated it. It¡¯s the cold, clear speech of a noble, and the precise tailoring of his robes leads to the same conclusion.


    ¡°Hello,¡± I reply. He¡¯s still staring at me, and it¡¯s becoming a little unnerving. ¡°Are you a student here?¡±


    He nods. ¡°I only arrived a few hours ago.¡±


    ¡°So did I.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we¡¯ll have classes together, then.¡± It¡¯s impossible to tell from his tone how he feels about that prospect. ¡°I¡¯m Edward. It¡¯s good to meet you.¡± He holds out a hand.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± I reply, shaking it.


    ¡°Are you here to see Electra, as well?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I¡¯ve been assured that we won¡¯t need any further discussion of my Fall after the encounter with my mother (I had to bite back several protests at that remark) but I¡¯m still not sure I want this strange noble boy knowing I¡¯m Malaina. ¡°Should we knock?¡±


    I indicate the door next to me, labelled E. James by a small gold plaque of the sort you see on doctors¡¯ offices. Her surname is surprisingly ordinary.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°You can, if you like. I don¡¯t mind waiting.¡±


    I do mind waiting, so I rap sharply on the door.


    ¡°Thank you for waiting,¡± says Electra, her voice precise and measured, as if she were standing right next to us. ¡°Miss James will see you shortly.¡±


    I jump back at the first sound of her voice, then gather myself, annoyed at being so startled by an enchantment and that I¡¯ve shown that in front of Edward. I suppose there¡¯s nothing surprising about it. Electra is a magician, after all, so enchanting her office door is a perfectly normal thing to do.


    I¡¯m just not used to magic.


    Edward seems to be completely ignoring my reaction, instead stepping closer to the door and resting his palm against its surface. Nothing happens. He pauses and then takes a single step back and throws something at the door ¨C the object he was holding, a small marble.


    It hits with a faint thud and then falls to the ground.


    ¡°Thank you for waiting. Miss James will see you short ¨C ¡°


    The enchantment-Electra is interrupted by the door swinging open and the real Electra standing just inside, glaring at us. ¡°Please do not throw things at my door,¡± she says.


    ¡°I was testing the enchantment,¡± Edward explains before I can say a word. ¡°Clearly not activated by contact alone, but also not sensitive to the type of object with which it is touched. A brief period of contact, possibly, or the force of the impact. I¡¯d need to carry out further tests to be sure which.¡±


    Before I have a second to think this is my new classmate? Electra says ¡°Edward has been raised with magic for his entire life. There is nothing miraculous or supernatural about it to him; it is something to be studied and analysed and understood. He is not a typical student. Tallulah, you are neither required nor expected to keep up with him.¡±


    Great. So not just a noble, some sort of magical prodigy. All I need.


    ¡°I suppose you might as well come in, since you¡¯ve disturbed me anyway. Pick that marble up off the floor.¡±


    We obey. Edward stops short partway through the door, leaving me stuck behind him for a second before he moves out of the way at a none-too-subtle cough from Electra. The door shuts smoothly behind me without being touched, and I try not to jump.


    Electra¡¯s office is painted a deep black, and rugs of the same colour have been laid across the stone floor. There¡¯s no natural light, but a large enchanted lamp hangs from the ceiling and makes the room brighter than the sun would have done, to the point where the sharp contrasts are almost painful to my eyes.


    Shelves run most of the way around the room. They¡¯re filled mostly with old-looking books with titles like The Art of Wardsmithery from Ancient Times to the Present Day, but there are a few metal objects of unknown purpose. Set into the wall behind Electra¡¯s desk is what looks like a set of ivory tiles, a couple of them faintly glowing. The desk itself is nearly empty, with only a selection of quills and a single stack of papers taking up space.


    There are three armchairs, two on my side of the desk and one behind it; all of them, naturally, are black. ¡°Sit down,¡± says Electra, walking around the desk to obey her own command.


    We do so.


    ¡°You¡¯ve both missed the Headmaster¡¯s official welcome, since you¡¯re starting classes three days late. But such is the nature of Malaina, and of the timing of birthdays. Happy sixteenth, incidentally.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Edward replies. He must be Siaril, then: that School Awakens on the magician¡¯s sixteenth birthday. I probably could have worked that out anyway, knowing that he¡¯s noble and that most of the old Siaril families send their children here.


    ¡°This little meeting is to make you both aware of the rules of the Academy, in general and as they apply to you in particular, and also of the dangers of magic. Once that has been done, you will have your first lesson in magic. Shall we begin?¡±


    She snaps her fingers, and a pair of knives fly out from the sleeves of her robes and towards us. I¡¯m not fast enough to dive out of the way or even to make it out of the depths of the armchair before the blade of one is pressed to my throat.


    I freeze. What is she ¨C how ¨C what do I do? I don¡¯t even dare to speak, knowing the knife is that close and that one wrong move could be fatal.


    Electra is watching us calmly from across the desk. She¡¯s smiling.


    Okay. Think, Tallulah. I¡¯m not dead, so there must be some other point to this. I just need to figure out what it is.


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    ¡°Whatever point you wish to make,¡± says Edward, voice strained but firm, ¡°consider it made.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Electra says, and for one horrible second I think she¡¯s about to move the knife just a little further. But she makes beckoning motions with her hands, and they soar away from us and into her hands.


    ¡°What in stars¡¯ names ¨C why ¨C ¡° I stammer, heart pounding, wondering whether I should just get out of this room ¨C


    ¡°I presume you are aware of the consequences of harming me,¡± says Edward. The knife may be gone but the strain in his voice is not.


    ¡°Naturally,¡± Electra replies. ¡°It is fortunate that I had no such intention.¡±


    ¡°No such ¨C then why ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I needed you to believe that I intended to do you harm. That is the only reliable way of detecting class one mala sia.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re either threatening innocent children with knives, or you¡¯re provoking a monster that could destroy you as easily as blinking,¡± I say, the shock fading a little.


    Electra shrugs. ¡°This new to your powers, and on grounds of my choosing? I think I could take you down with minimal collateral damage.¡±


    ¡°And ¨C that¡¯s not how mala sia work! You can¡¯t become that less than a day after ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What makes mala sia,¡± Electra explains, ¡°is the willing acceptance of the destructive power that Malaina ¨C Edward, where are you going?¡±


    He¡¯s standing up and walking towards the door. ¡°I don¡¯t feel safe in the same room as someone who¡¯s prepared to do things like that.¡± He tugs the door handle, and it doesn¡¯t open. ¡°Please open the door.¡±


    I get to my feet, my legs trembling, and join him.


    ¡°Your father would do far worse than that,¡± says Electra.


    ¡°Not without cause. And never to me. I¡¯m following the first rule of managing Malaina: extract yourself from the situation causing loss of control.¡±


    He¡¯s Malaina? Of course he is; Electra did that test on both of us. I¡¯m impressed that he¡¯s maintaining this much coherence if he¡¯s close to an episode.


    The door swings open, and Edward and I stumble out.


    ¡°I am aware,¡± says Electra to our backs, ¡°of what you will do if I do anything else that is remotely inappropriate. Under those terms, and remaining where you are, would you be prepared to continue our meeting?¡±


    We stop.


    ¡°First,¡± I say, ¡°explain what that was.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t hurt to hear that explanation,¡± Edward adds. ¡°If she has hostile intentions then she¡¯s choosing a strange way to go about it.¡±


    Electra¡¯s lips twitch in amusement. ¡°As I was saying, the common factor that links all mala sia is the acceptance of their destructive power. Most mala sia are class two, which means that they came to that point by means of failing to escape the situation that caused their Fall or an equivalently traumatic situation. A very rare few, though, immediately embrace their newfound power. Some out of a misguided belief that they can control or direct it; others who want to watch the world burn. That is class one, and such people can present the illusion of control until they execute the specific destruction they plan ¨C except where their lives are in immediate danger. Does that satisfy you?¡±


    Edward and I glance at each other.


    ¡°That is all true,¡± he says. ¡°Given that she believes she can win a fight against a mala sia under these circumstances, it is not unreasonable. The alternative is that she was attempting to provoke me into an active episode, but if that was her intention then she could have succeeded by simply refusing to open the door for long enough. Tallulah?¡±


    He analyses her behaviour in the same way he did the enchanted door. I can¡¯t work out what he wants from me. I can¡¯t get over the part where she just ¨C it doesn¡¯t make any sense that the woman who just magically held a blade to my throat can be the same one who gave me the answers I desperately needed only a few hours ago.


    Edward¡¯s analysis does make sense to the part of my mind that is capable of setting all that aside and looking at the situation logically. And the alternative is finding another teacher I don¡¯t even know and begging them for help because of something that might not even be a problem.


    ¡°I¡¯m prepared to stay.¡±


    Edward¡¯s eyes flick from me to Electra and back. ¡°Then so am I.¡±


    ¡°In that case, allow me to continue. What I have just explained means that, no matter the circumstances, no matter how bad your situation is: there is nothing that you cannot make worse through an active episode. There is no justification for giving in to it.¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s a choice between that and death ¨C ¡° Edward suggests.


    ¡°Then you choose death.¡±


    Edward and Electra stare at each other for a long moment. He looks away first. ¡°Understood.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to find myself in that sort of a situation.¡±


    ¡°Few people do. It is unlikely but hardly impossible.¡±


    ¡°I understand, then.¡± And I do, here and now, when my life isn¡¯t in any danger (Electra¡¯s knives not withstanding). But if I do ever find myself in that position, would I be able to choose to die knowing I had a chance of saving myself?


    Stars, I don¡¯t know.


    ¡°Good. Now, as Edward correctly pointed out, the first rule of preventing active episodes is to remove yourself from the situation causing it. Any teacher will accept an imminent episode as a valid reason to leave class, though you are ¨C no, neither of you two are the type to find excuses to get out of class. In the event the episode is brought on only because of your own mind, you find someone you trust and tell them. And if there¡¯s no-one you can trust, find me.¡±


    I certainly don¡¯t trust Electra. Maybe I did a little before the knives thing, but you can¡¯t really look at someone the same way once you¡¯ve realised they can do something like that with a smile on their face. And Edward is the only other person I know here and we¡¯ve barely met.


    ¡°If you can¡¯t remove yourself from the situation¡­ each Malaina has their own coping mechanisms. You¡¯ll have to develop your own. Focusing on your breathing tends to be a good starting point. Edward, I will advise that you don¡¯t try to resist an episode through sheer force of will. That will inevitably fail, and the backlash when it does will make it all the more dangerous. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You can assume I understand what I¡¯m told unless I state otherwise.¡±


    ¡°And you can assume I don¡¯t appreciate backtalk, and if you do that in my classes you will be disciplined. Now, Malaina students are subject to the same rules as those from other Schools by default. The only addition is that you must report any episodes to me as soon as is practical.¡±


    Edward raises his hand.


    ¡°Why do I get the feeling I¡¯m not going to like this?¡± Electra asks. ¡°Very well, say whatever it is.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to report a passive episode which occurred about three minutes ago,¡± says Edward. ¡°The cause was a teacher threatening me with a knife. I followed the appropriate procedure and would like assurances that the teacher in question will not repeat her behaviour.¡±


    Electra sighs dramatically. ¡°She will not as long as you do not cause her any trouble, I am sure.¡±


    I raise my hand.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that if you have a question, Edward just thought that was a clever way to get around my request about backtalk. Which, for his information, it is not.¡±


    ¡°You said by default. That implies that there is some other non-default state.¡±


    ¡°I should have expected the lawyer¡¯s daughter to notice that. Yes, in the event that active episodes become a regular occurrence or have dangerous consequences, additional measures can be put in place to ensure the safety of all our students. But I hope that will not be necessary.¡±


    So do I.


    ¡°Each teacher is entitled to enforce their own rules within their classroom, and discipline their students as they see fit. I will supply you with a copy of each set of rules. You will be respectful to all students, teachers and other staff,¡± she recites. ¡°We do not tolerate bullying, harassment or violence and especially not the use of magic to further those aims. With regard to the use of magic outside classes, it is permitted, but only magic which you have been taught in class and only when the teacher of that class has not instructed you otherwise. Edward, I know you do not have the slightest intention of obeying that rule ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Of course I intend to obey the rules ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And your father has submitted a note requesting your exemption from it. That leaves me in a rather difficult position: one of the core tenets on which the Academy was founded is that all students are treated equally, but your father has the power to make my life extremely difficult if he so chooses. Besides which enforcement of that rule is always rather difficult if the student is not a complete idiot. So here is what I am going to do: if you are seen breaking that rule by any member of staff, or if you cause any damage beyond your own ability to fix, you will face the consequences of that. If you are asked by anyone about your breaking of that rule, this conversation did not happen.¡±


    Edward smiles a little.


    ¡°Most of the rest is housekeeping business, and can wait,¡± Electra continues smoothly as if she hasn¡¯t just tacitly given Edward permission to break the rules. ¡°Now, we come to the matter of your timetables. I¡¯m afraid neither of you will be pursuing your chosen elective courses.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡±


    ¡°But I ¨C ¡°


    She holds up a hand for silence, and gets it. ¡°Edward, you cannot take advanced practical courses until you are a qualified magician and have passed the prerequisite courses, which you have not. Neither is there an option to complete those classes in a shorter period as you suggested. You will take only the standard courses, with the exception of Advanced Magical Theory. Besides, your possessing two Schools means you¡¯ll have to work twice as hard as you otherwise would, which should at least be enough to keep you occupied.¡±


    Edward gives Electra a look that suggests he doesn¡¯t consider that matter settled.


    ¡°As for you, Tallulah, I am forbidding you from taking the Certificate of Education this year ¨C and yes, I am entitled to do that. Given the role that academic pressure played in your Fall, subjecting yourself to more of it seems foolish at best.¡±


    I have to admit she has a point, but it¡¯s still frustrating. I thought I had a plan to get my life back on track, and now I don¡¯t. And I could have coped with it, couldn¡¯t I?


    Couldn¡¯t I?


    ¡°Thank you for your patience with that,¡± says Electra with barely disguised sarcasm. ¡°Now. Shall we learn some magic?¡±

 9. Magic

    ¡°Edward, I know you could probably teach this lesson, but please be patient and confine your interruptions to the relevant rather than the needlessly pedantic.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t even bother to look affronted at that, just sighs a little.


    ¡°Magic,¡± Electra muses. ¡°What is it, really? A way of shaping the world to our will, if one is fortunate enough to have the aptitude. There are five known ways to access its power, each bringing with it its own strengths and weaknesses, its own specific way of casting. Rittome, for instance, can easily transform the shapes of objects, whereas Latira find that much more difficult. Siaril are frequently better than any other School at wardwork and enchantments. Malaina have more raw power to draw on, but can often struggle with more precise work.


    ¡°We control our power by incantations and gestures of command, but these are structures which we impose on magic. In essence, they are the best ways of casting because we believe them to be. What really matters is the will and the intent of the magician. Most of what you will learn here is the result of centuries of careful scientific study in the best ways to channel that intent and produce the desired effects, the precise ways in which you must move your fingers or pronounce incantations. But something that has personal meaning to you, something that you believe is magical, will be just as effective.


    ¡°It is all an illusion, of course. The true nature of magic has nothing to do with how your fingers move or what words you say. But some illusions are very much necessary. It is possible to dispense with these constructs and cast directly from pure intent, but it is not advised. In particular for Malaina: it is all too easy to slip from intent-casting into an active episode without even noticing. But for all Schools, the danger is that each time you cast in this way, you temporarily lose a part of yourself.


    ¡°Your judgement, I suppose you could say. The part of you that knows the consequences your actions can have beyond the immediate problem. The part of you that knows when to stop. And that is the problem. The amount of magic the human body can channel is finite. There are warning signs, which you will know when you feel them, but when you lack the presence of mind to notice them¡­ then you will channel more magic than you are capable of. And that is nearly always fatal.¡±


    Great. More ways magic can ruin my life or get me killed. All I need.


    ¡°Is that why there are no more spell-singers?¡± Edward asks. He¡¯s been silent throughout Electra¡¯s speech.


    I narrow my eyes at that. I don¡¯t know much about spell-singers, only that a few historical texts mention them in the context of battle as an apparently quite powerful force.


    ¡°Yes. The fatalities sustained were simply too high to be practical. Any further questions?¡±


    There are none.


    ¡°That is a general introduction to magic; when you catch up on the last few days¡¯ lessons you will learn more about individual areas. For now, let us move to something more practical.¡±


    Despite myself, I can¡¯t help feeling a little excited at that prospect.


    Electra leans back into her office and makes a beckoning motion with her hands; two brown box-like objects fly towards her and she plucks them out of the air.


    ¡°If those are what you think, I won¡¯t need one,¡± Edward says, removing a similar object from the pocket of his robes.


    ¡°Of course you won¡¯t,¡± Electra mutters. She tosses one of the boxes at me; I¡¯m startled but I manage to react in time to snatch it before it hits the ground. ¡°At least tell me you haven¡¯t done any independent Malaina casting.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t,¡± says Edward. ¡°Only channelling, and that only so I could tell which School I was using and how to choose which to draw on. And I was more than adequately supervised for that.¡±


    I turn the object over in my hand. It¡¯s made of a rough wood, square and about the size of my palm and the thickness of my thumb. On one side there¡¯s a copper-piece-sized area of grey metal just off-centre, and in its centre is a tiny glass dome.


    ¡°This device has a simple enchantment,¡± Electra says. ¡°It is remarkably inefficient for any practical purpose, and is instead used to introduce magicians to the concept of channelling their power into an object, which is essential to all enchanting work and useful for most other casting. Place your middle finger on the metal disc.¡±


    I let the box sit in the palm of my left hand, wincing at a stab of pain from its burn, and my right hand sit on top of it, middle finger on the metal as directed.


    ¡°Now close your eyes and imagine a river flowing through your body. Magic isn¡¯t something you do, it¡¯s what you are. It¡¯s part of you now.¡±


    That¡¯s probably supposed to be a good thing, something thrilling and exciting. In a way it is, but in another way it¡¯s just terrifying. The destructive power of Malaina is my power, and I could do terrible things with it.


    I don¡¯t want to do terrible things.


    I make myself set that thought aside and follow the instructions. There is a river of magic flowing through my body, in my blood. My heart is pumping magic around my body. It¡¯s easier than I thought to imagine its potential building up inside me, until there¡¯s so much that I can¡¯t contain it anymore and it has to get out ¨C


    ¡°Good,¡± says Electra, but her voice sounds like it¡¯s coming from a very long way away. ¡°Now feel the metal beneath your finger. Feel the magic running through that finger. And ¨C ¡°


    I don¡¯t wait for her to finish, because I know that this is the outlet I need, and I feel all the magic that¡¯s built up flowing out of me through that finger and ¨C


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    Bang.


    My eyes snap open, and I immediately blink at the brightness of the light I¡¯m holding in my hand. It takes me a second to realise what¡¯s happened: the glass dome in the box has been reduced to powder, and a blinding white light is being emitted from the place where it was.


    Oh, stars. I did that.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± someone is saying. A woman¡¯s voice: Electra¡¯s, I think. ¡°Put the box down.¡±


    I crouch down and place it on the floor ¨C or I try to, but my fingers won¡¯t release it. I¡¯m gripping it hard enough to hurt, and it feels as if the metal disc is an extension of my finger.


    ¡°Look at me,¡± says another voice, low and intense, expecting to be obeyed.


    I drag my gaze up away from the box and meet Edward¡¯s warm grey eyes. He¡¯s crouched down next to me, an expression I can¡¯t read on his face. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he tells me. ¡°You can¡¯t get these things right first time. I¡¯ve destroyed three of those boxes since last night. But you have to stop now, Tallulah.¡±


    He reaches out with a long-fingered hand, slowly but inevitably, until our hands brush together atop the box. Gently, he grips my central finger between his finger and thumb and lifts it away from the metal disc.


    The light vanishes instantly, and I drop the box as if it were burning my hand. It clatters to the floor, filling the suddenly awkward silence as I realise how close I am to this strange boy, how our eyes are locked on each other and our hands are still touching.


    The firm, confident Edward from a second ago has vanished. He seems suddenly awkward and uncertain. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, ducking his head to break eye contact and releasing my hand. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I reply, sitting down and leaning back against the wall. Its solidness is reassuring. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Are you hurt?¡± asks Electra. ¡°Even powdered glass can do quite a bit of damage to the body.¡±


    I turn my hands over to check for blood or embedded glass. They¡¯re shaking, but there¡¯s nothing wrong with them other than the burn. ¡°No. No, I¡¯m fine.¡± My voice comes out calm and level, to my surprise.


    ¡°Are you ready to try again?¡±


    No. I never want to do that again. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay if you¡¯re not.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I lie.


    ¡°You¡¯re not fine,¡± Electra snaps. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with not being fine. There¡¯s quite a lot wrong with telling people you¡¯re fine when you¡¯re not.¡±


    Maybe she¡¯s right; maybe if I¡¯d told someone I wasn¡¯t fine months ago I wouldn¡¯t be sitting here now. But I¡¯ve been doing it all my life. ¡°Give me a few minutes?¡± I try.


    Electra nods and picks up the remnants of my box. ¡°Edward, I¡¯d ask you to do the same, but I¡¯m sure you already have. The next thing we¡¯re going to do is a simple light spell.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°Sunlight, come to me,¡± he says, lifting one hand towards the sky. When he lowers it, it¡¯s filled with a warm golden glow.


    ¡°Siaril, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I suppose I¡¯ll need to choose a different incantation for Malaina? I haven¡¯t studied casting in other Schools in any detail.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important to keep them separate in your mind, yes. You must always be quite clear which School you are casting from, because otherwise it is only too easy to find yourself leaving structure behind and drawing too deeply. Malaina tends to rely on personal meaning more than other Schools, and the gestures of command are more dramatic in general.¡±


    The more I hear about Malaina, the less I realise it suits me. I do everything by the textbook, I¡¯m careful and precise, nothing grand or dramatic about my work and certainly nothing of personal meaning. But it seems like my magic will have to be different.


    If I can ever make it work.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have specific advice, then?¡± Edward asks.


    ¡°Not as such.¡±


    He falls silent, and Electra turns back to me. ¡°You¡¯re scared of it, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of ¨C Malaina?¡±


    She scoffs. ¡°What else?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I admit. ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Most are, at first. But the more you fear it, the more power you give it over you. Malaina has the potential to be destructive, but so does any other School. I could destroy this building and kill everyone here, were I so inclined.¡±


    I can¡¯t help wincing at that example after the knives, but she¡¯s right. All magic can be destructive, if that¡¯s what the magician wants. It¡¯s just that with Malaina, what I want might not matter.


    ¡°You have to believe that the magic is yours. You are capable of controlling it and making it do your bidding. That won¡¯t come all at once, but you will learn it with practice.¡± Electra pulls the other box, the one Edward didn¡¯t need, out of her robe and holds it out to me.


    I take it with a steady hand and slowly place my finger onto the metal disc. I close my eyes, breathe in and out, focusing on the river of magic that runs through me, the river which is part of me, the cold metal that touches my finger. The magic wants to pour out of me and into the metal, to escape ¨C


    No. I take another breath. I mustn¡¯t release it, not all of it. It¡¯s not releasing it at all, really; just letting it keep flowing through my finger and into the metal without disturbing the delicate balance of its course through my body.


    I open my eyes. The glass dome is glowing a dim white. I laugh: it suddenly seems so easy, so natural.


    I did that. I¡¯m a magician.


    ¡°Good,¡± says Electra. ¡°Practice for as long as you need; you can keep the box once we are done. Edward, are you ready to attempt the light spell?¡±


    He nods sharply and reaches upwards with one hand, further than before, as if he could touch the stars if he stretched just a little further. ¡°Always,¡± he whispers reverently, ¡°and forever.¡±


    And light blazes out from his hand. It¡¯s different from the light he cast earlier: this is a silvery-grey, almost the colour of starlight. Its brightness changes as I watch, cycling from dim enough to be barely visible to bright enough it hurts to look at.


    He makes it look so easy.


    You are neither required nor expected to keep up with him.


    My mind doesn¡¯t work that way, though. I¡¯ve never coped well with someone being better than me; I always have to work harder, study later, prove to myself that I¡¯m just as good as they are.


    That¡¯s probably not a good idea now.


    I focus on the box, on channelling a trickle of magic through it, enough to light the glass without reducing it to powder. It gets easier each time as I grow used to the process, until I don¡¯t need to shut my eyes and can change the brightness in the same way Edward does with his spell-light.


    Edward is struggling more with what he¡¯s doing next, which is trying to summon the gold Siaril light and the silver Malaina one simultaneously. Each time he casts one, the other flickers out of existence.


    ¡°Simultaneous casting is hard,¡± Electra informs him. ¡°Only a handful of multi-School magicians can do it at all, never mind when they¡¯ve had magic barely a day.¡±


    ¡°And?¡± Edward asks.


    Okay, so he¡¯s either extremely arrogant or ridiculously talented. Or, quite possibly, both.


    ¡°And I suppose trying to do something like that will keep you occupied enough not to give me any headaches, so I won¡¯t discourage you any further.¡±


    I¡¯m ready to try the light-spell, I think. I¡¯ve spent enough time watching Edward that I know what I need to do. It¡¯s just a matter of finding the right incantation. Something connected to light, something with personal meaning¡­


    A line from A History of the Kings of Rasin appears in my mind. But Philippa¡¯s army followed her because they saw her as a light in the ugly darkness of the times. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s personal meaning in the sense Electra meant, but it¡¯s a quote that¡¯s always stuck in my mind and that I¡¯ve always liked wondering about.


    ¡°In the ugly darkness,¡± I pronounce, stretching my hand upwards towards the ceiling and above it the sky.


    And it blazes with a silvery light.

 10. Stew and Conversation

    ¡°Well,¡± says Edward a while later. Electra is satisfied with what she¡¯s told and taught us, and we¡¯re walking back towards the main staircase, staying together by unspoken agreement. ¡°That was not what I expected.¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± I reply, thinking of knives and starlight-silver light-spells. "Should we... tell someone? About..." I gesture to my throat, mimicking a blade held to it.


    Edward shrugs. "You can, if you want. I''m not going to. Theories?¡±


    ¡°On¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°Who Electra is and what she¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t the faintest idea.¡±


    Edward starts to say something, stops, and begins again: ¡°Let¡¯s start with what we do know.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s some sort of expert on Malaina,¡± I say. ¡°Teaches Magical Combat, and is covering Countering Magical Effects.¡±


    ¡°The usual teacher is having a baby,¡± Edward says, a note of scepticism in his voice. ¡°Worth investigating that, if we can.¡±


    ¡°You think ¨C what ¨C why ¨C ¡° The idea that a teacher¡¯s pregnancy could be a conspiracy aimed at getting Electra to teach Countering Magical Effects is ridiculous. What possible motivation could she have?


    ¡°I¡¯m ruling nothing out at this stage.¡±


    We stop walking; we¡¯ve reached the main staircase.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to get food from the canteen,¡± says Edward with an air of affected casualness. ¡°Do you want to come with me?¡±


    I am quite hungry, I realise. I still haven¡¯t quite worked out what I think of Edward and whether he¡¯s the sort of person I want to spend time with, though. I¡¯d much rather be alone with my thoughts.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t,¡± he says. ¡°Just ¨C you¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve ¨C first student I¡¯ve met here ¨C and I wondered if ¨C ¡°


    It¡¯s the crestfallen expression on his face that gets me: I know how that feels. ¡°No ¨C ¡° I say, ¡°I mean ¨C yes ¨C sure ¨C let¡¯s get food. Uh¡­ do you know which way the canteen is?¡±


    The palace has a well-ordered structure, or at least what I¡¯ve seen of it so far does, but that doesn¡¯t change the fact I¡¯ve only been here a few hours and the only place I¡¯m sure I could find is my dormitory.


    ¡°I¡¯ve explored a little,¡± Edward says. ¡°One floor down.¡±


    So we set off down the wide, spiralling marble staircase together, the sounds of our footsteps echoing from the distant ceiling.


    ¡°Where were we? She thinks she could take a mala sia in combat ¨C albeit new to their powers ¨C which would mean she¡¯s either delusional, wanting to appear delusional, or incredibly dangerous.¡±


    ¡°She told me she was considerably more dangerous than she looked,¡± I put in, trying my best to contribute despite this conversation being like nothing I¡¯ve ever known, even in Law lessons. ¡°And she has a limp ¨C that¡¯s unusual for a magician, isn¡¯t it? Couldn¡¯t she just have it healed?¡±


    ¡°In general, you¡¯re right. But there are a rare few spells that could cause an injury unhealable by magical means. Or there¡¯s the possibility she chooses to keep it for whatever reason. I¡¯d say the evidence implies she¡¯s worked for one of the SMOs, most likely ¨C ¡°


    I¡¯m a little nervous about interrupting and admitting my ignorance, but if Edward wants my input on this mystery then he¡¯ll have to deal with the fact I don¡¯t have the faintest idea what I¡¯m doing. ¡°What¡¯s an SMO?¡±


    ¡°Special Magical Operatives unit. An elite group of combat-trained magicians working for some branch of the government or army. The High Royal Guard, the Twelfth Division ¨C ¡° he counts them off on his fingers as if reciting them from memory, ¡°the Birds, the mala sia taskforce. I¡¯d consider the last of those most likely, except that to have served more than a year or two and still be alive is improbable ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stop,¡± I say as we reach the second floor. I don¡¯t really want to hear about the number of people killed by mala sia in their attempts to protect the rest of the country from them.


    ¡°Oh,¡± says Edward. ¡°Right. North corridor,¡± he adds, setting off around the balcony-like structure that surrounds the staircase and leaving me to follow.


    It isn¡¯t a corridor, it¡¯s just where the canteen is, at least according to the sign. There¡¯s another one beside the door, displaying its opening hours and rules (though really those should go without saying: no food fights, no casting spells on the food or that could disrupt other people¡¯s meals.)


    The room is in the shape of a sector of a circle, its floor of bare stone and walls of the same decorated by paintings and tapestries, and the ceiling just as high as every ceiling here painted with constellations. The serving area is to our left, and in front of us long straight wooden tables radiate outwards towards the other end of the space.


    Edward doesn¡¯t speak again until we¡¯ve been served, except to answer the cheery ¡°New here?¡± of the woman ladling out portions of stew with a terse ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Just arrived today,¡± I add.


    ¡°Welcome, then, and enjoy your studies.¡±


    The tables are fairly quiet tonight, whether because of our timing or because most of the students like to eat elsewhere. Edward picks out a pair of seats at the far end of the room, beneath a portrait of King Charles the Ruthless and out of earshot of any of the two dozen or so other students eating in small groups.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± he says as we pull out our chairs. ¡°I should have realised the effect mentioning the lifespan of the mala sia taskforce would have on you.¡±


    I hadn¡¯t been expecting that; he didn¡¯t seem the sort who would apologise easily. It takes me a couple of seconds to reply ¡°Apology accepted. But¡­¡±


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    I hesitate, and he watches me curiously.


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it have the same effect on you?¡±


    ¡°No. I¡¯m terrified of being Malaina,¡± he admits, ¡°but not of becoming mala sia. I¡¯ve had several people promise to kill me before it got that far, and they¡¯re the sorts of people who mean those promises.¡±


    And he thinks of that as comforting? Who is this boy?


    He¡¯s just as much of a mystery as Electra.


    I take a mouthful of stew to cover my utter failure to find a response to that, and find myself smiling. It¡¯s nicer than it looks, nicer than I¡¯m used to: the flavours are sharp and blend together well. ¡°This is good stew,¡± I say once I¡¯ve finished my mouthful.


    ¡°It¡¯s not bad,¡± Edward says.


    By which he means: not as good as whatever delights his vastly accomplished chef can create from the finest ingredients available.


    Without so much as blinking at the shift in topics, he adds ¡°She enjoyed it, is what worries me.¡±


    I bite back a sigh. ¡°Who enjoyed what?¡±


    ¡°Electra. That moment with the knives. Did you see her face?¡±


    ¡°She was smiling.¡±


    He nods grimly. ¡°Someone who can enjoy a moment like that and yet be so apparently supportive and helpful to you¡­ that worries me more than any of the other signs.¡±


    ¡°Not me,¡± I reply, remembering the thing that¡¯s more disturbing than any of this, that I¡¯d almost forgotten with how quickly everything has been happening. ¡°When we travelled by portal¡­ she mentioned she was cursed.¡±


    I have the satisfaction of watching his eyebrows shoot up in shock or at least surprise at that revelation.


    ¡°The only detail I have is that it¡¯s¡­ perfectly contained. Which shouldn¡¯t be possible.¡±


    Edward narrows his eyes, studying me. ¡°Curses¡­ aren¡¯t exactly what most people think they are. The precise definition is ¨C ¡° he shifts his posture subtly to sit more upright and repeats as if reciting from a textbook ¨C ¡°a negative magical effect targeting a person or bloodline without their presence or consent, impossible to remove without meeting its inherent condition and nearly impossible to modify.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know the details of how you go about cursing someone, but I¡¯ve heard it¡¯s¡­ not the kind of thing a morally upstanding person would be willing to do. But. There¡¯s nothing to say a curse has to be fatal. In theory it would be perfectly possible to, for instance, curse someone to have perpetually itchy feet.¡±


    I can¡¯t help a laugh at the incongruity of that example, and have to fight to avoid spitting out half-chewed meat.


    ¡°If anything,¡± Edward reflects, ¡°that makes it more disturbing. Electra has somehow attracted an enemy who¡¯s magically skilled, has access to expensive reagents and few moral scruples, and chose to use them to¡­ do something unknown but clearly non-fatal.¡±


    ¡°Would it be possible,¡± I ask, a thought occurring to me, ¡°to curse someone to¡­ Well. To enjoy watching other people suffer?¡±


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°Not unless she had a strong personal objection to the idea that someone might, or the idea of seeing someone in suffering and not helping them.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that everyone?¡±


    Edward blinks at that and then studies me as if he¡¯s seeing me in a new way.


    ¡°Well. Most people,¡± I correct myself. ¡°There are always a few who ¨C ¡°


    He shakes his head sharply. ¡°Have you never been angry enough at someone to make them want to hurt?¡±


    The face of my English teacher pops into my mind. ¡°Not only failing to complete your work, despite having the entire summer for it, but lying about it?¡±


    My silence is answer enough for Edward. ¡°And does that thought make you feel appalled? Do you hate yourself for having it?¡±


    I consider that for a moment. It scares me, because now I¡¯m Malaina and I could act on a thought like that without entirely intending to, but do I hate myself for it? Does having it make me a bad person?


    No. What he did was wrong, and I¡¯m allowed to be angry about it.


    ¡°See? You¡¯re hardly a walking star, Tallulah. Neither am I. Stars, you could make a pretty good argument my dad is evil.¡±


    I should be used to his saying things like that as if they¡¯re perfectly normal by now, but I¡¯m not. ¡°Is he?¡± I ask after swallowing a little too quickly.


    ¡°No,¡± Edward says immediately, but then adds ¡°though I¡¯m biased, of course. There are¡­ there are a lot of people who¡¯d say yes, though. Some of them have very good reasons for it. People are complicated, I guess. My dad more than most.¡±


    I have to blink a few times: I¡¯ve hated my mother, been embarrassed by her, questioned her judgement many times: the same way every teenager relates to their parents. But I¡¯ve never once had cause to wonder whether she¡¯s evil.


    Edward seems conflicted: he¡¯s opening and closing his mouth, his gaze shifting from me to a point a few yards behind me and over my head.


    I take a gulp of water to try and hide my growing discomfort and immediately regret it when he spits it out: ¡°He¡¯s Henry Blackthorn, okay?¡±


    I can¡¯t help it: my mouth falls open and water trickles out of it down my chin to drip onto my clothes. I snap it shut, swallow, nearly choke. It takes me nearly half a minute to recover my composure, and when I do all I can find to say is ¡°Well, that explains some things.¡±


    It does, too. The Blackthorns are an old Siaril family, but not like the others ¨C not like anything other than themselves, really. Their line can be traced back six centuries, and near every member of it can be found in the history books ¨C and not just the ones that list lineages like theirs.


    Richard Blackthorn, the founder of the dynasty, was the commander of a knightly order of bastards who rose to become Philippa the Bright¡¯s chief general in the First Civil War ¨C and, so it¡¯s rumoured, her secret lover. His daughter (not by Philippa) was one of the most talented magicians history has ever known: even I¡¯ve heard of her legendary skill, and I¡¯m no expert on magic.


    And so it continues: dozens of names, more often infamous than famous. Most of the line were either magicians as talented as they were mad or power-hungry schemers seeking to claim the throne ¨C Felix Blackthorn succeeded in that, at least for a while, and triggered the Second Civil War in the process. The present lord¡¯s father seemed to break that trend, at least, becoming a successful merchant and making few enemies.


    It''s far too soon to know what history will make of Henry Blackthorn, but so far he seems to be fitting the power-hungry schemer model quite well: in addition to the inherited position of Siaril Royal, he¡¯s got himself appointed Minister for Intelligence and has been busy reforming the department and increasing his own power in the process.


    It¡¯s no surprise that a son of his would be a magical prodigy with a¡­ somewhat questionable worldview.


    ¡°I bet it does,¡± Edward mutters.


    ¡°No ¨C I didn¡¯t mean that in a bad way ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind. You can say it. I know the rumours.¡±


    The Black Raven, they call him, after the bird that sits on his family crest. Or the Lord of Shadows. Or several other things not fit to be printed, mostly muttered in whispers and ending with may the stars protect us from him.


    ¡°Really. I don¡¯t ¨C you seem ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Is he evil?¡±


    There was a protest in the City a couple of years ago against some tax or other. It turned ugly, so the papers said, became a riot and caused damage to property. The City Guard did not deal with it lightly: the official death toll was only ten but many more were injured, sometimes permanently, even those who hadn¡¯t been trying to fight or damage anything.


    A month or two after that, the papers said that the reason that protest became a riot was that Intelligence agents were planted within it and given the task of spreading violence to give the Guard the excuse to shut it down using all the force at their disposal. At Henry Blackthorn¡¯s orders.


    That¡¯s just the beginning.


    Is it evil that makes a person capable of things like that?


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say, but I¡¯ve hesitated a fraction too long. ¡°I don¡¯t understand politics that well, and I¡¯ve never met him. Who am I to judge? Besides. He¡¯s not sitting here eating this stew with me. I¡¯m fairly sure you¡¯re no more evil than I am.¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± Edward remarks, ¡°it¡¯s surprising how few people seem to notice that.¡±


    ¡°What, that you¡¯re not evil? I tend to assume people aren¡¯t evil unless ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That I¡¯m not an extension of my father,¡± he interrupts. His tone is carefully neutral, but I can sense the resentment behind those words. Abruptly, he takes another forkful of stew and lifts it to his mouth.


    ¡°Tell me about yourself,¡± he says when he¡¯s done swallowing.


    So I do.

 11. Morning

    I wake early, as I¡¯m in the habit of doing: I like to make sure I have the time to be prepared for the day ahead and possibly work on an essay before I have to leave for Genford. I guess my sleep schedule must have fixed itself despite the entire day I spent unconscious and how late I got to bed last night; when I pull back the curtains and peek out, the old clock hanging from the dormitory wall is just finishing striking six. Its chimes are soft and quiet, which is the only reason I slept at all.


    Dormitory, I remember. Curtains around my four-poster bed. It takes me a little while to put together the pieces of where I am and everything that¡¯s changed.


    I stand and step away from my bed, trying not to make a sound that will wake the others. If I remember rightly, the attached bathroom should be just to the left¡­ yes. I pad over to it and open the door slowly, wincing as it creaks a little, then slip inside and shut it behind me.


    The bathroom¡¯s enchanted light appears, filling the room nearly the size of the dormitory itself with a faint gold which reflects off the white tiles of the wall. I squeeze my eyes shut reflexively: the morning light in the dormitory was dim enough that this is a sudden adjustment.


    Once I¡¯ve adjusted, I stare at my reflection in the full-length mirror opposite the door. She looks about as exhausted as I feel, bags around her deep brown eyes. No wonder, after everything that happened yesterday.


    Edward and I talked for an hour or two last night: at first about ourselves, and then about magic, history and whatever else occurred to us. Both of us carefully avoided the topic of Malaina or Falling.


    By the time we were done it was about eight after noon: even for me, there was no prospect of sleep that early, so I discovered one of the many study rooms the Academy provides its students and spent an hour or two teaching myself some basic magical theory.


    It hadn¡¯t really occurred to me that I had dorm-mates until I got back just before ten after noon ¨C I¡¯d known it abstractly, in the sense that I¡¯d seen four other beds in the room when unpacking, but hadn¡¯t thought about what any of them would be like.


    Still, they¡¯d seen my things and realised someone new must have arrived, which meant they wanted to introduce themselves. They seem fairly normal, at least relative to the only two other residents of the Academy I¡¯ve encountered, and are all about my age, give or take a year or two. Their names are Hannah, Aisha, Lucy and Robin; Hannah and Lucy are Rittome, Robin Siaril and Aisha Latira (I didn¡¯t ask, but I¡¯m curious about the story behind that one: there¡¯s only one spirit-forest left in the whole of Rasin and it doesn¡¯t particularly like people).


    Robin and Hannah both visibly flinched when I told them I was Malaina. No-one made it into a problem, though, and we continued chatting while I tried to ignore the pain that gave me. After comparing timetables we discovered that I¡¯ll share classes with Hannah and Aisha ¨C Lucy is taking her Certificate of Education as well so has to work around the timetable of the partner school, and¡­ I can¡¯t remember why Robin isn¡¯t in our class, actually. Did she even tell me?


    After a while Lucy suggested a round of cards, and we played for a couple of hours. I withdrew to try and sleep after losing several times, but my curtains lack soundproof enchantments so the sound of the game kept me awake a while longer.


    I step over to the sink and turn on the tap, rejoicing in whatever enchantment means water can flow directly out of it so I don¡¯t have to fetch a heavy jug. Splashing a little water onto my face makes me feel a little more alive.


    The canteen opens for breakfast at seven, if I remember right, and my first class is Spells at nine. That gives me plenty of time to clean myself up, work out where I¡¯m going and ¨C I force myself not to think about how unprepared I¡¯ll be for the lesson without having had the chance to catch up on the two I¡¯ve already missed.


    <hr>


    I leave for breakfast just before seven, with none of my dorm-mates yet awake, but I underestimate the time it takes to reach the canteen from my dormitory so I¡¯m there a couple of minutes after it opens.


    Cooked breakfasts won¡¯t be ready for another half-hour, since the cooking staff don¡¯t particularly want to be up before five, but there¡¯s the option of porridge or toast. I collect a bowl of the former and look for somewhere to sit. This early it¡¯s still quiet, and people are sitting mostly on their own. I spot the only student I know who¡¯s awake sitting at the same place as last night, working his way steadily through a plateful of toast and a pile of newspapers, and decide to join him.


    He doesn¡¯t look up as I approach, so when I reach the chair opposite I say ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he says, dragging his gaze away from the papers. ¡°Tallulah. Good morning.¡±


    ¡°Do you ¨C do you mind if I sit with you?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t.¡±


    I pull out my chair and sit down, frowning in thought. Edward seems fairly alert, so it¡¯s not that he just can¡¯t function in the mornings, but there¡¯s definitely a tension in him that wasn¡¯t there last night.


    ¡°Sorry if I¡¯m prying,¡± I say, ¡°but ¨C is something wrong?¡±


    He hesitates for a second before tossing one of the papers at me. I catch it just in time to prevent it being dunked in porridge. It¡¯s this morning¡¯s edition of the City Herald, and its headline is FALL OF BLACKTHORN HEIR.


    I grimace and begin to read. The account is lacking in any actual detail, simply stating that Edward Blackthorn, sixteen-year-old son and heir of Lord Henry Blackthorn, Siaril Royal and Minister for Intelligence, developed Malaina three days ago under unknown circumstances.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    What it lacks in fact, it makes up for in speculation. There¡¯s comments from a woman whose husband was questioned by Intelligence: The Black Raven is a cruel man. My husband still has nightmares after his interrogation. It doesn¡¯t surprise me at all, the poor boy.


    Is she implying ¨C


    She is, and the rest of the article makes that clear ¨C that is to say, it dances carefully around it, implying it without ever outright accusing Henry Blackthorn of abusing his son.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, tossing the paper away in disgust and meeting Edward¡¯s eyes.


    ¡°They¡¯re all like that,¡± he replies with barely-supressed anger. ¡°The Report, the Informer. Never once saying anything that would lead to a lawsuit, but making their accusations quite clear regardless.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not right,¡± I say with a conviction that surprises even myself. Regardless of whether he was abused, no-one deserves to have their private pain plastered all over the fronts of the papers for half the country to read.


    ¡°It¡¯s politics. I didn¡¯t think it would happen so quickly, but it was inevitable. A Malaina son is the perfect way to hurt his reputation and make him into even more of a villain. And it¡¯s not as if he can do anything to supress it, what with their technically not lying about us.¡±


    Stars. The wounds left by my Fall are still far too raw to touch. I can only imagine how much worse it would be if they were being exploited for political gain. ¡°Surely there¡¯s something you can do to stop them?¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t touched your porridge.¡±


    I haven¡¯t. Even I can recognise that for the deflection it is, though.


    ¡°How familiar are you with politics?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I know how the system works.¡± There¡¯s the King, of course, and then the nobles, Parliament and the Ministries all answer to him and to each other. Most of the nobles sit in Parliament, and many govern cities or regions; the Ministries are responsible for infrastructure and enforcement of the law on a national level, and Parliament passes laws that keep each of them in check and hold them to account.


    ¡°Have you read Thornton?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard of him, but I¡¯m not acquainted with his work.¡± All I know, really, is that he was one of the foremost political philosophers of the last century. Political philosophy isn¡¯t something I¡¯ve studied at all.


    ¡°I recommend it. An oversimplification of reality, of course, but illustrates the principles at work very well. His Doctrine of Balances is one of those: at its core, it states that no one person can gather too much power to themselves without attracting opposition, and that there must exist an equilibrium between the most powerful lords for a kingdom to be stable.¡±


    History agrees with that principle: all three Civil Wars and several minor unrests have been provoked by individuals or groups gathering enough power that they posed a threat to the throne, and now I think about it the lack of others with that power who could have acted as counterweights undoubtedly contributed to that.


    ¡°That makes sense,¡± I say, ¡°but what does that ¨C ¡° I should have seen it at once. A Royal Magician is by default one of the most powerful people in the kingdom: even without lands granted to them their position as a close advisor to the King gives them great influence. And Ministers for Intelligence have often wielded more power than other offices: having all of the kingdom''s spies reporting to you personally tends to make you indispensable to the throne.


    So when someone is both of those things at once? That is most definitely enough power to disrupt the balance.


    ¡°He can¡¯t influence the papers,¡± I say. ¡°If it got out he was doing that ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Then there¡¯d be no stopping the rumours he¡¯s set on taking the throne for himself. So I¡¯m stuck with ¨C ¡° he jerks his hand at the papers ¨C ¡°this.¡±


    ¡°Except,¡± I muse, ¡°you¡¯re not your father. Are you?¡±


    <hr>


    I didn¡¯t have a particular idea in mind, saying that, but I seem to have given him one. By the time I¡¯ve remembered that my porridge is getting cold he¡¯s set off elsewhere, the entire stack of papers tucked under one arm and carrying his mostly-finished plate of toast in his other hand.


    I eat quickly, wishing I hadn¡¯t left the porridge so long: the consistency is good, but porridge is nicer the hotter it is, and this is no exception. If I get back to the dormitory soon enough, I should be able to do enough work that I¡¯m somewhat prepared for the upcoming lessons.


    ¡°Morning, Tallulah,¡± says Aisha softly when I return to the dormitory, standing up from her perch on the end of her bed, just in front of her curtains. ¡°Hope you didn¡¯t want the bathroom. Robin¡¯s been in there fifteen minutes already. She does that every morning.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t seem too bothered about it, and I¡¯m not surprised: even tired and overwhelmed last night, I saw she doesn¡¯t let much bother her. She¡¯s the peacemaker in this group of girls, with a serenity I envy a little.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I reply in the same quiet tone. ¡°Is anyone still asleep?¡±


    ¡°Hannah. She should be awake soon, though. We¡¯re mostly early risers, except on weekends. You¡¯ve had breakfast?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°You can still come down with me and Lucy?¡± she offers.


    Lucy pokes her upper body out from between her curtains and waves.


    Aisha and Lucy are probably the two I like most of the four girls I share a room with; neither of them seemed as concerned as the other two about Malaina, and besides Hannah is too loud and brash for me to get on well with her and Robin a little stand-offish.


    Still, though, I was going to study, wasn¡¯t I?


    I¡¯m surprised at the disappointment I feel at the thought of turning them down and shutting myself away in one of the study rooms for an hour. I want to go down to breakfast and get to know them better.


    ¡°Sure. Why not?¡±


    <hr>


    Aisha and Lucy take large helpings of bacon and eggs, and I briefly consider getting some myself: the porridge was a good meal, but I¡¯ve never liked watching other people eat while I have nothing. I settle for a glass of water.


    I want to ask Aisha for her story, but it seems unfair to do that without sharing mine and that isn¡¯t something I have any intention of doing. Instead I settle for picking up some useful gossip on the teachers and their subjects, looking as much for an idea of who I should talk to about Electra as general tips for surviving classes.


    ¡°Alchemy¡¯s the hardest,¡± Lucy says, ¡°at least if you¡¯re a normal person.¡±


    Aisha laughs. ¡°Normal is overrated. Enchantments is worst, for me, but that¡¯s because Latira isn¡¯t suited to it. Your School makes quite a bit of difference in those things.¡±


    ¡°And then there¡¯s CME ¨C Countering Magical Effects ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Electra?¡± I ask wryly.


    ¡°You¡¯ve met her, then. She¡¯s not a bad teacher, most of the time, but you do not get in trouble with her if you value not being reduced to a sobbing heap. And I know you don¡¯t believe me about that, Lucy, but I saw the state Hannah was in after detention with her.¡±


    I don¡¯t get in trouble with any teacher if I can help it, but I resolve to make doubly sure of that with Electra. The idea of being shut in a room alone with her terrifies me.


    ¡°What about Spells?¡± I ask. ¡°That¡¯s what we¡¯ve got first today, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Aisha nods. ¡°It¡¯s not too bad,¡± she says. ¡°It would be a fun class if it had a better teacher.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m half convinced she doesn¡¯t know what she¡¯s talking about,¡± Lucy adds. ¡°And the amount of class time she wastes on silly things¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t spoil the fun for Tallulah, will you?¡±


    Well, that¡¯s reassuring, isn¡¯t it?

 12. Spells

    Between that warning and my inevitable failure to study before nine, I¡¯m not looking forward to Spells.


    Hannah, Aisha and I arrive precisely on time. The classroom seems surprisingly ordinary: I don¡¯t recognise the charts or diagrams on the walls, but the room is laid out in the standard fashion, desks that seat two in neat rows and a blackboard at the front beside which our teacher stands, facing away from us so all I can see is that she¡¯s a small woman with hair turning from dirty blonde to grey.


    There are ten desks, and about half are occupied by one or two students. Hannah and Aisha peel away from me as we walk in to claim a centrally-positioned desk, while I stand awkwardly for a second until Edward catches my eye. He¡¯s sitting alone at the front, giving me a small wave.


    I wave back and cross the classroom to sit next to him, then begin methodically removing my things from my satchel: parchment, quill, ruler, each in its proper place. I don¡¯t quite know whether I should ask about whatever idea he had earlier. Instead I look around at my classmates.


    There are about fifteen of us, equally split between boys and girls. Most are about my age, though there¡¯s one woman who looks maybe twenty sitting alone at the back. I can¡¯t help noticing one of the boys has the cutest curly blond hair.


    They¡¯re all staring at us, some more obviously than others. I guess the new students must stand out a little.


    The teacher turns around and claps her hands together. She¡¯s wearing a floaty pale blue dress which any Genford girl would have got detention for (well, possibly not a few who either sucked up to the teachers or had richer families than most there, but that¡¯s beside the point) and there¡¯s something subtly wrong with her face in a way I can¡¯t quite pin down.


    ¡°Cosmetic enchantments,¡± says Edward in a low voice. ¡°And not the best kind.¡±


    ¡°Well, hello, everyone!¡± she says cheerfully. ¡°You¡¯ll have noticed we¡¯ve got new students with us today. I ¨C ¡° she gestures to herself with one hand ¨C ¡°am the Honourable Felicity Thomas-Richards, though you may of course call me Felicity.¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t judge people too quickly, but I hate her already.


    ¡°And we are joined by Edward ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Please don¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Blackthorn,¡± Felicity finishes, heedless of Edward¡¯s interruption.


    She loses control of the class immediately. Half of them don¡¯t even bother to be subtle about whispering: ¡°Did she just say Blackthorn?¡± ¡°What¡¯s a Blackthorn doing learning basic magic?¡± ¡°Isn¡¯t his father ¨C ¡°


    Edward stares fixedly ahead and does his best to ignore them, but it¡¯s not hard to see how tense he is.


    ¡°On behalf of the class,¡± Felicity continues, ¡°can we just say how deeply sorry we are for what you¡¯ve been through?¡±


    I¡¯m surprised he doesn¡¯t actually flinch at that. I would be crawling under the table and wishing the staring classmates and the teacher who thinks she¡¯s being sympathetic would disappear by now. I want to do that a little myself.


    ¡°The apology is appreciated,¡± says Edward coldly. ¡°The pity is not, and nor is the implication that you have any understanding of what I have been through. I am here to learn, not to have my personal affairs discussed.¡±


    There¡¯s more force behind those words than there would have been if he¡¯d screamed them at the top of his lungs, and I cringe internally: you don¡¯t speak to a teacher that way, no matter how much they deserve it.


    Felicity steps back a little and then replies ¡°Forgive me. And, of course, we also have joining us¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I can¡¯t remember your name?¡±


    Yup. Definitely hate her. ¡°Tallulah,¡± I say through gritted teeth, not trusting my self-control enough to risk saying anything else.


    ¡°Yes, of course, Tallulah. Now, I¡¯m sure we¡¯re all going to do our best to make Edward and Tallulah very welcome, aren¡¯t we?¡±


    There¡¯s a muttered chorus of assent from the class; thankfully Felicity at least isn¡¯t the sort to force them to sound enthusiastic about the prospect. ¡°So,¡± she says. ¡°We will continue our study of the General Animation Spell. I have here a set of strings; you will each take one and cast the spell on it. Take as long as you need to practice and play around. Elsie, dear, would you be so good as to hand them out?¡±


    Elsie is sitting at a desk diagonally behind mine: she has long and slightly unkempt light brown hair and is¡­ not exactly overweight, but noticeably less thin than the rest of the class. She stares at the floor as she walks up to Felicity¡¯s desk and takes the strings, doesn¡¯t meet her classmates¡¯ eyes as she hands them out, and practically cringes as she reaches our table.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say as I take my string from her, hoping to reassure her a little, though I¡¯m probably not the one she¡¯s nervous around. Unless she¡¯s heard I¡¯m Malaina by now.


    Edward thanks her as well, and she manages to stammer out ¡°You¡¯re welcome¡± before retreating to her own desk.


    ¡°And Lizzie ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Elizabeth,¡± corrects the woman at the back in a resigned tone.


    ¡°Would you be so kind as to walk Edward and Tallulah through how to cast the spell? Since you¡¯re all Malaina, you should cast in a similar way.¡±


    Well, it was nice being in a room with people who didn¡¯t know I was Malaina while it lasted.


    ¡°Well, what are you all waiting for?¡± asks Felicity, clapping her hands. ¡°Get to work!¡±


    Edward and I stare blankly at each other as we wait for Elizabeth to join us. She takes her time dragging her chair across the classroom to set it down in front of our desks, and I take the opportunity to study her: she¡¯s a little taller than average, her body angular, and wears an ill-fitting dark grey dress which contrasts sharply with her vivid red hair.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    It¡¯s not usual for Malaina to develop in adults, so I can¡¯t help being a little curious about what caused it in her. Then again, it¡¯s also not usual for Malaina to develop in someone who¡¯s not been exposed to actual trauma.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know much about Siaril,¡± is the first thing she says. If I¡¯m judging her accent right, she¡¯s from the East, near the border with Sirgal ¨C though her high cheekbones and unusually pale skin, not to mention the hair, indicate she has pretty recent Thalian ancestry. ¡°I can¡¯t help you there, Edward.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I don¡¯t need your help there, then.¡± Edward picks up his string and lets it dangle loosely from one hand, and then says, as if quoting from something: ¡°For it is life.¡± He releases the string and it hangs there, unmoving.


    ¡°Right,¡± says Elizabeth. ¡°You don¡¯t need my help with Siaril. Got it.¡±


    Edward ignores her, eyes locked on the string as it begins to move, a slow and sinuous twisting from one end to the other.


    ¡°I ¨C uh ¨C so. Tallulah. I¡¯ll be honest, I¡¯m not sure anything Felicity told me is any use for Malaina casting ¨C ¡°


    My eyes dart frantically across to the teacher in question, but she¡¯s deep in conversation with the blonde girl in robes similar to Edward¡¯s sitting next to Elsie, and doesn¡¯t appear to have heard Elizabeth.


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t care if she hears, okay?¡± Elizabeth says, seeing my glance. ¡°From what little I know, for something like this at least, there aren¡¯t any rules you¡¯re supposed to follow, it¡¯s just what you feel and believe in. Here ¨C ¡° she snaps her fingers sharply and snaps ¡°Attent-ion.¡± Her string floats quickly and smoothly up from the table and holds itself on end, awaiting her next command.


    ¡°My mother was a drill sergeant in the Army,¡± she explains. ¡°I guess the military discipline rubbed off on me somehow, because I cast magic by barking orders at the world.¡± She laughs a little. ¡°Sounds crazy, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C no crazier than anything else about magic.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough.¡±


    I close my eyes and try to think of the right incantation. Elizabeth casts magic by acting as if she were its commanding officer, and from what little I¡¯ve seen of Edward¡¯s work he seems to have an almost religious reverence for it. What about me, then? What is magic to me?


    I remember the only spell I¡¯ve cast so far, the silvery light I created, a light in the ugly darkness. Is that what magic is? A beacon against the night? I don¡¯t think so; that worked before because I was casting a light-spell, not because of some underlying principle.


    So, then: animation. I¡¯m guessing from the name of the spell and the way Edward and Elizabeth manipulate their strings that this is an all-purpose spell for moving and manipulating objects. Am I a puppeteer, then, pulling invisible strings?


    That idea feels instinctively wrong, and not having anything better to work with I trust my instincts. For it is life: that was the incantation Edward used, and it feels a lot closer to what I¡¯m trying to do. By casting this spell, I¡¯m giving life to this string, granting it the power to move according to my direction.


    It falls into place in my mind, and I almost laugh at how simple it is. Incantations aren¡¯t supposed to be complicated: just a single concept, expressed in whatever words feel natural for it.


    I hold out my palm a few inches above the table, fix my eyes on the string, and command it: ¡°Be alive.¡±


    And it obeys me, uncoiling itself to fly up from the table into my hand. Before it can settle itself there and rest, I direct it with a thought and it forms into a spiral, moving slowly upward while twisting itself into tight coils.


    Slow though it¡¯s moving, the ceiling is only a tall man¡¯s height above where it started, so it only takes a few seconds before it can¡¯t go any further up. I jerk my hand to one side and the string turns that way, straightening itself as it does so.


    It feels so easy, so natural. As if it¡¯s right for me to be doing this.


    As if it¡¯s right for me to be a magician.


    <hr>


    The rest of the lesson is surprisingly fun, given Hannah and Aisha¡¯s warnings. Felicity isn¡¯t much of a teacher, it¡¯s true, but everyone seems to enjoy experimenting with the General Animation Spell as much as I do, if not more. She sets us to passing our strings through the circles we make with finger and thumb, weaving them around our fingers, tying them into knots.


    It¡¯s that last where my ability reaches its limits. I¡¯ve never been good with knots even without magic; it took me until I was thirteen to learn how to lace my boots properly. So trying to hold both ends of the string separately in my mind, leave one part still while looping an end through it, never seems to work: I just can¡¯t manage to hold the string in place, and my spell breaks and sends it falling back to the table.


    Edward, unsurprisingly, ties each of the increasingly complex knots Felicity demonstrates without any difficulty, and masters undoing them without touching the string just as easily. ¡°It¡¯s easier with Siaril,¡± he informs me as the ends of the string pull tight a particularly fiendish knot. ¡°I don¡¯t think I could make this one using Malaina.¡±


    That¡¯s probably supposed to be reassuring, but it isn¡¯t: I don¡¯t even understand how the knot fits together, never mind have the ability to create it with magic. Magician I may be, but I¡¯ll never be as good at it as Edward.


    No, says a little voice inside me. Nothing is impossible, if you work hard enough.


    I recognise that voice: it¡¯s the voice that got me out of bed on the worst mornings, when there was nothing I wanted less than another day at Genford. The voice that pushes me onwards.


    The voice that pushed me right over the edge of the precipice.


    <hr>


    Our next class is Magical Theory. Well, for all of us except Edward, anyway. He gives me a little wave before wandering off to fill his free period however someone like him spends his free time.


    I¡¯m just summoning up the courage to approach Elizabeth and ask whether I can sit with her ¨C I¡¯m assuming the two-per-desk setup is usual here and don¡¯t want to sit on my own feeling awkward ¨C when someone approaches me first.


    ¡°Tallulah, isn¡¯t it?¡± she asks, deftly moving into place beside me despite the small crowd going in the same direction and the narrowness of the corridor. It¡¯s the girl who sat next to Elsie, the one Felicity spent so much time talking to. Her accent is the same as Edward¡¯s: the refined speech of the upper class. ¡°Mildred Cavendish. A pleasure to meet you.¡±


    She extends her hand for me to shake. I take it, noting as I do that she¡¯s pretty and moves with the confidence of someone who¡¯s well aware of that. Her robes are trimmed with the same red lace as Edward¡¯s, though the pattern is more extravagant, and her grip on my hand is firm but not uncomfortable.


    She reminds me of a lot of girls I¡¯ve seen at Genford, most of whom wouldn¡¯t even give me the time of day. ¡°I ¨C yes. It¡¯s nice to meet you too,¡± I stammer.


    ¡°How have you found the Academy so far?¡± Mildred asks.


    That isn¡¯t the sort of question that has a simple answer. ¡°It¡¯s not what I expected,¡± I say. ¡°Though I don¡¯t know what I expected, really. I never even thought I¡¯d be in a place like this ¨C ¡°


    Stars, I¡¯m babbling like a child.


    ¡°I suppose it must be quite an adjustment,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m lucky, really, having known magic all my life.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¨C ¡° Siaril, then? I¡¯m about to ask, then realise that¡¯s a stupid question for several reasons: most noble magicians are, and if my theory about the robes I¡¯ve seen several people wearing is right then the colour of the lace indicates the School of a magician. Besides, the Cavendishes are known to be one of the more influential of the old Siaril families ¨C I should have realised that before. ¡°Sorry. Ignore me.¡±


    She laughs. Even her laugh is pretty. ¡°Well,¡± she says, ¡°I hope I¡¯ll be able to help you adjust. If you have questions about any of it that isn¡¯t covered in class, do feel free to ask.¡±


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± I reply. She sounds sincere about it, as well.


    ¡°Will you sit with me in this lesson?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C won¡¯t Elsie ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Oh, Elsie doesn¡¯t mind. Do you, Elsie?¡±


    She directs that last remark over her shoulder to where Elsie is walking just behind us.


    ¡°No ¨C no,¡± says Elsie, ¡°I don¡¯t.¡± I glance back to see her expression, which doesn¡¯t reveal any sign that she does in fact mind.


    ¡°All right, then,¡± I say, but I can¡¯t help being suspicious. It¡¯s easy to see that she¡¯s this class¡¯s equivalent of the most popular girls at Genford, all of whom are rich or pretty or have influential parents. Mildred ticks all three of those boxes.


    And girls like that don¡¯t invite girls like me to sit with them.

 13. Getting to Know People

    If my instincts are right and Mildred is in fact up to something, she doesn¡¯t show it for the whole of the lesson. In fact, she¡¯s remarkably friendly and has no problem helping me where the hour or so of magical theory I taught myself last night isn¡¯t enough for me to understand the current lesson.


    Fortunately I¡¯m not that far behind, since our teacher, who shares with me the dark skin of those whose ancestors were born on a continent far across the Ocean, has an almost poetical tendency which means he spends a substantial amount of class time musing without conclusion on what concepts really mean.


    I don¡¯t mind it, though. I¡¯m no poet, but I try to understand things in a way that isn¡¯t as the mass of equations it seems most magical theory involves. Mildred tells me learning and understanding the mathematics involved is harder than the theory itself.


    Maths has never been even close to my favourite subject, but I¡¯m passable enough at it that I can understand most of this lesson¡¯s material at least, and even find myself enjoying it a little. The work helps me feel a little more grounded, now that I¡¯m actually doing something. A little more like I belong here.


    In that spirit, I accept Mildred¡¯s invitation to spend the half-hour break before our next lesson with her and Elsie. I haven¡¯t worked out the best places to spend breaks here yet (I make a mental note to find and explore the library once I have time) but they seem to know where they¡¯re going: out into the Academy¡¯s gardens and an unseasonably sunny morning.


    I should probably have expected the gardens to be grand, this being a former palace, and grand they certainly are: they stretch almost as far as I can see, with a vast lawn in front of us on which several students are relaxing in small groups, and in the distance what appears to be a small lake. Flowerbeds run along the sides of the building next to us, though whatever¡¯s growing in them isn¡¯t blooming at this time of year.


    ¡°Nice, isn¡¯t it?¡± Mildred says.


    ¡°That¡¯s an understatement.¡±


    ¡°Yes, even my father¡¯s estate isn¡¯t quite so large. I do enjoy it here.¡±


    I do my best to hide a wince at my father¡¯s estate, but I¡¯ve never been good at concealing my feelings so I ask quickly ¡°Where are we going?¡±


    ¡°The caf¨¦,¡± Mildred says, setting off down a gravel path across the lawn. Elsie and I follow.


    I raise my eyebrows. ¡°This place ¨C no, of course it has a caf¨¦, it has everything else. Why is there a caf¨¦ attached to a school?¡±


    ¡°The Royal Academy is more a university than a school, really. Its more advanced courses are certainly comparable to degree-level in their difficulty and specialisation, and many magical researchers work here as well. And that many people working and studying need a steady supply of snacks and drinks nearby. The catering staff are excellent, but providing meals is a full-time task and they can¡¯t be expected to produce smaller things as well. Hence, the caf¨¦.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not officially run by the Academy,¡± Elsie adds, ¡°the couple who run it work for themselves. So we have to pay ourselves, but it¡¯s not that expensive.¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Mildred adds, turning right onto a stone path set a little above the grass, shortly before we reach the lake, ¡°yours are on me today.¡±


    She means well, I¡¯m sure, and she can certainly afford it, but I can¡¯t help feeling a little resentful anyway. I¡¯m perfectly capable of paying for my own snacks, cakes and drinks.


    The path leads down a slight hill towards a round stone building, which looks small compared to the sheer scale of the Academy itself but is still at least the size of my house.


    ¡°It used to be the servants¡¯ temple, back when this was a palace,¡± Mildred explains. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t do to have a prince and a scullery-maid worshipping together.¡±


    I scrutinise her tone for any trace of sarcasm and find none.


    ¡°The main temple is still in use for its original purpose,¡± she goes on. ¡°Services are at sunrise and sunset every day ¨C you do worship, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes.¡± Though not as often as I should. It¡¯s hard to persuade myself to take an hour to listen to a service or find a sense of inner peace and communion with the stars when I have three essays due in as many days. Besides, it¡¯s never really moved my spirit in the way people say it does.


    Years of unanswered prayers mean I don¡¯t have much faith left. If the stars really are watching over and guiding me, wouldn¡¯t they have helped me before it was too late?


    ¡°Good. We could go together tonight, if you want?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I reply, and then move back to conversational ground I¡¯m more comfortable with and interested in: ¡°You know a lot about the history of this place.¡±


    ¡°Only a little,¡± Mildred deflects. ¡°Mostly about how the Royal Academy was founded and why this site in particular was chosen. I could recommend you a few books if you want to find out more?¡±


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°That would be great,¡± I reply, smiling a little.


    <hr>


    Much refreshed by our drinks and cakes, the three of us arrive at my first Conjurations and Transformations lesson together, a couple of minutes early. There¡¯s no sign of the teacher, but about half the class are already seated, including Edward, who¡¯s alone. He looks up as the door swings shut behind us, and I can see the disappointment in his eyes before he snaps his gaze back to the papers he¡¯s spread out on his desk.


    ¡°I won¡¯t split you two up any more,¡± I say to Mildred and Elsie. ¡°Thanks for the drink.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± Mildred replies. ¡°Just let me know if you want to do that again at some point.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, I will.¡± I leave them and walk over to Edward¡¯s desk.


    He looks up with narrowed eyes as I lower my bag onto the floor and pull out my chair. ¡°You had a nice break, then?¡±


    I can¡¯t quite work out what his problem is, but it¡¯s clear that he has one with the idea of me, Mildred and Elsie entering the classroom together, smiling and laughing. ¡°Yes, thank you.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take you for the type to spend time with Mildred Cavendish.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t take her for the type to spend time with me,¡± I reply. ¡°But she¡¯s¡­¡± I hesitate, trying to find the right word. ¡°Friendly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she is.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I ask, finding to my surprise I¡¯m angry. What business is it of his?


    ¡°I know her,¡± Edward says. ¡°Not well, but we¡¯ve attended a few of the same events. Mildred Cavendish is a natural-born politician.¡±


    ¡°¡­and?¡±


    ¡°And that means she¡¯s more than capable of being friendly to anyone, regardless of how much she actually likes them.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C She¡¯s not ¨C ¡° I take a breath to calm myself and find words. ¡°People aren¡¯t always scheming and trying to use you, okay? Sometimes they just want to be nice!¡±


    He sighs and looks away, and I¡¯m about to say something I¡¯ll probably regret when our teacher appears. Literally: one minute the space just in front of the blackboard is empty and the next it¡¯s filled by a tall woman with pale brown hair and an unfortunately large nose that I can¡¯t help staring at.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this place warded against teleportation?¡± I ask Edward quietly.


    ¡°It is, but it has a Garnett network set up ¨C basically that means you can teleport between specific locations within the building, if you have the right ward permiss ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Hello, everyone!¡± the teacher interrupts. ¡°For those of you who don¡¯t already know me, I¡¯m Alexandra, the fact I have the same name as the High Princess is a coincidence and I do not appreciate people joking about it. Now, recall that last lesson we began to work on the conjuration of water¡­¡±


    <hr>


    The conjuration of water is easily harder than any other magic I¡¯ve tried so far. Edward has a ready explanation for that, unsurprisingly: ¡°Conjuration requires the ability to be able to precisely envisage and understand what you create, which is extremely hard even for experienced magicians. There¡¯s a reason that magicians don¡¯t live in palaces they conjure. Other than legal restrictions, that is.¡±


    Not that all of that prevents him from entirely filling his glass with water by the end of the lesson, while I¡¯ve only managed a few drops that cling sadly to my glass¡¯s side.


    We¡¯re given permission to drink our conjured water at the end of the lesson; Edward offers me his, but I stubbornly refuse. Several of my classmates smile or make noises of pleasant surprise as they sip.


    ¡°The water we take from rivers or skies is necessarily impure,¡± explains Alexandra, ¡°even that from the highest mountain springs. Often to the extent that it can carry illness and must be heated or strained before being safe to drink, but even when water is relatively safe its impurities will affect the taste. Conjured water, in contrast, carries none of that impurity. A lot of magicians have quite profitable side businesses conjuring water for those rich enough to afford it. I should warn you that first, excessive conjuration is one of the easiest ways to achieve magical burnout, and second, it is strictly illegal for unqualified magicians to make any profit through use of their magic.¡±


    I¡¯m enough of a lawyer to recognise the obvious loopholes in that last statement, and assume that Alexandra is oversimplifying because magical law isn¡¯t part of what she teaches rather than that the law actually has those obvious loopholes. At least, I hope that¡¯s the case.


    <hr>


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about earlier,¡± says Edward as we set our lunch trays down at the end of one of the tables, as far away from the larger groups as we can get.


    ¡°I ¨C oh.¡± The intense focus demanded by conjuration has stolen my anger.


    ¡°I should clarify that I don¡¯t think people in general are always scheming and plotting. I think Mildred Cavendish in particular is always scheming and plotting. There¡¯s always been a rivalry between our families ¨C one-sided, of course, none of my ancestors would have ever considered her ancestors anything close to equals. And for almost as long there¡¯s been talk of settling matters with an alliance, so when there happen to be a son and a daughter of about the same age¡­ well.¡±


    I¡¯m not an idiot; I know marriage among the nobility is most often for politics rather than love, but it¡¯s quite different when it¡¯s two of your sixteen-year-old classmates concerned. I say nothing, trying to pretend this is a perfectly normal conversation for me to be having.


    ¡°So I know her,¡± Edward continues simply. ¡°Most likely she saw me sitting with a strange woman and decided to try and find out who you were and what there was between us.¡±


    ¡°You mean she thinks I¡¯m some sort of rival for you?¡±


    Edward shrugs.


    ¡°Are you going to marry her?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    I blink a few times. Right. Politics. He probably can¡¯t just say what he thinks of her in a public place if there¡¯s some sort of¡­ negotiation going on.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he repeats.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I lie. ¡°I understand.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I ¨C don¡¯t mind if you want to keep spending time with her, but¡­ be careful. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I would have been careful anyway; once I set aside the anger about his interfering, his warnings add to my own Genford-trained social instincts. He might even be right about Mildred.


    But she¡¯s been nothing but friendly and nice so far, and just because I know she could be up to something doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to start turning down all her invitations to socialise.


    <hr>


    We talk about lessons until we¡¯ve finished eating, but Edward stands to go as soon as we¡¯re done. ¡°I have a project to work on,¡± he says.


    ¡°Oh? What fundamental law of magic are you breaking now?¡±


    ¡°No Blackthorn ¨C no-one since the Mages ¨C has ever broken a Fundamental Law. They¡¯re the ones that have been proven to be actual limitations that exist because of the nature of reality, not because people believe they do.¡±


    My lips twitch in amusement. ¡°All right, what non-fundamental law of magic are you breaking?¡±


    He laughs. I might be imagining it, but it sounds like there¡¯s a faint note of bitterness to it. ¡°None of my family have invented new magic before their eighteenth birthday, and I hardly think I¡¯m a better magician than all of them. No, this isn¡¯t a magical project. It¡¯s ¨C ¡° He hesitates.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± he says slowly, ¡°would you be prepared to help me?¡±

 14. Statement

    Edward refuses to explain the details of the mysterious project there and then, and instead leads me to a private meeting room he¡¯s reserved for the day. I wasn¡¯t even aware the Academy had private meeting rooms, much less that they were available to students. Then again, I couldn¡¯t reserve one: they¡¯re only for doctorate-level students and those with a special dispensation from the board of governors.


    It turns out getting a special dispensation from the board of governors isn¡¯t too hard when you¡¯re Henry Blackthorn¡¯s son.


    ¡°The privacy wards aren¡¯t ideal, naturally,¡± he says as if to someone who¡¯s perfectly used to contemplating what level of privacy wards are needed for her next conversation. ¡°But they¡¯ll keep out magical bugs and block sound from travelling in or out, which is good enough for our purposes.¡±


    ¡°Do you expect to be spied on, then?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s unlikely, but I have to take sensible precautions.¡±


    Well, if he says so, though I¡¯m still not convinced we need to go to all this bother unless his project involves breaking the Academy¡¯s rules, if not the law. And I don¡¯t want to be involved in anything illegal.


    The private rooms are on the sixth floor, and Edward climbs the stairs at a march that leaves me short of breath by the time we reach it. Looking up while on the staircase is a much less disorienting feeling from this high, with the ceiling only three or four times higher than that of a normal building, close enough that I can properly appreciate the ornately carved laurels that form a great circle over our heads. I don¡¯t look down.


    ¡°Here we are,¡± says Edward, already a few steps down the west corridor. ¡°Room Three.¡±


    By the time I¡¯ve jogged over to him, he¡¯s pulled a palm-sized wooden disc from a pocket of his robes and is inserting it into a similarly-shaped space in the panelling of the room¡¯s door, which seems much newer than most of those I¡¯ve seen.


    When he removes his hand from the door, the disc stays where it is with only a thin crack marking it as separate from the door, and after a second it swings smoothly open: it opens outward, so I have to dodge out of the way to avoid being hit.


    I¡¯m not even that surprised any more, just a little surprised that I¡¯m not surprised. Is it this easy to get used to magic?


    The room is small, no larger than my bedroom back home, and contains only a large wooden table and half a dozen cushioned chairs spread around it. It¡¯s dark, too: we¡¯re close enough to the centre of the building that none of the walls border the outside and so there can¡¯t be windows. There¡¯s no enchanted light or even candles in evidence, either.


    ¡°Lights should come on once we shut the door,¡± says Edward, stepping inside. ¡°And if they don¡¯t work, we¡¯re magicians.¡±


    I silence the little voice telling me that I shouldn¡¯t be entering a dark room with someone I barely know, follow him, and shut the door behind me.


    It¡¯s pitch black for a single moment, and then the enchanted light abruptly turns itself on. It¡¯s a large glass hemisphere attached to the ceiling, and brighter than any other enchanted light I¡¯ve seen ¨C it hurts my eyes to look directly up at it, even.


    ¡°So,¡± says Edward, dropping his satchel onto the nearest chair. ¡°It¡¯s about what we discussed over breakfast.¡±


    The newspapers, and what they say ¨C and don¡¯t say ¨C about his Fall. I gave him an idea of some sort this morning, didn¡¯t I? It seems like it¡¯s been far more than half a day since then.


    ¡°My dad isn¡¯t going to do anything. Both because he can¡¯t be seen to be influencing the papers and because¡­ honestly, I don¡¯t think he cares if people think he¡¯s a ¨C you know.¡±


    Abuser. Monster. Villain. I do know.


    ¡°But you do care.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Not just about his reputation. About mine. I¡¯m not a victim, not of my father or of ¨C anyone else.¡±


    Am I imagining that fractional pause? Does that mean there¡¯s someone out there who hurt him to the point of Falling?


    I¡¯m reminded of what he told me last night: Have you never been angry enough at someone to make them want to hurt? I find to my surprise that I feel that way about whoever might have done that to him.


    ¡°And you don¡¯t want to be portrayed as one,¡± I say after a fractional pause of my own.


    ¡°No. So I need to start telling my own story. I can¡¯t be interviewed, or take questions ¨C that would end in either an active episode or the revelation of state secrets ¨C but I can give the papers a statement.¡±


    He sighs and opens his bag, then begins pulling out sheet after sheet of parchment, ripped, torn, scribbled on or torn into a ball. ¡°At least, I thought I could. Turns out writing a carefully-worded statement that gets across what I want to say without revealing anything I don¡¯t is harder than it looks.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t been taught how?¡± I ask, a little surprised.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°My dad doesn¡¯t even handle most of it himself, he has employees who do that for him. I guess he didn¡¯t think it was necessary for me to learn just yet.¡±


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°And you¡¯re asking me to help you with this?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°My dad¡¯s employees work for him. They won¡¯t take orders from me. And you seemed against the papers, and if you¡¯re ¨C if you were going to be a lawyer,¡± he corrects quickly, ¡°you¡¯re more qualified for this than I am at least.¡±


    That is to say: not even remotely qualified in any way whatsoever. I suddenly find myself laughing. Me. Not even a lawyer-in-training, without even my Certificate of Education, having completely failed at that. Being asked to write a statement, for a Blackthorn, to be released to all the country¡¯s major newspapers.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Edward after a few seconds have passed and my maniacal laughter hasn¡¯t stopped. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    No. No, I am not okay. Either the world is mad, or I am. I feel as if I¡¯m watching a girl laughing at the sheer absurdity of her situation through a windowpane ¨C


    Oh. This is a Malaina episode.


    I probably need to stop it before it becomes an active one.


    There isn¡¯t any urgency to that thought.


    How am I supposed to stop it, anyway? Focus on my breathing. Yeah, that¡¯s totally something I can do while overcome by this mad laughter.


    Something leaps across the room and throws itself around me. I flinch for a moment before I realise what it is.


    Edward. Edward is hugging me, holding me tightly, giving me something to cling to.


    We stay like that for a long while, until my heartbeat slows and my breathing calms and I feel like myself again.


    ¡°How¡­¡± I ask finally.


    ¡°How did I know that would work?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°My dad said that when someone¡¯s in an episode, a good way to bring them out of it is to do something¡­ something unexpected, but not harmful. I don¡¯t know why that helps ¨C I¡¯d guess it¡¯s because Malaina expects a particular set of responses, and getting one that¡¯s far enough outside that can be enough of a surprise that it shocks you out of it. Hugging you was the first thing I thought of. I¡¯m sorry if you didn¡¯t want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No. I don¡¯t mind. Thank you.¡±


    He releases me slowly and takes a step or two back so we¡¯re separated by the normal sort of distance between conversation partners. ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°Your dad knows about Malaina, then? I mean, of course he does, he¡¯s a Royal Magician, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°About how to cope with it? Yes. He told me he had a friend who was Malaina once.¡±


    There¡¯s an awful note of finality to that once. Given what we¡¯re talking about, I can¡¯t help wondering if this friend became mala sia. Would I know about it, if they did? Probably not unless it was within the last few years.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s classified. I¡¯m quoting him there, I don¡¯t know any more than you do. Everything he doesn¡¯t want to answer is classified.¡±


    There¡¯s a faint note of tension there, but I don¡¯t comment on it.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about why¡­¡±


    Why I had an episode because of his asking for my help with this project? Not particularly. Stars, I barely know why myself. ¡°No. Sorry. I can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah. Don¡¯t apologise to me. Don¡¯t apologise for Malaina.¡±


    ¡°But I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Apologising,¡± Edward continues, ignoring whatever I¡¯m trying to say, ¡°implies that it is your fault. It is not.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he agrees. ¡°I don¡¯t. But whatever happened, whatever is happening, blaming yourself for Malaina is never the right choice.¡±


    He really doesn¡¯t understand. ¡°I can¡¯t help you.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not¡­ Stars.¡± It¡¯s harder than I thought it would be to explain what should be blindingly obvious. ¡°I¡¯m a fifteen-year-old girl. A normal fifteen-year-old girl. Well,¡± I correct myself, ¡°not entirely normal, but¡­ not nobility, not a Blackthorn or a prodigy or someone who can just do something like what you¡¯re asking as if it¡¯s nothing.¡±


    Edward stares at me for a moment as if he¡¯s just been reminded that normal people do in fact exist.


    ¡°Why did you ask me, anyway?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± He shakes his head. ¡°This is stupid. I shouldn¡¯t have. Just promise you won¡¯t tell anyone, okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡± I turn to go, reach out towards the door handle, and stop.


    He hugged me. He brought me out of a Malaina episode. That¡¯s twice now, after the box incident yesterday. Don¡¯t I owe him at least something for that?


    Can I really just leave him here when he needs help?


    Can I really help him?


    Maybe not. But I can at least try.


    I turn around again, so I¡¯m facing him. ¡°I can¡¯t promise anything,¡± I say, ¡°but I¡¯ll do what I can.¡±


    He controls his features, but not quickly enough that I don¡¯t see the pure relief that spreads across them for an instant. ¡°So,¡± he says, ¡°how do you want to do this?¡±


    I¡¯m still wearing my satchel, so I begin by pulling out quill and parchment. ¡°What¡­ what do you want to say?¡±


    ¡°If I knew that, I wouldn¡¯t need your help, would I?¡± There¡¯s no edge to his tone; his voice is¡­ almost playful, as if he¡¯s bantering with a friend.


    ¡°Not exact words,¡± I clarify. ¡°But¡­ general sentiments. Ideas.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my dad¡¯s fault,¡± he says immediately. ¡°He¡¯s a good father.¡±


    I can think of many ways to describe Lord Henry Blackthorn, but good father isn¡¯t among them. ¡°Is he?¡± I ask without thinking.


    Edward doesn¡¯t answer for a long moment, and I worry I¡¯ve asked something too personal, but then he finally replies ¡°He tries. But¡­ he has two jobs, either of which would consume a man¡¯s entire life, and he does both well.¡±


    And there are a scant few hours left over for his son.


    I can relate to that a lot.


    ¡°Got it,¡± I say, not wanting to linger on uncomfortable territory. ¡°The terrifying Lord Blackthorn is secretly a good dad, and he had nothing to do with your Fall.¡± As soon as I say that the implication of telling it to the country is obvious. He¡¯s not going to like it. ¡°People are going to have questions.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not doing this to redeem him in the eyes of the people,¡± Edward says. ¡°Even I know when something is completely impossible.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ not what I meant. If not him,¡± I ask, ¡°then why?¡±


    His face twists into a grimace. ¡°That¡¯s classified.¡±


    ¡°You mean you don¡¯t want to talk about it. I understand ¨C really ¨C I¡¯m willing to bet whatever story you have isn¡¯t as humiliating as mine ¨C but people will ask that, and if you don¡¯t have an answer¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­then no-one will believe me,¡± he finishes. ¡°Which is a problem, because I didn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t want to talk about it, I meant it is actually classified and telling the papers is not remotely an option.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agree. ¡°That is a problem.¡±


    ¡°And I can¡¯t lie about it ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Obviously ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Because that would be stupid when people desperately looking for any legitimate accusations they can stick to my family start fact-checking it.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing.


    ¡°What?¡± asks Edward, but he¡¯s smiling a little too.


    ¡°I thought you were objecting to lying because, you know, it¡¯s morally wrong?¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°What¡¯s the point of being a Blackthorn if you can¡¯t have questionable morals occasionally? But that doesn¡¯t help us, and outright stating it¡¯s classified is as good as an admission I¡¯m hiding something.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ it won¡¯t work?¡± I can¡¯t help feeling a little relieved at the idea, and immediately hate myself for that thought.


    He shakes his head. ¡°We¡¯ll just have to let people ask questions. I think we can still convince at least some, if it¡¯s persuasive enough.¡±


    ¡°You mean if I¡¯m persuasive enough,¡± I say flatly.


    ¡°If we are. And we will be.¡±


    Stars help me, I almost believe him.

 15. Royal Magicians and Villains

    We¡¯re caught up in working on the statement for long enough that we nearly miss our next class, Magical Law and Culture. Fortunately its teacher, a young man with scruffy dark hair who introduces himself simply as Sam, doesn¡¯t seem to mind our arriving seconds before the lesson starts and somewhat out of breath.


    ¡°So!¡± says Sam. ¡°I¡¯ll give our new students a shortened version of the introductory speech. This class and its syllabus, as decreed by the Board of Governors, are boring as a starless sky.¡±


    Great, he¡¯s that kind of teacher, desperate enough to relate to his students that he takes the stars in vain.


    ¡°Fortunately for you, I don¡¯t believe in memorising facts and details as a way of learning. My classes will involve a lot of discussion, which you are expected to contribute to. Raise your hand if you have a question or something to contribute, and remember there is no such thing as a stupid question!¡±


    There is very much such a thing as a stupid question.


    ¡°Now, since we have a future Royal Magician ¨C at least one, I should say ¨C here, I thought it would be good to start our study of that today. Who can tell me what the Royal Magicians are? Yes, Daniel?¡±


    So that¡¯s Cute-Blond-Boy¡¯s name. It suits him. ¡°They¡¯re the king¡¯s magical advisors.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s correct, but could you expand a bit more on that?¡±


    ¡°They¡­¡± Daniel hesitates a little. ¡°Don¡¯t they investigate unexplained magical events? And I think they sit in Parliament?¡±


    ¡°Right on both counts! Yes, the Royal Magicians have the title of Lord, which entitles them to a Parliamentary seat, and investigating unexplained magical events is indeed one of their responsibilities, as well as sitting on the High Council and advising the King on magical matters. Who can tell me any of their other responsibilities? Elsie?¡±


    Elsie mumbles something too quiet for me to hear.


    ¡°Speak up a bit, would you?¡±


    ¡°They maintain the wards on the City,¡± Elsie says, only a little louder.


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right! It¡¯s their duty to make sure that the wards are intact and working as intended, and they are also in charge of the wards that protect Parliament, the Central Bank and the Abbey Royal. Not, however, the Round Palace. Can anyone tell me why?¡±


    Edward sighs a little, and after a moment I realise what Sam is leading towards and why it would frustrate him. I raise my hand, but Sam has already called on Mildred.


    ¡°It would give them too much power,¡± she says. ¡°Control of the Round Palace ward network would make it trivially easy to act against the King.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s exactly it. Even now people are very wary of giving too much power to any one magician, particularly ¨C ¡° he breaks off with a glance at Edward.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be offended if you say Blackthorns,¡± Edward says flatly. ¡°Though for the record my father has no designs on the throne.¡±


    ¡°Duly noted,¡± says Sam, sounding if anything slightly amused. ¡°Now, how are Royal Magicians appointed?¡±


    I raise my hand; I¡¯ve encountered this a few times in my extra-curricular reading.


    ¡°Yes, Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°A Royal Magician is entitled to choose their own successor, with the approval of the King, and the chosen successor takes office when their predecessor either dies or retires. Though retirement isn¡¯t usual, I think.¡±


    ¡°What restrictions are there on the choice?¡±


    ¡°Well, it has to be a qualified magician of the same School, and a citizen of Rasin of course, but other than that... I don¡¯t think there are any?¡±


    ¡°No, there aren¡¯t, which ¨C yes, Jake?¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it different for the Blackthorns, though? Because Siaril is hereditary?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll defer to the representative of that family here, Edward?¡±


    ¡°No, the same rules apply. It¡¯s just that given the option people tend to prefer family to follow in their footsteps, and somewhere along the line it became enough of a tradition for the position to stay in the family that it might as well be the law. We don¡¯t always follow strict inheritance structures, though ¨C that¡¯s actually why I¡¯m planning to succeed my father, despite the fact my cousin is the daughter of his older brother. She doesn¡¯t want the job.¡±


    And you do? I would have asked that if it were just the two of us, but that¡¯s not a conversation for the middle of a lesson.


    Besides, of course he wants the job. It¡¯s what he¡¯s good at, what he¡¯s been preparing for his entire life.


    Just like I want to be a lawyer.


    Sometimes what you tell yourself you want isn¡¯t the same as what you really want.


    So what, I ask myself, do I really want?


    I don¡¯t have an answer, and while I¡¯m lost in wondering about it Sam has moved on to a discussion of the rights and privileges that come with being a Royal Magician. Mildred knows the precise annual salary the position earns, which is more than the tuition fees for five years at Genford plus the cost of our house. That explains something about where the Blackthorns¡¯ money came from, if they¡¯ve held the position for centuries.


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The rest of the class are looking at Edward in a new light. Everyone knows that the richest people in the Kingdom earn more money in a day than the poorest could hope to make in a lifetime, but something about sitting in the same classroom as someone who will one day be richer than anyone¡¯s wildest dreams makes it feel a lot less fair.


    ¡°This is substantially higher than the money paid to any minister or general for their services to the Kingdom,¡± Sam says. ¡°Why is that? Jake?¡±


    Jake is the boy who sits next to Daniel, tall and broad-shouldered. ¡°Well ¨C I mean ¨C it¡¯s not really the same thing, is it?¡±


    ¡°Elaborate?¡±


    ¡°Ministers and generals, they¡¯re very important but they¡¯re not nobility like the Royal Magicians. Well, a lot of them are, but not because of being a minister or general.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s true, but most nobles have private incomes as large as that, which would mean they don¡¯t really need ¨C ¡°


    I raise my hand.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s because they can¡¯t own land. Wait, no,¡± I correct myself, having started talking before the thought was fully formed. ¡°Can¡¯t be landlords. That was one of the terms of the settlement after the Second Civil War, that no magician can charge others to live on their property. It nearly provoked another Civil War, given how many powerful magical families objected to it, but Charles the Ruthless ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Yes,¡± Sam interrupts, ¡°thank you. This class is meant to cover the present state of affairs, fascinating though the history of this kingdom is.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say, and shut my mouth firmly.


    ¡°Having said that, you are correct. The vast majority of an ordinary noble¡¯s income will come from rents and taxes paid to them by those living on their land, and magicians are barred from that form of income. A lot of the old Siaril families faded from high society because of that, and those that survive do so mainly by the production of enchanted items or otherwise using their magic for profit. And we¡¯ll discuss that in a few weeks.¡±


    It''s a good lesson, in the end: I¡¯m surprised how much I find myself enjoying it. Sam isn¡¯t anywhere near as bad as I thought from his introduction. Maybe he should be the one I talk to about Electra? He seems the most approachable so far.


    Countering Magical Effects is our final lesson of today, and everyone is at least a little nervous, to judge by the whispers that run through the group as we walk through the corridors together. I¡¯m extremely nervous.


    Mildred steps into the small gap Edward and I have left between us. ¡°Edward!¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s so nice to see you again!¡±


    ¡°A pleasure,¡± Edward agrees in a neutral tone.


    ¡°I wondered if I might give you this?¡± She hands him a small letter in a cream-coloured envelope, and while he¡¯s opening it asks ¡°How have you both been finding classes so far?¡±


    ¡°Quite fun, actually,¡± I admit. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect to enjoy magic as much as I did.¡±


    Edward removes a small card from the envelope, studies it for a second and then says ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I have a prior engagement.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± asks Mildred archly.


    ¡°Yes ¨C yes, I promised Tallulah I¡¯d show her the City that afternoon.¡±


    Edward promised me no such thing on any afternoon. Still, if he doesn¡¯t want to accept Mildred¡¯s invitation but can¡¯t just tell her that ¨C ¡°Yes, he did, but we can ¨C ¡° I shut up quickly.


    ¡°My apologies,¡± Edward says blandly.


    ¡°Such a pity. Your presence will be sorely missed.¡±


    And then we¡¯re outside Electra¡¯s classroom, which puts an end to the conversation. We file in without speaking and make our way to our desks, Edward and I claiming one at the front despite this being one of the few classes in which I¡¯d much prefer to sit at the back.


    I was half-expecting Electra¡¯s classroom to have the same black d¨¦cor as her office, but it seems¡­ ordinary. That¡¯s almost more unsettling than the blackness. There¡¯s no sign of her, though we are a minute or two early.


    Edward slides the card Mildred gave him across the table to me. I take it and study it closely: in large, elegant loopy handwriting, Lord Cavendish and his daughter cordially invite the Honourable Edward Blackthorn to their annual Harvest Ball, to be held on the eighth day of the Hunter¡¯s Moon ¨C that¡¯s this Sunday, only three days away.


    And he¡¯s prepared to lie to get out of it.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he says in a barely audible whisper. ¡°I¡¯ll explain later.¡±


    I nod once and slide the card back to him.


    I¡¯ve only been in this class for a few hours, but I¡¯ve started to get used to the sound of half a dozen different conversations at different desks in these minutes before class starts. That¡¯s what makes the utter silence that fills the room now so eerie. They¡¯re terrified of Electra.


    So am I, a little.


    The clock in the corner ticks as if it¡¯s desperately trying to fill the silence by becoming ever louder.


    And then Electra appears, sitting relaxed in her chair at the front of the room with one ankle resting on the opposite knee. I don¡¯t dare ask Edward, but I¡¯m reasonably sure that whatever a Garnett network actually is, it can¡¯t do something like that.


    She stands slowly, as if savouring our dread ¨C no, she is savouring our dread, that¡¯s what she does. ¡°Good afternoon,¡± she drawls. ¡°I am¡­ pleased to see you all made it on time.¡±


    The emphasis she puts on that word suggests she wants nothing more than for someone to not make it on time so that she can make them pay for it in some creatively painful way.


    Stars, she¡¯s acting like the villain of a copper-tale, and that¡¯s not even the most annoying part: that¡¯s the fact that it¡¯s working.


    ¡°Now,¡± Electra continues, her gaze drifting over the class and occasionally fixing on one of us, ¡°since you are all such diligent students, I have no doubt that you have all completed your assigned reading and are prepared to answer questions on it.¡±


    I haven¡¯t completed the assigned reading. I don¡¯t even know what the assigned reading is supposed to be. Electra knows I can¡¯t have had time to do it yet, it would be horribly unfair for her to pick on me about it.


    The problem is that I don¡¯t think it being horribly unfair would stop her.


    ¡°Or¡­ would anyone care to correct me?¡±


    The silence returns, with an even more dangerous edge to it.


    I raise my hand.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Electra. ¡°You have not completed the assigned reading?¡±


    What was I thinking a second ago? This is a bad idea, I should have just kept my head down and hoped she wouldn¡¯t call on me, anything is better than having her looking at me like this ¨C


    ¡°No, ma¡¯am. I haven¡¯t.¡±


    Another long moment of silence. Then, slowly, she smiles. ¡°Of course you haven¡¯t. I doubt anyone who slept last night could have in the time you¡¯ve had available. And for future reference? Don¡¯t call me ma¡¯am. If you must go in for formal titles, I much prefer Your Darkness.¡±


    Someone bursts into choking laughter. I realise to my horror that it¡¯s me.


    Oh, stars. What have I got myself into?


    Once I¡¯ve controlled myself, I glance over at Edward, hoping for some reassurance that he finds this as crazy as I do, but he doesn¡¯t notice me: he¡¯s staring fixedly at a point a few feet behind and to the left of Electra.


    Surely he wouldn¡¯t be seriously rattled by any of this ¨C I mean, nervous, yes, but something she said has really got to him. I can¡¯t understand what, though: she barely said anything that wasn¡¯t villain-speak and he¡¯s smart enough to realise that can¡¯t be real.


    Can it?

 16. Library

    Electra is actually a surprisingly good teacher when she¡¯s not trying to terrify her students: she has a way of explaining things that makes them seem simple even when they¡¯re clearly not and breaks down the method of spellcasting in much more detail than any of the other teachers. It probably helps that no-one dares give her anything less than their full attention.


    We learn a simple purging-spell which will remove enchantments from an object (¡°don¡¯t try it on anything that you don¡¯t want to stop working, and be aware that some more advanced enchantments have countermeasures which can be quite nasty¡±). It¡¯s surprisingly satisfying to suck the magic from a hovering quill or an unnaturally colourful scrap of cloth.


    By unspoken agreement Edward and I return directly to the private meeting room once the lesson finishes, it being our last of the day.


    ¡°Thanks for playing along about me showing you the City,¡± he says the moment the door closes behind us and the enchanted light fills the room.


    ¡°You wanted to avoid the Harvest Ball that badly?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No ¨C well, yes. But that¡¯s not the point. It¡¯s politics. Lord Cavendish invites my father every year, and he declines every year. So if I go without him¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­then you¡¯re telling everyone that you¡¯re not your father. Isn¡¯t that what you want?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple. Nothing is that simple. There¡¯s a difference between not being an extension of my father and not being ¨C not being a loyal son. Anyway,¡± he adds, ¡°I¡¯d far rather show you the City than go, regardless of any politics.¡±


    He says it so casually, but it¡¯s anything but casual for me. No-one at Genford would ever have turned down an invitation like that in favour of me. ¡°We¡¯re actually going to do that, then?¡±


    ¡°Well, if I¡¯m seen not doing it then I lied to get out of attending.¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± I point out.


    ¡°Yes, but being caught lying is worse. You didn¡¯t have other plans?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°None that can¡¯t be rearranged.¡± None at all, in fact, other than finding the library and catching up on the lessons I¡¯ve missed. ¡°What did Electra say that rattled you?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± asks Edward in a remarkably good impression of someone who doesn¡¯t have any idea what I¡¯m talking about.


    ¡°At the beginning of the lesson. You were staring into space.¡±


    He forces a laugh. ¡°Just contemplating whether my sanity is going to survive this year. Anyway, we don¡¯t have long if we want to make tomorrow¡¯s papers.¡±


    As a distraction attempt, that¡¯s not too subtle, but knowing what he¡¯s doing doesn¡¯t make it any less effective. Because he¡¯s right, and also because it¡¯s one thing writing this but the thought of actually publishing it is quite another.


    It takes a while for us to settle on precisely what to write. It ends up being a simple thing at its core: Whatever else you can say, I know that I love my father and he loves me, and he would never hurt me.


    ¡°Happy?¡± he asks as I lay down my quill at the end of the eighth draft.


    ¡°It¡¯s your statement. Are you happy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than anything I could have written, and it says what I want it to say. You wrote it, so you decide whether it¡¯s finished.¡±


    I stare up at the ceiling for a moment and then hastily avert my eyes from the brightness of the enchanted light. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ as good as I can make it.¡±


    That¡¯s not what he asked, and we both know it.


    ¡°It¡¯s all right if you don¡¯t want to publish it,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°Is it?¡± I ask. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I wouldn¡¯t make you go through with something like that if you didn¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°So if I say no, then we just¡­¡±


    ¡°Burn everything we worked on and forget this ever happened? Yes.¡±


    My mind snags on the word burn, and I remember the page from Ruby¡¯s workbook. How the flames danced across it and it shrivelled away to nothing in seconds. How easy it is to destroy.


    That¡¯s not the point. I imagine thousands of people reading what I¡¯ve written, finding the flaws that I can¡¯t see now but will be blindingly obvious once it¡¯s too late to fix them. I imagine them not believing a word of it.


    Then I imagine no-one reading it because it¡¯s reduced to ashes and memory, and no-one ever knowing Edward¡¯s story. Everyone believing that he¡¯s just another victim of his evil father.


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯ll make a difference?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I hope so.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it,¡± I say before I can convince myself not to.


    Edward smiles.


    <hr>


    Edward has a copy-quill, which I shouldn¡¯t even be surprised about any more. That makes producing a dozen copies of the statement to be sent out easy enough, but it¡¯s still nearly six after noon by the time we¡¯re done. I go down to dinner on my own while he goes about getting the statements posted.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    It¡¯s busier than yesterday, and there¡¯s a small queue of students waiting to be served. I join the end of it and find myself standing directly behind a familiar shock of red hair. ¡°Hi, Elizabeth,¡± I say.


    She turns quickly, startled. ¡°Oh ¨C hi, Tallulah.¡±


    There¡¯s a moment¡¯s awkward silence, and I realise I don¡¯t know Elizabeth at all, really, and maybe we¡¯re not on terms to start talking in the dinner queue. ¡°Would you ¨C like to ¨C sit together?¡± I ask.


    Elizabeth looks away and shuffles forward a few paces. ¡°If¡­ you want to,¡± she says, sounding uncertain.


    Well, that¡¯s a great way to start. This is going to be an awkward meal.


    We pick up plates of steak and vegetables and look for a place to sit, but before we can decide someone waves at us. I¡¯m relieved for a second before I realise that it¡¯s now going to be an awkward meal for a whole new set of reasons.


    ¡°Tallulah!¡± Mildred says. ¡°Come and join us!¡±


    I glance at Elizabeth, who offers no excuse to refuse the invitation, and then swerve around a group of boys taking up far too much space towards the table-end claimed by Mildred and Elsie.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, trying to pretend I don¡¯t want to avoid Mildred. She thinks you¡¯re some sort of rival for you? I remember asking Edward earlier, and ¨C oh, stars, he turned down her invitation to the Harvest Ball to show me the City, that¡¯ll only reinforce that impression ¨C I make a mental note to complain about that to him later.


    ¡°So,¡± says Mildred as we sit down, ¡°what do you make of the teachers?¡±


    Okay. Small talk. I can do that. ¡°Electra was¡­ well. I can¡¯t work out if she¡¯s terrifying or ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°Definitely terrifying,¡± says Elsie, giggling nervously.


    ¡°She¡¯s not ¨C ¡° Elizabeth begins, and then stops. But we all turn to her, curious about what she could possibly say to defend Electra, and she¡¯s forced to continue: ¡°Look¡­ I owe her, okay? Quite possibly my life. Whatever her¡­ eccentricities, I know she wants the best for all of her students, and that she¡¯ll fight for us if she has to.¡±


    Elizabeth is Malaina too, isn¡¯t she? It doesn¡¯t take much imagination to see her snapping because of proper, actual trauma, and Electra being the one who was there to pick up the Fallen pieces and help her put them back together.


    ¡°Can I ask ¨C ¡° says Mildred.


    ¡°No,¡± Elizabeth replies.


    I could have told her that would be the answer, if the question was what happened? No Malaina wants to talk about that with anyone.


    To my surprise, it¡¯s Elsie who changes the subject to something less personal: ¡°How are the Harvest Ball preparations going?¡±


    ¡°Very well, thank you,¡± Mildred answers breezily. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t tell you this, but I¡¯ve heard the King himself will be attending. It¡¯ll be a great honour for the family if he does. And the Duchess of Ridgeton will be there, and everyone who¡¯s anyone at court. Except the Blackthorns, of course, but we can¡¯t have everything.¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t the Blackthorns going?¡± I ask. Edward never mentioned why his father refused the invitation.


    ¡°Oh, Lord Blackthorn never attends the Harvest Ball. My family and his have never liked each other. One of those feuds that¡¯s been going on so long no-one can even remember why. You¡¯d think they¡¯d stop holding a grudge after a century or so, wouldn¡¯t you? I did try asking Edward, in the hopes he¡¯d be less closed-minded, but no such luck.¡±


    ¡°Edward isn¡¯t ¨C ¡° I say without thinking.


    ¡°Oh? You know him well, then?¡±


    That was a mistake, wasn¡¯t it? I shrug. ¡°We¡¯ve only known each other a day. He¡¯s surprisingly nice, actually.¡±


    I¡¯m reminded of describing Mildred as friendly to Edward a few hours ago. There¡¯s something between them beyond an ancient feud or a possible arranged marriage, but I can¡¯t work out exactly what, which means I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m supposed to say.


    ¡°Did you see what the papers said this morning?¡± Elsie asks. ¡°About, well¡­¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Yeah.¡± I¡¯ve never been a good liar, but I don¡¯t want to have this conversation and I don¡¯t know how long I can cope with it, so I¡¯m resorting to monosyllables.


    ¡°I feel so bad for him,¡± Elsie continues. ¡°Imagine having the Dark Raven for a father!¡±


    This is exactly what Edward doesn¡¯t want. Pity.


    I don¡¯t want it either. I focus on mechanically swallowing my food, one mouthful at a time.


    <hr>


    The four of us go to the temple service after we¡¯ve eaten. I wouldn¡¯t have gone on my own, but I¡¯m glad I did: the temple is as beautiful as you¡¯d expect for one that¡¯s been used by royalty, and the service itself helps me clear my mind. Not to mention that the silence demanded of worshippers saves me from any more unwelcome conversations.


    Once that¡¯s over, I decide it¡¯s about time to find the library. Armed with Mildred¡¯s directions, I climb up to the sixth floor, wishing I was fitter and stronger so the endless spiral didn¡¯t exhaust me or that I hadn¡¯t thought it was a good idea to fill my satchel with all the papers I¡¯ve accumulated so far.


    The library is the first room on the north corridor ¨C at least, I think it¡¯s the north corridor; I¡¯m dizzy enough from the spiralling stairs that I could be very wrong about that. The door is labelled Library: Open 9am ¨C 7pm, but the room inside doesn¡¯t look much like a library. It¡¯s just a plain stone room with a tapestry hanging from the left wall, a second door directly across from me, and on the right a woman in her early twenties sitting at a desk.


    I step inside and let the door swing shut behind me, then walk up to the desk. ¡°Hi,¡± I say, trying to sound as if I know exactly what I¡¯m doing. ¡°Are you the librarian?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t look much like the librarians at Genford, or anything I¡¯d expect from a librarian; apart from her age, she wears a rather revealing red dress and lipstick of a similar shade, and her short curly hair is a deep black. ¡°Library assistant,¡± she corrects me. ¡°I¡¯m Rosie, I¡¯m a graduate student here. And you¡¯re new?¡±


    Is it that obvious? ¡°Yup. I¡¯m Tallulah. Nice to meet you.¡±


    ¡°You too. Know anything about the library here?¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°¡­no. Is it a special magic library?¡±


    Rosie laughs a little. ¡°It¡¯s in hyperspace, if that¡¯s what you mean.¡±


    I laugh too, then realise she¡¯s not joking. ¡°Hyperspace,¡± I repeat. ¡°As in, the stuff that caused the Greyford disaster?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, it¡¯s perfectly stable. Just don¡¯t think about what¡¯s under your feet and don¡¯t stay there too long.¡±


    I give her what she wants. ¡°What happens if you stay there too long?¡±


    ¡°Hyperspace and matter aren¡¯t supposed to interact. All matter that stays there long enough starts to disintegrate.¡±


    Stars, even the library is trying to kill me. Libraries are supposed to be safe. ¡°¡­wait, how do you store books in it, then?¡±


    ¡°There are enchantments that can counteract that effect. And once that¡¯s done, it¡¯s a very effective book-storing environment. No dust, no damp, no risk of fire. To answer your next question, you shouldn¡¯t experience any effects for at least two hours, so our rule is that you can¡¯t stay there for longer than one. There¡¯s a sign-in sheet I keep to make sure no-one¡¯s inside longer than is safe. There¡¯s more normal library rules as well: you can only take out up to five books¡­¡±


    I¡¯m not listening. The library is in hyperspace. There¡¯ll be no hour-long study sessions, no getting lost amongst the shelves and finding something new and fascinating. Does it even have a history section?


    It¡¯s silly to be so bothered by that, but the Genford library was my space, the place where no-one would find me and I could while away hours between lessons. I don¡¯t know how I would have coped without it.


    I didn¡¯t cope even with it.


    I recognise my heart speeding up and the world starting to lose focus sooner this time, and try to breathe. In, out, one, two. ¡°Actually ¨C do you mind if I come back later?¡± I ask once I trust myself to speak. And without waiting for a response, I flee from the library.

 17. Person of Interest

    There¡¯s no sign of Edward next morning at breakfast. I was hoping to see him to find out if the statement has been released and what the country is making of it, but that¡¯ll have to wait. Maybe I should take out a newspaper subscription myself.


    I eat alone and quickly, and then set off to spend an hour or two catching up on missed lessons before today¡¯s start. The study room is empty this early, which I like: no distractions except those in my mind. There are quite a lot of distractions in my mind. Still, I¡¯m making good progress by the time the door abruptly opens at about eight and thirty and Edward jogs in.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ve been looking for you everywhere!¡± He¡¯s carrying half a dozen newspapers under one arm and holds another slip of paper in one hand and a small greyish sack in the other.


    I blink a few times, hating the fact a part of me is pleased to know that. ¡°You weren¡¯t at breakfast.¡±


    ¡°Yes ¨C sorry ¨C ¡° he drops everything he¡¯s holding onto my desk, right on top of my neatly-arranged notes. ¡°I had to deal with my post, though. Turns out being on the front page of the newspapers means you get a lot of letters. Nothing cursed or even enchanted that got through the filters, but a lot of people being sympathetic, a few¡­ less so. One person called me a bastard, would you believe?¡±


    He laughs to himself. ¡°You¡¯d think they could at least do basic research before sending insulting anonymous notes, wouldn¡¯t you? Quite apart from the fact it¡¯s false in the literal sense, Blackthorns don¡¯t even see that as an insult.¡±


    That makes me realise that with everything about Edward¡¯s father, I¡¯ve never once asked myself who Edward¡¯s mother is. I didn¡¯t know Henry Blackthorn was married, but then why would I know?


    He¡¯s more bothered by the letters than he¡¯s admitting, though: who wouldn¡¯t be?


    ¡°A few sent money, as well. Mostly coppers as thinly veiled insults, but one or two seemed to genuinely believe they¡¯re helping me escape my father with a couple of silver pieces.¡± He slides the sack across the desk towards me.


    A little puzzled, I open it and look inside. It does indeed contain coins, as he described. I do some rough calculations: this might be nothing to him, but there¡¯s nearly a dozen silver coins in there: a couple of weeks¡¯ income for one of my parents. I tie the sack back up and slide it across the table.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want it back,¡± says Edward.


    My heart sinks a little. ¡°Are you trying to give me this?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°You need it more than I do.¡±


    ¡°I do not need your charity,¡± I snap.


    ¡°You can think of it as payment for writing the statement, if you prefer?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do that for money! I did it because ¨C because I wanted to help you!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have any use for it, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°Oh, poor you.¡± I didn¡¯t mean for that to come out so viciously sarcastic, but he¡¯s complaining about the fact he¡¯s so rich he has no use for more money. That deserves some level of bitterness. ¡°More money than you know what to do with. It must be so difficult for you.¡±


    To my surprise, he takes a step back from the table at that. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t think that through."


    I take a breath and supress my anger, then slide the coins at him again, harder this time, so that the sack falls off the other end of the table. ¡°I don¡¯t want your money. Find something else to do with it.¡±


    He stoops down to pick it up. ¡°Fair enough.¡± The expression on his face is already familiar despite how little we know each other: he¡¯s weighing the question of whether to say whatever¡¯s on his mind.


    ¡°Just say whatever it is,¡± I say flatly.


    Edward hesitates a fraction longer, and then does. ¡°Congratulations, you are officially a person of interest to the Ministry of Intelligence.¡±


    ¡°What.¡± What have I done? I¡¯m not mixed up in anything remotely shady. Not that I know of, anyway, and surely ¨C


    ¡°Well,¡± he continues, ¡°to my dad, anyway. Though the line between those is rather thin, in practice.¡±


    ¡°Tell me why.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°He saw the ¨C our statement. And he knows I couldn¡¯t have written it on my own. So he wants to know who helped me.¡±


    ¡°And what happens,¡± I ask, already knowing I won¡¯t like the answer, ¡°if I don¡¯t want him knowing it was me?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Tallulah. I¡¯m not hiding stuff from him for you. That would only make it worse than it is ¨C I doubt this¡¯ll affect anything.¡±


    I press my hand against the wood of the desk; it¡¯s reassuringly solid. I¡¯m not having a Malaina episode: I¡¯m perfectly in control of my emotions and reactions, and wondering why on earth I agreed to help with the statement.


    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    ¡°Really ¨C I¡¯m sorry ¨C I didn¡¯t realise ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Just go, will you? And take your money with you.¡±


    He nods sharply and leaves without another word or even a backward glance.


    That¡¯s over, then: even if Lord Blackthorn finds out I helped his son write the statement, I¡¯m not getting dragged into anything else like that.


    It¡¯s the sensible choice. The right choice.


    <hr>


    I sit with Elizabeth in our first lesson of the day, Alchemy. Not that we actually do any alchemy: it¡¯s all about the proper preparation of ingredients. I get that it¡¯s important to have the proper techniques for those things before you start actual brewing, but after an hour of being told I¡¯m dicing some unidentifiable brown root the wrong way my patience is running out.


    Elizabeth is a good partner, though: despite the age difference, we¡¯re both equally out of our depth and unused to magic, and we¡¯re both inclined to be quiet and focus on our work. It does feel different without Edward to explain anything magical, though. He¡¯s working alone, and I have to resist the temptation to occasionally glance over at him.


    That¡¯s the pattern of the whole morning: as quiet and normal as you can get at a place like this. At least until lunch, when Mildred asks me why I¡¯ve changed desk partner.


    Which is when I realise that I don¡¯t want to explain the statement and its consequences to anyone, but particularly her. And also that I¡¯m a terrible liar.


    ¡°I ¨C uh ¨C just felt like getting to know Elizabeth better,¡± I try. ¡°It¡¯s not like I was friends with Edward, anyway.¡±


    There¡¯s no way Mildred can¡¯t see through my attempts at deceit, but she just shrugs and says ¡°Fair enough, I suppose. Can¡¯t blame you. He is a Blackthorn, after all.¡±


    Stars, why do I want to protest that he can¡¯t help the family he was born into? Why do I want to defend him when I¡¯m done with him?


    ¡°Are you still planning to explore the City together?¡±


    We didn¡¯t exactly discuss that, but I¡¯m guessing the answer is no. I shrug instead of giving it. ¡°Maybe. Why, planning to try again at inviting him to the ball?¡±


    She laughs. ¡°I know a lost cause when I see one.¡±


    ¡°Any more gossip about that to share?¡± asks Elsie, to my relief.


    ¡°Well¡­¡± says Mildred slowly, ¡°as it happens, I did hear the most interesting rumour about the Duke of Morsbury¡¯s latest lover¡­¡±


    She knows how to play to her audience, I have to admit. I¡¯m even curious myself despite the fact I couldn¡¯t care less who the Duke is sleeping with. Or maybe I just want to talk about anything that isn¡¯t Edward.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± asks someone. That¡¯s Hannah¡¯s voice, I think; I turn a little to check, and it is indeed her standing behind the chair next to me.


    ¡°Oh, hello, Hannah!¡± says Mildred. ¡°Care to join us?¡±


    ¡°Mildred was just telling us about ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Oh ¨C no ¨C ¡° Hannah interrupts. ¡°Tallulah, Edward asked me to give you this.¡± She holds out a small envelope.


    I take it without looking and slip it into a pocket. ¡°Thanks,¡± I make myself say, because it¡¯s not her fault that Edward doesn¡¯t understand the meaning of go away.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Actually, I might stay for a while, I could use some food.¡±


    <hr>


    I don¡¯t open the envelope during lunch. Quite apart from the fact I¡¯m not sure I want to open it at all, there¡¯s not a chance I¡¯m doing it in front of Mildred. Unfortunately I¡¯m not used to eating with a group rather than on my own: meals take twice as long when there¡¯s four of us eating and talking at the same time, so I don¡¯t get a chance before the afternoon¡¯s lessons begin.


    We have Enchantments straight after lunch. It¡¯s a good lesson, as most are when it¡¯s magic I¡¯m learning. This lesson focuses on a simple colour-changing enchantment, though being a lesson or two behind still means I struggle to manage anything more than turning the cloth we¡¯re given the deep blue of a summer sky.


    That¡¯s good enough for me.


    Our last lesson of the day is Astronomy, which naturally has to take place at night. That means we have half the afternoon free. I head back to my dormitory and indulge myself in a few pages of A History of the Kings of Rasin, but the mention of Richard Blackthorn in the entry on Philippa the Bright means I can¡¯t even do that without being reminded of That Family.


    I take the envelope from my pocket. It¡¯s simple and plain, marked only by my name in Edward¡¯s small, neat writing.


    I could just¡­ not see what¡¯s inside.


    Yeah, that¡¯s not happening. What harm can it do just to open the envelope, anyway?


    This one is sealed properly, so I tear its top off, careful not to rip whatever¡¯s inside. It only contains a scrap of paper with a couple of lines of Edward¡¯s writing: I¡¯m sorry. Please let me try to explain. Where we met yesterday, once lessons are over.


    Wait ¨C have I missed it ¨C am I too late ¨C


    No, he means late this evening, after Astronomy.


    It¡¯s a bad idea. I don¡¯t want to get involved with him or his life any more than I have to.


    I already know whatever arguments I make to myself are just denial of the inevitable fact that I¡¯m going to meet Edward tonight.


    <hr>


    Astronomy lessons also need a good spot for stargazing. In this case, a segment of the Academy¡¯s roof is set aside for it, flattened and with railings separating it from the steep slope of the rest of the roof and the nine-storey drop below. Naturally, that means that we have to climb those nine stories to reach the open-air classroom, not to mention a ladder up onto the roof itself.


    It¡¯s also uncomfortably cold in the night air; I didn¡¯t think to wear a coat. There have to be spells to help you cope with the weather. When am I going to learn them?


    I settle for trying to not shiver and focus on the lesson. The fact we¡¯re having it at all is unusual in several respects. The Temple considers the study of the stars its sacred duty and is reluctant to allow astronomy to be taught to the population in general to the point that it¡¯s only allowed with the specific permission of a member of the Holy Convocation, its governing body, and even then has to be taught by an ordained priest.


    That restriction has clearly been obeyed here: I recognise the woman sitting on the edge of the flat section of roof as the priestess who led the service last night. She¡¯s quiet in the usual manner of priests, trained to watch and give guidance rather than to lead.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± she says, her voice soft but nevertheless commanding our attention. ¡°I am Sister Emily, eternal student of the stars. And I wish to teach you what I have learnt from them.¡±


    That¡¯s right, I remember: Astronomy lessons are only once a week so for once I¡¯m not behind my fellow students. One good thing, at least.


    ¡°I expect you are wondering why, as magicians, you are required to learn this. The first and most important reason is that the essence of magic is belief, and our belief in the power of the stars can be very powerful indeed. Many magicians use that belief to cast at least some spells, and for those such as me there is little difference between religion and magic. For those of you ¨C ¡° am I imagining it, or does she glance at Edward? ¨C ¡°who will go on to learn rituals or other powerful magic, knowing the behaviour of the stars will have more practical import. But for now? Learning begins with observation. So look up, and observe the stars.¡±

 18. Friends

    I quite enjoy Astronomy, to my surprise. It¡¯s relaxing to watch the stars and to know that they¡¯ve always been there and always will be, no matter what happens down here. I quite like the feeling of knowing that my problems are utterly insignificant to them, and that they will pass as all things do.


    I¡¯m abruptly jolted back to reality by Edward disappearing down the ladder the moment the class ends. I could just go to bed and forget all about it. Maybe I should.


    I¡¯m not going to.


    A minute or two later, I knock on the door of the private study room we wrote the statement together in.


    Edward takes a few seconds to open it, and holds it for me without saying a word. I step inside and he shuts the door behind me. Then he paces across the room to stand behind the desk in its centre. I take a few steps towards him, then stop, waiting.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to donate the money to a charity for abuse victims,¡± says Edward abruptly.


    ¡°Oh?¡± is all I can find to say to that. Because I don¡¯t care about the money, really.


    ¡°It seems fitting that it should be used for the purpose it was sent for.¡±


    It does, I admit to myself. If only that had been his first idea for what to do with it. ¡°I suppose so.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand how normal people do things.¡±


    It¡¯s just as abrupt as how he began this conversation, and I¡¯m glad about it: the surprise means I don¡¯t say any of the first few things that come to mind. They¡¯re along the lines of Really? I hadn¡¯t noticed. I can¡¯t work out what I should say instead, so I settle for silence.


    ¡°My dad is a big believer in money as a tool to earn loyalty.¡±


    I have to force myself not to say anything, and even so I¡¯m relatively sure the burst of anger that gives is visible. I¡¯m here to listen to him, I remind myself.


    ¡°He¡¯ll pay tradesmen nearly twice the usual rate for their services, and so when he asks for something they don¡¯t normally offer, or needs something kept secret, they¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Bribery,¡± I say grimly.


    ¡°Legally, no. Bribery would be if he offered them money to do those things, but that¡¯s not what he does.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between the letter and the spirit of a law.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. It¡¯s not like anyone¡¯s getting hurt by it, though: the tradespeople get more money, and my dad gets his work done and his secrets kept.¡±


    I didn¡¯t come here to listen to Edward try and justify the twisted Blackthorn version of ethics. Why did I come here?


    ¡°Anyway. That¡¯s what I tried to do to you, earlier.¡±


    Of course he did. It wasn¡¯t charity, it was trying to buy my loyalty and get me to keep his secrets. Bribing me.


    That¡¯s definitely worse than charity.


    I turn around and march back towards the door.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he says. ¡°Let me ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough,¡± I reply grimly as I reach the door and take hold of its knob. My first twist does nothing; it goes anticlockwise.


    ¡°Please.¡±


    I stop. That tone, the desperation in it. I can¡¯t just walk away from it. Stars help me.


    ¡°That was a mistake, Tallulah. I don¡¯t want to earn your loyalty through money. I don¡¯t want you to be my servant or my secretary. I want you to be my friend.¡±


    I let go of the doorknob and stare blankly at the wood in front of me.


    ¡°And I don¡¯t know how under starlit skies to make that happen.¡±


    Yeah. That sounds about right. He doesn¡¯t. I guess it makes sense that someone with Lord Blackthorn as a role model wouldn¡¯t understand how to have normal, healthy friendships. And I know the effect that not having those friendships can have on someone all too well, how awfully lonely it can be ¨C


    A surge of empathy and understanding hits me like a flash flood. I know how he feels, I relate to it far harder than I¡¯d like. Always being the odd one out, set apart from those around us so we could never truly be like them, be close to them.


    Two outcasts, alone.


    Suddenly I realise I want this as much as he does. I like him. Even if he doesn¡¯t understand how normal people work, even if he¡¯s used to privilege and paranoia, underneath all that he¡¯s trying to be¡­ well. Someone I could be friends with. Someone I want to be friends with.


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    Stars help me, I want to be friends with Edward Blackthorn.


    I turn around. ¡°No more bribery,¡± I say. ¡°And no more of the sort of stuff that gets my name on your dad¡¯s watchlist.¡±


    The look of disbelieving hope on his face is almost painful to see. ¡°You mean¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I want to¡­ try to be friends.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°There¡¯s going to be things I can¡¯t tell you,¡± he says. ¡°Family secrets. State secrets. The truth about why¡­¡±


    Why I Fell, I assume he means.


    ¡°We¡¯ve only known each other two days,¡± I reply. ¡°And I don¡¯t want to do anything that would¡­¡± bring your loyalties into conflict, I¡¯m tempted to say, but that¡¯s setting entirely the wrong tone for this: friendship is not supposed to be a carefully negotiated alliance. ¡°¡­make things awkward with your dad,¡± I finish instead.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°But. I do want to know what I¡¯m getting myself into with this. So tell me, what exactly does it mean to be a person of interest to your father?¡±


    <hr>


    Not, as it turns out, anything like as much as I thought. Lord Blackthorn will be finding out what¡¯s known about me and my family to make sure that I don¡¯t have any ties to foreign powers or other hostile agents (Edward¡¯s words, not mine; I don¡¯t bother asking for clarification) or vulnerabilities easily exploitable by such, and that I don¡¯t have an agenda in wanting to be friends with him.


    In the spirit of this new friendship, I refrain from commenting on that.


    And then he decides that it¡¯s a good idea to draw up a pact.


    ¡°You don¡¯t do that. That¡¯s not how friendship works. That¡¯s not how normal people work.¡± Pacts are for alliances between noble families, not for people like me.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t we already established that I¡¯m not normal?¡±


    Okay, that¡¯s a good point. ¡°I don¡¯t want to be locked into anything I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s why we¡¯re going to work out the terms together, and not put anything there that we¡¯re not both happy with.¡±


    It works better than I expected, I have to admit. It doesn¡¯t feel like a contract between nobles, it feels like an agreement between the two of us to do the best we can to be good friends to each other.


    We promise to keep each other¡¯s secrets, no matter what. To respect each other¡¯s privacy, and not try to find out what the other won¡¯t tell. To tell each other when we¡¯re making mistakes or doing the wrong kind of not-normal things. To talk to each other when there are problems, because even with the similarities I¡¯ve just realised we have there are still far more differences.


    And then we talk for hours, planning the places we¡¯re going to visit when exploring the City in two days and the things we¡¯re going to do together, until I realise suddenly it¡¯s gone midnight. I never usually stay up that late.


    ¡°See you tomorrow, then?¡± Edward suggests, smiling.


    ¡°See you tomorrow,¡± I agree.


    <hr>


    We¡¯re allowed to leave the Academy and go wherever we like on weekends, but I stay inside its grounds that Saturday. I spend the entire morning studying until I¡¯m almost caught up on the lessons I¡¯ve missed, and Edward has to insist I don¡¯t work myself to death. We practice the General Animation Spell together, racing our quills in circles around the study room (we¡¯re the only ones there; most people have better things to do with their weekend). Edward wins, naturally.


    ¡°Have you been to the library yet?¡± he asks just after lunch.


    ¡°I ¨C sort of. I didn¡¯t like the idea of ¨C well, hyperspace.¡±


    ¡°It is rather strange,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°But it¡¯s safe enough as long as you don¡¯t stay too long.¡±


    ¡°Even after Greyford?¡±


    ¡°That only happened because it involved stabilising new hyperspace. Existing stabilised hyperspace isn¡¯t going to cause that. I don¡¯t really know much about it, though. Rosie ¨C my cousin ¨C is researching hyperspace, she¡¯ll talk your ears off about it if you give her half a chance. And my dad¡¯s an expert because it¡¯s his job to be.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this personally, but I don¡¯t really want to discuss hyperspace safety with your dad.¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°Anyway, do you want to go to the library? It has quite a good history section ¨C mostly magical history, but there¡¯s a few old volumes that have been there long enough they wouldn¡¯t survive outside hyperspace ¨C ¡°


    I¡¯ve heard all I need: hyperspace or not, I¡¯m going to that library.


    <hr>


    Rosie is on duty again. Great. I was hoping it would be someone who didn¡¯t know what I did last time round. Hopefully I can at least avoid making conversation with ¨C


    ¡°Hi, Edward! You finally got round to visiting, then?¡±


    Yeah, didn¡¯t think I¡¯d get away with it.


    ¡°Give me a break, Rosie, I¡¯ve been kind of busy the last few days. How¡¯s the research coming on?¡±


    ¡°Still collecting data, but I¡¯m hoping within a week or two there¡¯ll be enough I can start some proper analysis. And you¡¯re¡­ Tallulah, right?¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± I agree.


    ¡°You two already know each other? How am I supposed to do introductions now? Rosie, my friend Tallulah. Tallulah, my cousin Rosie.¡±


    I blink. ¡°You¡¯re Edward¡¯s cousin? Sorry. That came out wrong. I didn¡¯t mean ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± says Rosie, smiling. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly what people expect from a Blackthorn.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d think they¡¯d have worked out after six centuries that our family doesn¡¯t like to conform to expectations, wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°People never learn to expect the unexpected. Anyway, I¡¯m guessing you didn¡¯t show up just to socialise?¡±


    ¡°I wanted to show Tallulah the library.¡±


    ¡°Right you are. Two tickets to hyperspace coming right up.¡±


    <hr>


    It¡¯s actually not too bad, once I learn the trick of not looking down or focusing on what¡¯s beneath my feet. And the books make everything worth it. There¡¯s an actual first edition of the Account of the Second Civil War ¨C there are only half a dozen copies in existence, and I never dreamed I¡¯d be able to touch one ¨C why didn¡¯t I bring gloves? I shouldn¡¯t touch it with my bare hands ¨C


    And then there¡¯s an entire section on magical history, which I¡¯ve barely studied at all ¨C I find the first volume of a history of magicians¡¯ power both magical and political which I can take out of hyperspace, and then there¡¯s an old tome on the Blackthorn family ¨C


    That shouldn¡¯t startle me, but it does. ¡°People I know¡± and ¡°people who have history books written about their families¡± have always been two very distinct categories, and to find them overlapping is disorienting.


    I slide it back onto the shelf. It doesn¡¯t feel quite right to study and learn about the Blackthorns any more. But next to it there¡¯s a discussion of how the Temple¡¯s doctrine on magic has evolved over the centuries, and¡­


    Someone is saying my name. I blink a few times and pull my mind out of a detailed explanation of how and why the Royal Magicians were first created.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Edward in a tone that suggests he¡¯s been trying to get my attention for a while.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply, trying and failing not to sound annoyed at the interruption.


    ¡°We¡¯ve been here nearly an hour. We need to go.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Sorry. I just need to¡­¡± I glance around and realise that I¡¯m surrounded by half a shelf¡¯s worth of books sitting on the nothingness ¨C don¡¯t think about that. ¡°¡­put most of these away, I¡¯m borrowing¡­¡± There was a pile of the books I want to take out at some point, I¡¯m sure.


    Edward smiles. ¡°Do you want help?¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±

 19. Oracle

    I want to set out on our exploration early the next morning, but Edward disagrees. If we¡¯re gone in the morning and get back in the afternoon, he loses all pretence that this was why he couldn¡¯t go to the Harvest Ball. Instead we claim a study room to spend the morning in, though neither of us study as such.


    I¡¯m working my way steadily through the books I eventually borrowed from the library yesterday, occasionally pausing to note down something particularly interesting or something I want to cross-reference. Edward is working on simultaneous casting, though he¡¯s not having much success.


    The alternating gold and silver glows in his hands are a little distracting, but I don¡¯t mind it. I do mind his increasing frustration with his failures, though.


    ¡°Electra said it¡¯s supposed to be ridiculously hard,¡± I say after a while, having just finished a chapter, ¡°and only a handful of magicians can manage it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Blackthorn.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a Blackthorn who¡¯s been a magician for less than a week. How is it meant to work, anyway?¡±


    He narrows his eyes for a second, as if suspicious of my intentions, but then replies: ¡°The same way casting a single spell works. The difficulty is in being able to hold both in your mind simultaneously. My dad said I might need a while to get used to casting before I can do it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s probably right, then.¡± Lord Blackthorn certainly knows more about simultaneous casting than I do. ¡°Maybe try a different spell? Or ¨C no, cast separate spells with each School ¨C it must be easier to keep them apart in your mind if they¡¯re doing different things, right?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± says Edward, ¡°that¡¯s actually a very good idea.¡±


    There¡¯s no need for him to sound so surprised about it. Just because I¡¯m not a Blackthorn and haven¡¯t been raised with magic my entire life doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t have good ideas.


    Edward summons a ball of starlight-silver Malaina light and holds it in the palm of his left hand. With his right, he removes one of his marbles from his pocket and places it on the table. ¡°For it is life,¡± he recites, hand hovering above the marble.


    It flies up into his hand. And the silver light winks out a moment later.


    ¡°It worked,¡± says Edward, a hint of awe in his tone for once. ¡°Only for a second ¨C but it worked. Thank you.¡±


    I grin and turn a page to the next chapter.


    <hr>


    We finally leave after lunch. It¡¯s a simple enough process: we ask the caretaker, an old lady introduced simply as Miss Carr, to sign us out and open the gate for us. She does so, walking surprisingly quickly despite leaning on an ornately-carved cane. The three of us walk along the short gravel drive from the main entrance to the Academy building to the gate. I assumed we¡¯d go out a back entrance, but no: we¡¯re leaving the way we came in, stepping straight out into the Central Ring.


    And in dramatic fashion, too. At Miss Carr¡¯s touch, the heavy iron gate dissolves into nothingness. It¡¯s the grandest display of magic I¡¯ve seen so far, and I can¡¯t help being a little awed by it. ¡°Well, get going,¡± says Miss Carr, glancing from me to Edward. ¡°I can¡¯t stand around here all day.¡± I half-expect the gate to reappear when we cross the place where it was, but nothing of the sort happens: we just step across the boundary and into the Ring.


    It¡¯s thronged with people, as it usually is, even on a Sunday. Most are just passing through: it¡¯s the most convenient route between a lot of places in the City, located at its centre and with the four Great Roads ending here. But there are many people who have business here, too. A steady trickle of well-dressed people is flowing in and out of the Central Bank, what looks like a small group of pilgrims guided by a priest are processing into the Abbey Royal, a few stalls sell newspapers, drinks and souvenirs. It¡¯s quieter than you¡¯d expect from a space containing hundreds of people. There¡¯s something about the grandeur of the buildings that surround the Ring that inspires a hushed silence.


    ¡°I suppose you¡¯ll want to see the statue first,¡± says Edward, gesturing to the stone sculpture in the centre of the Ring and the whole City, maybe twenty yards in front of us.


    ¡°Of course,¡± I reply. I¡¯ve read about this statue in countless books, even seen a couple of illustrations. I didn¡¯t think seeing it in person would happen in quite this way. We cross the Ring towards it, dodging around a group of businessmen who don¡¯t seem to notice we¡¯re there or care if they walk straight through us.


    It¡¯s larger than I expected from the illustrations, certainly larger than life-size. It stands on a round stone about the height of my waist, and depicts a man and two women dressed in long, flowing robes vaguely reminiscent of those I¡¯ve seen magicians wearing recently. They¡¯re facing away from each other, towards the country¡¯s most important buildings, though they stand close together, and their hands are raised in the typical depiction of magicians casting. The statue is too tall for me to make out their expressions.


    The inscription carved on the stone reads: Ardith, Cyrus and Theola. May they always watch over their country. Until They Return.


    It¡¯s a blatant propaganda piece, of course, rather than a memorial to the Mages ¨C no-one knows where they were buried or even when they died. A few have theorised they¡¯re immortal, that they¡¯re still among us. Philippa the Bright had the statue built soon after finally taking the City and the throne, as a way of symbolising that the Mages blessed her reign and supported her rule.


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    I¡¯m almost more interested in the names carved into the stone below the statue. I crouch down so I can read them better, although I already know them all. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold. And so it continues: every king Rasin has had in the last thousand years, all the way to the present king¡¯s mother Anabelle the Reformer. The carvings are small enough that there¡¯s still room for another thousand years of history.


    There¡¯s something about the grandeur of the Mages and the tiny writing of the kings¡¯ names that makes me feel small and insignificant. If even a king only warrants a footnote on the great statue, what am I?


    ¡°Do you like it?¡± asks Edward.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the point. Whether I like it doesn¡¯t matter.¡± Though I do like it, a lot. The sculpture is brilliantly done ¨C not that that should be a surprise, when only the best of the best would ever be contracted for work like this. And how can I not like this reminder of our nation¡¯s history right in its centre?


    I pace around the statue, looking at it from all different angles and taking the time to really appreciate it. I¡¯m opposite Edward and can¡¯t see him when I hear his voice, with a note of panic I hadn¡¯t heard before: ¡°Go away. Please. Go away.¡±


    I dash back round to him, and pull up abruptly to narrowly avoid colliding with the man standing next to him. He¡¯s staring at the statue intently enough not to even notice. He¡¯s dressed in a smart suit, but his shirt has four buttons undone so I can see his hairy chest, and his hair is long and wild.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want this,¡± Edward insists, speaking quickly and urgently. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± I say to the man, ¡°what are you doing?¡±


    With an effort, he drags his gaze from the statue to look at me. His eyes are wild, unfocused. ¡°I am bearing witness.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing here to bear witness to,¡± Edward says. ¡°Just go away.¡±


    ¡°My presence doesn¡¯t matter,¡± the man says. ¡°There are things more important than what you want, and you cannot go on as you have been.¡±


    Can¡¯t he stop spouting cryptic babble and either go or explain what he wants?


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡° Edward says. The tension in his body is all too visible, and I realise suddenly what¡¯s happening to him.


    I push through the gap between the man and the statue and take Edward¡¯s hand. ¡°We¡¯re leaving,¡± I announce, and set off across the Ring, dragging Edward with me.


    He follows without resisting, and the man remains where he is, his gaze returning to the statue.


    I¡¯m not sure where we¡¯re going other than away from the man and the statue, but we find ourselves walking towards the start of the Great East Road. That leads away from here, doesn¡¯t it? It¡¯ll do.


    We walk along the Road for a few minutes before Edward tugs me towards the entrance to the National Museum. We planned to go there last night, but I¡¯m not sure if ¨C after whatever that was ¨C it¡¯s a good idea. But I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m doing or what happened, so I trust Edward.


    The Museum is nearly as grand as the Academy inside: the ceiling towers high enough to inspire a faint sense of awe when I look up, and the staircase that leads up from the entrance room is almost identical to the one I¡¯m getting used to.


    ¡°Two tickets, please,¡± says Edward, approaching the reception desk and reaching into his robes for a coin purse. What is it about rich people and always assuming they¡¯ll be the ones to pay for things? I can¡¯t make it into a problem now, though.


    The receptionist is a young woman in a modest grey dress; she smiles and takes the silver pieces Edward sets down on the desk. ¡°Your girlfriend is interested in history, then?¡±


    I¡¯m not his ¨C I remember belatedly that we¡¯re still holding hands. That would be the more natural assumption than I grabbed him to get him out of a situation that was leading to a Malaina episode. ¡°I ¨C yes. Yes, I am. I¡¯m looking forward to seeing the Museum. Is it true you have an original royal prayer-book?¡± I¡¯m babbling on like a fool, but that¡¯s all I can think to do.


    The receptionist looks delighted I asked, though. ¡°Owned by Isabella the Pious herself! You can see that on the third floor. Why don¡¯t you take a map?¡±


    I take the parchment she offers me without looking at it, as well as our tickets.


    ¡°Thank you very much,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome! Enjoy your visit!¡±


    We climb the stairs to the first exhibition, doing a reasonable explanation of a couple here for a date and definitely not in shock from whatever happened a few minutes ago. I wonder suddenly whether Edward would want us to be here for a date.


    I haven¡¯t thought about him romantically at all, but if he wants to be more than friends¡­ I think through every interaction we¡¯ve had, trying to work out whether there were hints I didn¡¯t notice.


    I don¡¯t want to date him, but I also don¡¯t want to let him down.


    We step through the open doors into the first exhibition, on what was on this land before Rasin as a country existed. I don¡¯t know much about history that distant, and normally I¡¯d be excited by the prospect of learning more, but now¡­


    Edward guides me to a bench in the middle of the exhibition, opposite what appears to be the remains of a thousand-year-old sword, and then releases my hand at last.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says, leaning towards me and keeping his voice low. ¡°If you hadn¡¯t been there¡­¡±


    I don¡¯t need him to finish that sentence. ¡°You did the same for me. We¡¯re friends now. That¡¯s what friends do.¡±


    He smiles a little.


    ¡°Who was that man?¡±


    ¡°An oracle.¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°You mean¡­ he was telling you a prophecy?¡±


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°No. Not all oracles give prophecies, at least not in the sense you¡¯re probably thinking of. Each one is different in how they receive knowledge of the future and what comes with it. The man we saw ¨C I think ¨C is drawn compulsively towards¡­ people, and events, that will one day be immensely important.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say. It¡¯s not the man Edward was so panicked by, it¡¯s what he represented: the idea that some day, his actions could decide the fate of the country. I can¡¯t blame him; I would be, too. ¡°But¡­ you¡¯re going to be a Royal Magician. So didn¡¯t you already know ¨C ¡°


    He shakes his head sharply. ¡°There¡¯ve only been four of my ancestors who were touched by oracles. That I know of,¡± he adds. ¡°I¡¯m not sure my dad would tell me if he was.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I repeat. ¡°Could the oracle have¡­ made a mistake?¡±


    ¡°Oracles don¡¯t make mistakes. Misinterpret their visions, yes, but mistakes? Never.¡±


    ¡°Maybe¡­ maybe he did misinterpret the vision. Maybe it was the statue, something was going to happen to it ¨C if the king was going to die, wouldn¡¯t that be an important event involving it ¨C a new name added ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah.¡±


    I stop talking.


    ¡°Do you actually believe that?¡±


    It would be so easy to say yes. So easy to lie to him, and then we could go on pretending that nothing had happened and that he wasn¡¯t going to one day change the world and that neither of us were terrified by that fact.


    I hate it when people lie to me, even if it¡¯s what I want to hear. ¡°¡­no.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. Thank you for trying, though.¡± He takes a shuddering breath. ¡°I¡¯ll just have to forget about it. Meddling with oracles never ends well.¡±

 20. Interlude: The Harvest Ball

    ¡°Could you pass the salt, please?¡± asked the King.


    ¡°Yes, Your Majesty,¡± said Mildred, sliding the saltshaker across the table and past her father to the King¡¯s seat. She was surprised by how quickly she was adjusting to eating with royalty.


    She took a sip of wine ¨C another new luxury and one she was fast becoming fond of ¨C and narrowed her eyes. She¡¯d been listening to the royal family¡¯s conversation for all of the meal so far, and something was wrong. The King wasn¡¯t talking to her father as one talked to a well-liked courtier hosting a grand party for you. He spoke few words, and those curt.


    Her grim thoughts were interrupted by her neighbour, the Duchess of Ridgeton, asking her how she was finding the study of magic. It was conversation for conversation¡¯s sake, nothing more, but Mildred had been playing that game her entire life. ¡°It¡¯s most enlightening, your Grace. I am blessed by the stars to have been granted such power.¡±


    She was blatantly lying, of course. Wonderful though magic was, a magician could not own land, or even marry someone who would inherit land without her husband giving up his place in the succession. There was no way for her to rise higher except to become a Royal Magician, and usurping Lord Blackthorn was quite out of the question.


    What were you supposed to do when you were born to play the games of power but forever unable to win?


    ¡°Yes, I have often wished for such a gift myself,¡± the Duchess replied, lying equally blatantly. ¡°But the stars¡¯ will is what it is. I am glad you enjoy your studies. It is a fine thing for a lady to be well-read.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I quite agree.¡±


    What had her father done to displease the King? She couldn¡¯t ask him, of course: even if she could find a way to exchange words in private, he wouldn¡¯t tell her. Mildred loved her father dearly, but he never told her anything. Mother might know, but she was having one of her bad spells and had been forced to miss the Harvest Ball for the first time since Mildred was born.


    She barely noticed whatever pleasantries she was exchanging with the Duchess, her mind turning through options. Asking the King was completely out of the question, but one of his children¡­ the High Princess was far too discreet and well-versed in social games to give her anything, Miranda would enjoy holding the secret over Mildred too much to ever let it go, and Stephen¡­


    Yes. Stephen. That was it. He was half-drunk before they¡¯d even finished the main course, which would make him more likely to let something slip. And since the King didn¡¯t dance and her mother wasn¡¯t here, etiquette demanded he share the first dance with his charming young hostess.


    Mildred smiled a little and took another sip of wine.


    ¡°So,¡± said the Duke of Crelt, sitting opposite, to Mildred¡¯s father. ¡°Tell us what you think of the tensions with Sirgal!¡±


    Mildred¡¯s father sat on the Sirgalese Relations Committee in Parliament, so he was well-versed in the growing tension between the two countries. ¡°I can¡¯t comment on anything in my official capacity,¡± he said quickly, with just the right suggestive pause.


    The Duke took the bait: ¡°But unofficially?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re just agitating for reduced trade tariffs. They think we¡¯re so afraid of war that we¡¯ll offer them a bargain to make them back down.¡±


    ¡°Interesting that you should say that,¡± the King remarked, as the servants began clearing away plates in preparation for dessert. ¡°Lord Blackthorn¡¯s latest report gave a very different indication.¡±


    Mildred had to focus to keep her expression under control. Blackthorns, always Blackthorns. They took everything that rightfully belonged to all the old families for themselves and then hit them with punishing laws and taxes when they dared object. None of the true Siaril families had forgotten that it was a Blackthorn who¡¯d caused the restriction of magicians¡¯ rights in the first place.


    She¡¯d hoped Edward would be more willing to negotiate and work with them, that they could win him over to their cause and finally make real progress, but his father had taught him all too well. Really, taking that Tallulah girl to explore the City? Could he not have at least come up with a better pretext for refusing her invitation?


    But she¡¯d lost track of the conversation: the King was explaining to the Duke that according to the spymaster¡¯s report the tensions on the border were a result of squabbles between different factions within Sirgal, and at least one of those factions was determined to have war with Rasin.


    That was ominous, but what was worse was the way he¡¯d brought it up. Interesting that you should say that. He was undercutting her father¡¯s credibility in favour of the Blackthorns¡¯. But that was almost inevitable: Lord Blackthorn was one of the King¡¯s closest advisors, the two spoke almost every day, and her father was just another courtier vying for attention.


    A servant ¨C hired especially for the occasion, it was quite impractical to keep the hundreds it took to run an event like this smoothly for the whole year ¨C slipped a plate of Mildred¡¯s favourite cinnamon delight in front of her. She picked up her spoon and twirled it absently between her fingers. Not even cinnamon delight could save her from a mood like this.


    The dessert seemed to last an eternity. Mildred lost count of how many meaningless conversations she had with her neighbours, how many times she felt as if she was fading into the background at her own party because she was nothing but the daughter of a minor lord and not even a good marriage prospect for anyone more powerful than her father.


    Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    And then, finally, the plates were collected, the tables whisked away, and the floor cleared for dancing. A few dissonant strands of music floated across the room as the band checked their instruments were tuned and ready. Mildred downed the last of her wine and set her glass on a passing tray, feeling a flutter of excitement despite herself.


    Whatever was wrong, this was her first time not being sent to bed before the dancing began, her first ball as a grown woman, her first time dancing with anyone other than family or teachers. She deserved to enjoy this evening. Maybe she didn¡¯t have to steal information from the prince as they danced; maybe she could just wait until tomorrow when the party was over and the royals had left, and then interrogate her father.


    Maybe tonight would be as magical and wonderful as she¡¯d always dreamed.


    Prince Stephen was making his way towards her, a little unsteady on his feet.


    Or maybe her first dance with a prince would be a misery because he was too drunk to walk, let alone dance. She closed her eyes and prayed briefly that he wouldn¡¯t ruin her night.


    ¡°Miss Cavendish,¡± said the prince when she opened her eyes, now close enough to speak to her. His speech was still clear, at least.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± Mildred replied, sinking into a deep curtsey.


    ¡°I wondered if you would do me the honour of the first dance with my charming young hostess?¡±


    That was hardly proper etiquette, but she was reluctantly impressed that he was even able to form coherent sentences with the amount of wine he¡¯d drunk so far. Then again, she thought uncharitably, he¡¯d had plenty of practice if the stories she¡¯d heard of court were even close to true.


    ¡°Your Grace,¡± replied Mildred, rising and offering him her hand, ¡°the honour would be all mine.¡±


    His palm was sweaty, and his grip too tight. She wanted instantly to tear her hand away and wipe it on a handkerchief, but that would be a terrible breach of etiquette. She could do nothing to displease the royal family, not with her father¡¯s position so precarious.


    She fixed a smile on her features and said ¡°Tell me, how are your horses?¡±


    Mildred had never taken to horse-riding herself ¨C without land and with the ability to teleport, there was little benefit to her father in maintaining a stable, so she hadn¡¯t grown up around horses and was no more than a passable rider. But horses were one of Prince Stephen¡¯s three great loves, so the gossip ran, and she refused to discuss women or wine with him.


    It seemed to do the trick: he launched into a detailed and not entirely coherent story of how one of his best mares hadn¡¯t been eating well lately and he was worried she was ill and the stablemaster was being so unhelpful about it all and someone ought to remind him of the consequences of displeasing a prince. Mildred only needed to smile and nod and every so often say ¡°Quite right,¡± or ¡°I completely agree¡±.


    Then, finally, the band was ready and everyone had chosen their partners for the first dance. Mildred allowed Prince Stephen to lead her to the end of the room so they could officially open the Harvest Ball. Every eye in the room was fixed on the two of them. She liked it.


    She turned smoothly once they had reached their position, without letting go of the prince¡¯s hand. The room fell silent, her audience waiting.


    ¡°Your Majesty,¡± said Mildred, curtseying towards the King. ¡°Your Highnesses.¡± This time to High Princess Alexandra and her husband. ¡°My lords and ladies.¡± That was the traditional introduction to a speech dealt with. ¡°It is a great honour to have you all here tonight ¨C and I speak here not just for myself, but for my mother who I regret is not here and for my father who is. It is truly the highest honour one can wish for, to entertain people such as yourselves, and to serve our King in the way that best befits our talents.¡±


    ¡°Is it,¡± said a cold, clear voice. High Princess Alexandra stood close to Mildred and Stephen, holding her husband¡¯s arm, and the look on her face was grim.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mildred replied, fighting to maintain the fa?ade of calm while her mind whirled. This open questioning of her family¡¯s loyalties was more than just undercutting her father¡¯s credibility. Whatever the royal family were offended by must be something serious. And they were minded to exact punishment tonight.


    ¡°I see. Lord Cavendish, do enlighten me about something.¡±


    Mildred¡¯s father stood at the edge of the room; it was considered improper for a married man to share the first dance of a ball with a woman not his wife. ¡°Of course, Your Highness.¡±


    ¡°It is your highest honour,¡± she repeated, ¡°to serve your King.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes. Yes, your Highness.¡±


    ¡°Your loyalty to your country comes before all else.¡±


    ¡°Your Highness, if I have ever given you or your father any reason to doubt ¨C ¡°


    The High Princess raised a hand, and he fell silent. The entire room was dreadfully silent. Mildred had to admire the performance she put on, even in her growing horror about what came next.


    ¡°You would not, for instance,¡± she said icily, ¡°even consider accepting money from a foreign power to influence the decisions made by a Parliamentary committee of which you are a member?¡±


    No. He hadn¡¯t. Surely her father wasn¡¯t that disloyal, that stupid? Surely she would have known if he¡¯d done something like that? Surely ¨C


    No. No, no, no. This could not be happening.


    Her father¡¯s response might as well have been an admission of guilt; he said nothing, and instead pivoted on the spot where he stood in an attempt to teleport away. But he remained right where he was. The manor¡¯s wards should have permitted him to teleport within its grounds; had someone laid external¡­


    Of course they had. The King and the High Princess were using this as a very public example of the consequences of betraying your country.


    Taking payment from a foreign power was legally classified as high treason.


    The penalty for high treason was death.


    Before her mind had fully caught up with the horror of that, she tugged her arm free from Prince Stephen¡¯s grip and fell to her knees. ¡°Your Majesty, Your Highness. Please, have mercy.¡±


    It wouldn¡¯t work, she knew, but she had to try. She had to do something. There had to be a way to save him.


    ¡°Miss Cavendish, you have no need to beg for mercy on your own account. There is no evidence suggesting that you were involved in or even knew of your father¡¯s crimes. For him, though? Mercy,¡± said Alexandra coldly, ¡°is for the innocent.¡± She clapped her hands, and the great doors to the ballroom swung smoothly open. Half a dozen of the High Royal Guard marched into the room and saluted the King.


    That was the end, then: even had her father been mad enough to risk fighting, one man had no hope against six highly-trained combat magicians.


    ¡°You will arrest Lord Cavendish,¡± the King proclaimed. ¡°On charges of misleading Parliament, taking a bribe to influence Parliamentary process¡­ and high treason.¡±


    Those words broke the spell of silence that had hung over the room. Shocked whispers everywhere: ¡°High treason¡­¡±, ¡°I never even suspected¡­¡±, ¡°how could he?¡±


    Mildred¡¯s father stepped back until he was touching the wall, as if he wished that he could step through it and away from this. He didn¡¯t meet her eyes.


    Mildred didn¡¯t look away, though. No matter how foolish he¡¯d been, he was still her father, and she was not going to sit by and watch his execution. She would save him, whatever the cost.

 21. High Treason

    ¡°Slow down a second. What exactly did he do to get charged with high treason?¡±


    ¡°Lord Cavendish sat on the Sirgalese Relations Committee in Parliament. That does exactly what it sounds like, and it means he had a lot of influence over what the country thinks of Sirgal and in turn its foreign policy. It appears that he was taking substantial bribes from an unknown faction within Sirgal to give false analysis of relations between the countries with the aim of suggesting that recent increases in tensions ¨C ¡° Edward abruptly stops talking.


    ¡°Go on?¡± I say after a moment and a spoonful of porridge.


    ¡°I¡­ may or may not have just given you information that isn¡¯t public knowledge and which isn¡¯t supposed to become public knowledge.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t tell anyone. Who would I tell, anyway?¡±


    Edward¡¯s lips twitch in amusement. ¡°Best I don¡¯t give you ideas by answering that one. But yes: tensions with Sirgal are increasing and there¡¯s a consensus within government that revealing that too widely would lead to panic and further escalation. Anyway, Lord Cavendish was trying to give the impression that Sirgalese actions were less hostile than they most likely are.¡±


    Okay, yeah, I can see why that would be considered treason. Being in the pay of a foreign power and misleading your own government because of it is definitely disloyalty to your country. ¡°And¡­ what happens next?¡± I ask.


    ¡°There¡¯ll be a trial ¨C conducted as discreetly as possible for obvious reasons ¨C ¡°


    I don¡¯t find those reasons particularly obvious, and I¡¯m not entirely comfortable with the way I¡¯d have to start thinking to find them obvious. Edward was raised that way, though, I remind myself, and he often forgets most people weren¡¯t.


    ¡°And when he¡¯s found guilty ¨C ¡°


    ¡°When,¡± I repeat. ¡°Doesn¡¯t that defeat the entire purpose of the justice system?¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°He is guilty.¡±


    ¡°How do you know? Have you seen evidence?¡±


    ¡°No, but my father has. He found most of the evidence. And he doesn¡¯t make mistakes.¡±


    I stare at him for a long moment, unable to find words to describe how completely wrong that reasoning is. ¡°Your father,¡± I repeat. ¡°I don¡¯t mean to disrespect him, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°But you¡¯re about to. Fair enough.¡±


    Yeah, it was pretty clear where I was going with that, and the fact he knows it only makes me feel worse about it. It has to be said, though. ¡°Do you really believe that he wouldn¡¯t fabricate evidence of treason to further his agenda?¡±


    ¡°Fabricating evidence of treason would itself be high treason, which is something my father would never even contemplate.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, considering that. My instinctive reaction is to disbelieve it, but¡­ why? What does Lord Blackthorn really want, and how far is he prepared to go to get it? I want to believe Edward when he says that his father isn¡¯t evil and doesn¡¯t want the throne, but as a historian I have to recognise that he¡¯s an extremely biased source and can¡¯t be relied on.


    ¡°Okay. For the sake of argument, suppose that he¡¯s found guilty. Then what?¡±


    I already know the answer to that question, but I don¡¯t want to know it.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be stripped of his titles and all official positions ¨C they¡¯ll likely pass to Mildred as his heir, unless she¡¯s implicated herself, which I doubt she is. That¡¯s standard practice for ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Anyone convicted of an offence above a certain magnitude. Lawyer¡¯s daughter, remember?¡± I do know some things.


    Including the penalty for high treason.


    ¡°Right. Yes. Sorry. Are you going to make me say it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I already know. But¡­¡± I hesitate. ¡°Do you know him?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°We¡¯ve met a few times. He introduced me to Mildred a few years ago. Why?¡±


    ¡°Because¡­ does it bother you? That he¡¯s going to ¨C die?¡±


    He shrugs again. ¡°He committed treason. That¡¯s the sentence.¡±


    Edward is right, but in another way he¡¯s so, so wrong. ¡°Mildred is going to lose her father. Do you not at least feel bad for her?¡±


    ¡°A little. But¡­ it¡¯s the law. It¡¯s politics. You play the game, you know the consequences of losing, you pay the price if you do. How I feel about it is irrelevant.¡±


    ¡°If¡­¡± Maybe I don¡¯t have the right to ask this question. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t. But I don¡¯t think it¡¯s right for Lord Cavendish to be executed. ¡°If it were your father¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­it would break me,¡± Edward admits simply.


    ¡°And yet?¡±


    ¡°If we stopped executing people for treason, what would happen then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard the arguments. No deterrent means we¡¯d have far more people believing they could get off lightly and betraying their country.¡±


    Edward swallows his mouthful of toast before replying: ¡°That¡¯s not the argument I¡¯ve heard. According to my dad? Traitors are threats to the kingdom, and those threats need to be eliminated.¡±


    This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    That seems like the sort of thing Lord Blackthorn would say. I can¡¯t work out whether it¡¯s the sort of thing he¡¯d believe, because I¡¯m starting to realise I don¡¯t know the first thing about him. Maybe I¡¯ll find time for an extra-curricular research project.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ a very ruthless way of looking at it,¡± I say carefully.


    ¡°You can¡¯t survive as a politician and spymaster without being ruthless.¡± He pauses for a moment. ¡°Without making sacrifices.¡±


    Sacrifices like not being there when his son needs him. I don¡¯t think that implication was unintended, but the relationship between Edward Blackthorn and his father is not something I want to meddle in.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about something else?¡±


    Yes, I very much want to take the conversation away from such heavy topics. I don¡¯t want to have to contemplate the fact my classmate¡¯s father will be executed based on evidence found by the father of another classmate.


    ¡°Countering Magical Effects in an hour,¡± I try. ¡°Looking forward to it?¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t wait,¡± says Edward with enough fake enthusiasm that I wouldn¡¯t know he was being sarcastic if I hadn¡¯t suffered through Electra¡¯s last lesson with him.


    <hr>


    Mildred is in Countering Magical Effects that morning, and to look at her you¡¯d hardly know anything was wrong, even though she was there when her father was arrested. Some of the class go out of their way to ignore her, but Elsie sticks loyally by her and they still share a desk.


    Electra is eager to inform us that she will not tolerate discussion of the ill-fated Harvest Ball and its consequences in her class: ¡°You have the entirety of your time not spent within my classroom to do that. Anyone breaking that rule will be¡­ severely punished.¡± She emphasises her point with another ghoulish smile.


    I don¡¯t have any problems with obeying that rule, and thanks to my work over the weekend I¡¯m able to answer all the questions she directs my way and resist the temptation to crawl under the desk and hope she¡¯ll go away. And something fits into place in my mind as Electra sets homework.


    There¡¯s been nothing in the papers yet about the Harvest Ball: even reporters need sleep, and there simply wasn¡¯t time to have full articles written about Lord Cavendish¡¯s arrest in time to have them copied or printed. Edward knew before then, thanks no doubt to his father keeping him up to date.


    He knew about these tensions with Sirgal, too, when they¡¯re still semi-secret.


    Why couldn¡¯t he have known what was going to happen at the Harvest Ball beforehand?


    <hr>


    We have Magical Theory next, so Edward disappears before I have the chance to interrogate him about my revelation. I need to talk to Mildred, I realise. I don¡¯t quite know what I want to say, but ¨C


    ¡°Mildred?¡± I say, moving up alongside her as the class makes its way through the corridors.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she replies. Am I imagining it, or is there a faint tinge of hostility in her voice?


    ¡°I just wanted to say ¨C I¡¯m sorry. Really, I am.¡±


    She turns to look at me, and her face is as unguarded as I¡¯ve seen it: surprise, curiosity and beneath it a deep pain. ¡°Why should you be? It¡¯s not as if it¡¯s your fault.¡±


    ¡°I know, but¡­ really. No-one should have to deal with¡­ well, you know.¡± This is coming out all wrong: I¡¯m trying to get across genuine feeling but everything I say sounds like an empty platitude. What difference does this apology make? ¡°If¡­ if there¡¯s anything I can do to help¡­¡±


    Mildred closes her eyes for a second, and somehow manages to avoid walking into Elsie¡¯s back. ¡°Unless you happen to have the ear of the King or an absurdly large fortune, I doubt you can make much of a difference. Thank you for offering, though.¡±


    And that¡¯s the end of the most awkward of the many awkward conversations I¡¯ve had recently. It leaves me thinking, though. I don¡¯t have the ear of the King or an absurdly large fortune, last time I checked. But I know who has both.


    Lord Blackthorn.


    But¡­ I couldn¡¯t even persuade Edward that it was wrong to execute Mildred¡¯s father, never mind his father. And even if somehow I could find a way? Is it even the right thing to do? He did betray his country, knowing the consequences. (Well. Probably. Unless Lord Blackthorn is even more actually evil than I thought. The courts will at least give Cavendish a fair trial, though.)


    More than anything, I want to go back to a time when I didn¡¯t have to worry about questions like that, when all this would have been a story in the newspapers happening to someone I never knew. It¡¯s selfish of me, I know, but I don¡¯t want to take any part in this story.


    I wish the last week had never happened. I wish I was back at Genford, preparing for my Certificate of Education and knowing nothing about magic and caring nothing about politics ¨C


    And being alone, always alone. Sitting on my own at meals, studying on my own in free periods, barely talking to my classmates.


    Would I go back to that now, if I had the chance?


    I honestly don¡¯t know.


    <hr>


    My extra-curricular research project doesn¡¯t get off to a good start, for the simple reasons that the Academy doesn¡¯t have the books or archives I need and I can¡¯t go elsewhere until the weekend. I do at least talk to Edward about what he knew, though.


    ¡°Everything we say here is ¨C ¡° he begins once we¡¯ve returned to the meeting room.


    ¡°Classified,¡± I finish. ¡°Got it.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t know what was going to happen.¡±


    I stare at him sceptically.


    ¡°My dad said¡­ he was working on something big, and it might be prudent if I didn¡¯t associate with Mildred. So I was able to work out roughly what was going on, but I didn¡¯t know for sure.¡±


    I pause to think for a moment, going through what Edward¡¯s said about Mildred. Things do make a lot more sense knowing that. I suppose it would be awkward politically for them to be associated just before a revelation like this. ¡°Thank you for telling me.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°You deserve to know.¡±


    It might seem like a small thing, but I know Edward well enough to realise that for him it¡¯s very much not small. He trusts me, and he wants to make this friendship work, enough that he¡¯s going against the secrecy he holds almost sacred.


    Thank you isn¡¯t enough to respond to that, but it¡¯s a start.


    <hr>


    It surprises me how quickly the Academy is beginning to feel like home. I¡¯m learning to love the softness of my pillows and the privacy the curtains give me, to get used to Robin¡¯s quiet snoring and climbing the stairs. Even the library isn¡¯t so unsettling after my third visit. I haven¡¯t finished the books I borrowed at the weekend yet, but I return anyway just to lose myself in searching for new treasures.


    And to page through that book on the Blackthorn family. I don¡¯t dare borrow it, not when Rosie would see and remark on it, but¡­ it¡¯s the closest thing I have to an unbiased source, even if it was published ten years ago, before Edward¡¯s grandfather died, and is thus not particularly relevant.


    It is a fascinating exploration of history, though, even if it is brutally harsh about a lot of Edward¡¯s ancestors, in particular his great-grandmother Eleanor. She was Siaril Royal at the time of the Greyford disaster, and according to this volume it was largely her fault. There¡¯s a frustrating lack of detail, which is apparently due to much of the data about the collapse of the Portal Network still being kept secret.


    I sigh and return to the final chapter, which is all I can find on the present Lord Blackthorn. He was never supposed to become a Royal Magician: he had an elder brother, Arthur, who was favoured by his father Lord Thomas until he tragically died seven years before the book¡¯s publication and one before Edward was born. There were many rumours of a rift between Lord Thomas and Henry.


    He was a senior official in the Ministry of Intelligence at that time, though not yet Minister; the book laments security meaning that none of its records can be made available to make a proper sketch of his character. All I¡¯m able to work out is that he showed a disregard stretching almost to contempt for many traditions and unwritten rules of courtly life.


    Well, I could work out more, but that would involve staying in hyperspace for longer than an hour. Which is a very bad idea. So that¡¯s the end of my research until the weekend comes around.

 22. The Right Thing

    The newspapers catch up with events that morning, reporting every detail of the Cavendish scandal and how it was dramatically revealed at the Harvest Ball. Apparently the High Princess has a sense of drama. The City Herald wonders how such a thing could have been allowed to happen: shouldn¡¯t the intelligence services have found it and put a stop to it before?


    I expect Edward to be angry at that thinly-veiled insult of his father¡¯s capabilities, but he laughs out loud. ¡°Oh, that is a mistake,¡± he says. ¡°My dad can and will use this to argue for increased powers to investigate the business of nobles.¡±


    Like many things Edward says, that makes a disturbing amount of sense once he explains it and makes me dislike politics a little more.


    I finish searching the relevant sections of the Herald for information and turn to the Informer. It isn¡¯t particularly hard to find relevant information in that, given that the headline is THE TRAITOR¡¯S DAUGHTER SPEAKS. It appears that they¡¯ve obtained an exclusive interview with Mildred.


    Edward and I read it at the same time, line by line. Mildred had no knowledge of any treasonous activity on her father¡¯s part ¨C and of course she would have informed the government if she¡¯d had so much as the slightest suspicion. Even now she struggles to believe he¡¯s guilty, but she has faith in the stars and in the King¡¯s justice and mercy.


    ¡°She¡¯s good at this,¡± Edward admits, as if conceding that an opponent in a game has made a strong move. ¡°Checking off everything she needs to win popular support for herself at least.¡±


    I can¡¯t think of Mildred as a player in a game, much less on the opposite side of the gameboard from me. She¡¯s a girl whose life has just fallen apart. I know how that feels.


    <hr>


    I spend that morning¡¯s break with Elizabeth. I do like Edward ¨C a lot ¨C but sometimes I just want to spend time with someone who isn¡¯t a Blackthorn, and I haven¡¯t had a chance to get to know her properly.


    We talk over tea and cake in the caf¨¦. It¡¯s awkward, since we¡¯re both dancing around a lot of topics: Malaina, as with every conversation, and we¡¯ve mutually agreed not to talk about the whole treason thing either.


    ¡°So,¡± Elizabeth asks finally. ¡°What are you planning to do once you¡¯re a qualified magician?¡±


    Yeah, apparently we didn¡¯t rule out enough topics. ¡°I have no clue. I¡¯ve been a magician for less than a week.¡± And have been trying very hard not to think about that particular question. It terrifies me. ¡°What about you?¡±


    Elizabeth shrugs. ¡°I was planning to go into the army like my mother, before¡­ well.¡±


    Before Falling. Before Malaina. It has a way of derailing plans.


    ¡°So I¡¯m hoping I still can, but in the Twelfth Division ¨C that¡¯s the one for all magicians. I¡¯ll need to take Magical Combat here next year, and then with luck that¡¯ll get me a chance.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re stuck with Electra for longer, then?¡±


    She hesitates a little, and I remember too late that she was the one who defended Electra a couple of days ago. ¡°She¡¯s been really supportive of my plan. Says she¡¯ll help me make it happen. She reminds me a little of my mother, actually.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°A lot of officers in the military, especially in training¡­ they enforce strict, almost brutal discipline. Make themselves someone everyone in their unit hates and is afraid of. It¡¯s meant to inspire them to work harder and be more disciplined, and also to draw the unit together by giving them a common enemy.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­¡± ridiculous, I¡¯m about to say, but I think for a second and realise that it isn¡¯t. ¡°You think Electra is ¨C ¡°


    She nods. ¡°Sure of it.¡±


    It¡¯s a plausible theory, actually. But¡­ other than the fact that she¡¯s supposed to be teaching us magic rather than military discipline? I¡¯ve seen the way she smiles when she¡¯s contemplating punishing a student. I saw the look in her eyes in that moment when her blade touched my throat.


    Elizabeth is Malaina, too. That means she should have faced the same test for mala sia, if that¡¯s what it was. I glance around to check that no-one is paying attention to our conversation, lean closer over the table, and say softly ¡°She attacked me with a knife.¡±


    ¡°She wh ¨C oh, you mean the mala sia thing? Yeah. Me too.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re¡­ okay with that?¡±


    Elizabeth nods once, sharply. ¡°I can¡¯t say I like it, but I understand why she did it. There are far worse ways she could treat Malaina, if she wanted to.¡±


    Well, she¡¯s not wrong there, but still.


    Electra enjoyed it. That¡¯s the worst part. But I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to be able to persuade Elizabeth that she¡¯s¡­ well.


    <hr>


    I go to the bathroom just before Alchemy, and nearly leave it on hearing choking sobs coming from one of the stalls. Whoever¡¯s crying might want someone to talk to, though. Maybe I can help.


    ¡°Hello?¡± I say. ¡°Can I help you?¡±


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° another sob ¨C ¡°T-Tallulah?¡±


    That¡¯s Mildred¡¯s voice, isn¡¯t it? Stars. ¡°Mildred. I ¨C ¡° What do I tell her? I can¡¯t say it¡¯ll be all right, because it won¡¯t. I can¡¯t tell her I can fix things, because I can¡¯t. ¡°Would it help to talk?¡±


    ¡°Not ¨C not to you,¡± she chokes out with surprising bitterness.


    I can¡¯t help feeling a little hurt. What have I done to deserve that? We¡¯re not exactly friends but we¡¯re friendly, aren¡¯t we? I should just walk away, but I have to ask: ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You might as well be a ¨C a Raven,¡± Mildred answers, her sobs less obvious now. ¡°Anything I tell you, you¡¯ll just pass on ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± I insist. ¡°Mildred, I¡¯m not here to spy on you. I just ¨C I want to help. I know there¡¯s not much I can do, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do you really?¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward will listen to you,¡± she says. ¡°And his father will listen to him. You can get through to them.¡±


    ¡°But what am I supposed to tell them? How am I supposed to ¨C ¡°


    The stool door swings open and Mildred walks out, staring straight ahead. She doesn¡¯t look at me, and I don¡¯t dare meet her eyes.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± she says, splashing water onto her face to try and hide how badly she was trying. ¡°But promise me you¡¯ll try.¡±


    ¡°I promise,¡± I say, because what else can you say? And I mean it, too. I can¡¯t just sit by, knowing that she will lose her father and that perhaps I had the slightest chance of saving him.


    <hr>


    ¡°Mildred put you up to this, didn¡¯t she?¡± asks Edward between forkfuls of salad. We¡¯ve retreated to the private meeting room to talk and eat at the same time.


    My attempts to appeal to his better nature don¡¯t seem to be working. ¡°No! I mean ¨C yes ¨C sort of ¨C ¡° I¡¯m not helping my case here ¨C ¡°She asked me to try and persuade you, and get you to persuade your father, but I wouldn¡¯t have agreed if I didn¡¯t think it was the right thing to do.¡±


    ¡°How are you defining right?¡±


    I stare at Edward in silence for a moment. ¡°It¡¯s not something you can define. You know when something is right and when it isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°And is it right for my father to defend the man he¡¯s accusing, and doubtless be accused of having some ulterior motive for it? Is it right for the king to forgive the man who betrayed him, and let others think they too could commit treason and survive?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s right to save a man¡¯s life! It¡¯s right to not leave a girl crying in a bathroom because her father¡¯s going to die when you could stop that from happening!¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°Do you know how many people are executed in the kingdom each year?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with ¨C ¡° I begin, but I realise where he¡¯s going halfway through.


    ¡°Hundreds. How many of them have you given even a passing thought to?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° Tears are pricking at the corners of my eyes. I bite my lip. I¡¯m not going to cry over this.


    ¡°And now because it¡¯s the father of someone you know, it¡¯s clearly the right thing to do to save him?¡±


    He¡¯s right. That¡¯s what I hate most of all. Because what¡¯s so special about Mildred¡¯s father to me, except that I know his daughter? Would I have given him more than an idle thought if I hadn¡¯t seen what losing him would do to Mildred?


    I can¡¯t deal with this. I can¡¯t even convince myself that it¡¯s right, let alone Lord starry Blackthorn who probably doesn¡¯t even have a moral code left ¨C


    I can¡¯t do this ¨C I can¡¯t even feel my tears beginning to fall, it¡¯s as if I¡¯m watching someone else crying ¨C


    Right. Malaina. All I need right now.


    Breathe, Tallulah.


    Edward is there, holding my hand. I grip it back as if it¡¯s the rock I cling to in a vast ocean. I breathe slowly, forcing myself to focus on just the feeling of his hand in mine and the slowing of my pounding heart.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Edward after a while, when I feel more myself. ¡°Caring about something more when you see its impact isn¡¯t a moral failing, it¡¯s just how people think. I didn¡¯t realise you¡¯d react like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± I reply, relieved to find my voice steady.


    ¡°And nor is it yours,¡± he says without a second¡¯s hesitation. ¡°You¡¯re a good person, Tallulah. You see someone suffering and you want to make it better. But sometimes¡­ sometimes it¡¯s not that simple.¡±


    I know that, and yet still I can¡¯t help wanting it to be that simple.


    ¡°Besides,¡± he continues, ¡°I¡­ I agree with you. At least a little. There could be another option, some way of keeping Mildred¡¯s father alive and minimising the consequences. And I think it¡¯s worth trying to find that way, if we can.¡±


    ¡°And yet just now¡­¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to convince my father, you¡¯ll need to know the sorts of arguments he¡¯ll make against it.¡±


    I blink a few times. If I hadn¡¯t just come through a Malaina episode, that would have been enough to bring on a whole new one. ¡°You know when I agreed I¡¯d tell you if you were doing something normal people don¡¯t do to their normal friends?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Yeah. I probably should have asked first, shouldn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Yes. You should have.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°Tallulah, would you like me to arrange a meeting with my father about this?¡±


    I haven¡¯t thought that far ahead; I haven¡¯t even thought beyond the end of this conversation. ¡°Do you think¡­¡±


    ¡°It has a chance of working? Yes. But you have to go about it in the right way. That means persuading him that it¡¯s in his own best interest to advocate for mercy. What you said to me is not going to work.¡±


    I sigh. What have I promised to do?


    No, that¡¯s stupid of me. It doesn¡¯t matter what I have to deal with if it could only work.


    ¡°So I need to understand politics. And how your father thinks. I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I can help you. I will, if you want me to.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just¡­¡±


    ¡°Do it myself? I¡¯m not the one who really believes in what we¡¯re trying to do. He¡¯ll respect that, if you combine it with an understanding of political reality.¡±


    Yeah. A pity I don¡¯t have an understanding of political reality, then.


    I¡¯m going to fail, I know I am.


    But I¡¯d never forgive myself if I didn¡¯t even try.


    ¡°All right. I¡¯d like to meet your father.¡±


    <hr>


    ¡°Can we talk?¡± asks Elsie as I¡¯m packing up my things after a largely-futile attempt at conjuring grains of sand. ¡°In private ¨C if you don¡¯t mind ¨C ¡° Her eyes flick to Edward, and if she¡¯s trying to hide her nervousness it doesn¡¯t work.


    ¡°Not at all,¡± he says. ¡°See you later, Tallulah.¡±


    Elsie and I stay behind for a couple of minutes until everyone else has filed out of the classroom. ¡°I want to do something for Mildred,¡± she says.


    Yes. So do I. I¡¯m going to meet the Black Raven and try and persuade him to help her. Is this what Malaina does, takes away your sanity so you can¡¯t recognise when something is a terrible idea?


    ¡°Oh?¡± is all I say aloud.


    ¡°Obviously we can¡¯t fix her problems, or even help her with them. But we could do something ¨C just to show her that we¡¯re still her friends and we¡¯re going to stick by her.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a nice idea,¡± I say carefully. ¡°Did you have anything in mind?¡± The intention is good, but I doubt it¡¯ll mean anything in the end.


    ¡°I was thinking ¨C we could get her some kind of a gift ¨C maybe we could go to the City Market this weekend, see if we can find something she¡¯d like? If you don¡¯t have any other plans?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I reply without thinking. Not unless Lord Blackthorn decides he wants to spend his weekend listening to an idealistic teenager try and persuade him to let his enemy live. ¡°Yeah. Sure. Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    ¡°Great! And we could explore more of the City together at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I reply, forcing a smile.

 23. Research Project

    There are a few dozen recorded cases of a punishment for treason other than death, at least that I¡¯ve managed to track down. Two were extremely close to the King before their betrayal, so Charlotte Ginger and Thomas the Defender let them live out of some lingering attachment. Three more committed treason against Lucius the Usurper, and their punishments were quite possibly worse than death.


    Another dozen or so occurred during a time of war, and the traitors were sent to the most dangerous parts of the battlefront with the expectation they would die there, though the two who managed to survive the war received full pardons and returned to life at court.


    It all makes for fascinating reading, but none of those are precedents I can use to argue that Lord Cavendish should be spared. There are more useful cases, though: several traitors had their sentences reduced in exchange for naming their collaborators and contacts. Surely Lord Blackthorn can see the merit in that approach, being Minister for Intelligence?


    Then there are the miscellaneous cases. Iris Woodward was a ranking priestess of the Temple four hundred years ago, and at the time the law prohibited the execution of priests. She was sentenced to life in prison, but died of supposed food poisoning a month or two later. A couple of the more radical sects still hold that she was a walking star, though the Temple itself has no official stance on the matter.


    And then Georgiana Blackthorn, daughter and heir of Felix. She was found guilty of supporting her father¡¯s illegal seizure of the throne during the purges that followed the end of the Second Civil War, but suffered only the seizure of most of the Blackthorns¡¯ wealth and the loss of lands that would have resulted from the new anti-magician laws anyway. No-one quite knows why she was spared: some historians claim that she was a childhood friend of Charles the Ruthless, while others argue that her father made it a condition of his surrender.


    I don¡¯t think the circumstances of this case are quite that special. Still, I¡¯m putting together a few arguments that stand up to scrutiny: potential gain of intelligence about whatever Sirgalese faction is plotting to provoke war, the risk that an execution could agitate Lord Cavendish¡¯s political allies and turn them against the throne, the option to exploit the situation to show the King¡¯s great mercy and wisdom.


    It''s a start.


    <hr>


    ¡°How¡¯s it going?¡± asks Edward, poking his head through the door of the study room.


    I shrug. ¡°Making progress.¡±


    ¡°You missed dinner.¡±


    I blink a few times and glance up at the clock. It¡¯s seven and fifteen after noon, and now he mentions it I am rather hungry. ¡°Oh. Oops.¡±


    ¡°I brought snacks,¡± he says, stepping inside to reveal that he¡¯s holding a plateful of fruit and cheese.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply absently.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to help anyone if you work yourself to death,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Skipping meals isn¡¯t a healthy habit.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to skip dinner! I just¡­ lost track of time.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± says Edward in a tone that suggests he doesn¡¯t entirely believe me, even though I¡¯m telling the truth. ¡°Anyway. Have a break and some food.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter, clearing a space on the desk for him to set the plate down. ¡°Have you heard ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I only sent the message five hours ago. He¡¯s still at work. There¡¯s a debate in Parliament about reforming the tax system today, and I imagine he¡¯s extra busy dealing with the Cavendish case as well.¡±


    ¡°Tax reform,¡± I say, latching onto something that isn¡¯t what¡¯s consuming my mind right now. ¡°What¡­ sort of tax reform?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know the details. I think they¡¯re planning on increasing death taxes so they have more money for the defence budget.¡±


    Because of the possibly-impending war that I¡¯m not supposed to know about ¨C


    ¡°Wait. I can¡¯t talk about, uh, Sirgalese relations with your dad, can I?¡±


    ¡°Not unless you want him knowing I accidentally told you state secrets. And I would prefer not to have to deal with that conversation. But if you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯ll think of something else.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I take a slice of cheese. It¡¯s a little strong for my tastes, but the aftertaste is quite pleasant.


    ¡°Speaking of tax reform,¡± says Edward, ¡°have I told you how my dad got income tax reforms passed?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, shooting him a sceptical look.


    ¡°It¡¯s a better story than it sounds, honestly. Helps you understand how he thinks, but mostly I just want an excuse to tell it.¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Go ahead, then.¡±


    ¡°About six or seven years ago, income tax was just a flat percentage of your earnings, no matter how much money you earned. And¡­ do you know anything about how ministerial budgets work?¡±


    ¡°Why would I?¡±


    ¡°Right, yes. I guess you wouldn¡¯t. How it works is each Ministry is given a certain amount of funding per year, and then the Minister allocates that money to where it¡¯s needed within the department. Staff wages, rent on premises, equipment, whatever else they need. Each minister¡¯s budget has to be approved by Parliament, but that¡¯s mostly a formality. Barely anyone even reads through the budget before approving it.¡±


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    I begin to get a sense of where this story is going.


    ¡°It takes a lot of money to run a good intelligence network. A lot more money than the Treasury was giving the Ministry for Intelligence. So my dad submitted his budget, and it was approved. And what they didn¡¯t realise was that he¡¯d given himself a very large negative salary, so he was effectively paying for half the Ministry¡¯s operations out of his own pocket.¡±


    ¡°You can do that?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Well. Not now, you can¡¯t. Strangely enough, Parliament decided to pass a law stating that no-one should pay to do their job shortly after this incident. But at the time, there was nothing stopping him. So he proposed a tax reform law, which stipulated among other things that anyone earning below a certain threshold doesn¡¯t pay income tax. It was rejected, because there was a lot of opposition to it and a lot of people who¡¯d reject anything proposed by a Blackthorn on principle.¡±


    He''s grinning. ¡°And then payday came around, and he walked into the Treasury and demanded their money. Because if you have a negative salary, you pay negative income tax. That caused the scandal you¡¯d think it would, though he did intimidate an official into actually giving him the money. And when he was called out in Parliament, he just pointed out that what he had done was perfectly legal. And that he¡¯d wanted to prevent himself from doing this, but they¡¯d rejected the law that would have done that.¡±


    ¡°¡­wow. That actually worked?¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°Made him a few enemies, but got the tax reforms passed and the Ministry properly funded. And several laws passed to make sure no-one could ever do that again.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I can see why.¡±


    If that was supposed to be a lesson in how Lord Blackthorn thinks, all it¡¯s taught me is that I have no idea beyond ¡°prone to exploitation of loopholes¡±. Though¡­ could I use that? A scheme like the one Edward described is exactly what we need right now.


    ¡°Does he¡­ enjoy doing things like that?¡± I ask.


    Edward narrows his eyes. ¡°What exactly do you mean?¡±


    ¡°If¡­ would the challenge of finding a way to spare Cavendish without the political damage be enough in itself to motivate him to try it?¡±


    ¡°Oh! I hadn¡¯t even thought of that.¡± Naturally, he then proceeds to snuff out that flicker of hope. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, no. He isn¡¯t in this to indulge himself in scheming for scheming¡¯s sake.¡±


    ¡°Then what does he want?¡± I feel a little silly asking that, because it should have been the very first question that came to mind. The best way to understand someone¡¯s actions is first to understand their motivations. Miss Jenkins used to say that a lot; it¡¯s good advice even when dealing with figures not yet consigned to history, and I¡¯d nearly forgotten it.


    ¡°To keep Rasin safe,¡± Edward replies without hesitation. ¡°Whatever¡¯s best for his country.¡±


    I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m so surprised at how¡­ idealistic that sounds. I¡¯ve probably heard too many rumours about how he¡¯s planning to seize the throne or otherwise increase his own power. ¡°And,¡± I say grimly, ¡°in this case¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­it would be hard to argue that it¡¯s in the country¡¯s best interests to let a traitor live,¡± Edward finishes in almost the same tone. ¡°And it would be hard to argue it¡¯s in your best interest to keep thinking about this instead of taking care of yourself. So eat.¡±


    I accept defeat and take another piece of cheese.


    I make little further progress over the next day, despite the amount of time I pour into the project. Enough that I realise at ten after noon that I haven¡¯t finished the Magical Law and Culture essay due the next afternoon. So I lose two hours¡¯ sleep, and the sleep I do get isn¡¯t of the best quality. In fact I wake at some stupidly early hour, convinced that if I were a better researcher or knew more about politics I¡¯d be able to solve this unsolvable problem I¡¯ve set myself.


    And that leads to a Malaina episode I don¡¯t notice until it¡¯s nearly too late, but I do eventually manage to control my breathing and fall back asleep without waking anyone else.


    <hr>


    ¡°Have you heard?¡± I ask Edward for the fifth time, the moment I come down for breakfast. I¡¯m normally a morning person, but today he looks almost offensively alert compared to me.


    Edward shakes his head.


    Surely Lord Blackthorn must have found the two minutes to reply to his son by now?


    We¡¯re short on time, the newspapers are eager to remind us. The trial of Lord Cavendish for high treason begins today. Though at least it¡¯s likely to go on for several weeks, so we have that long to arrange the meeting and find a compelling argument.


    I¡¯m quieter than normal in the day¡¯s lessons, my focus stolen by the knowledge of the pile of books to cross-reference as soon as I get the time. It takes me a couple of seconds to even realise that Sam is asking me a question, and a good few more to pull together a half-coherent answer.


    I can¡¯t meet Mildred¡¯s eyes all day. I promised her I¡¯d find a way, and I¡¯m failing.


    At least I can catch up on sleep that night. Or that¡¯s what I think, until Hannah announces that it¡¯s her birthday (did I know that? Should I have known that?) and our dormitory is celebrating it. I retreat behind the curtains, consider sleeping, realise that¡¯s not going to work and continue reading through an old tome about the Temple¡¯s stance on the death penalty by a conjured light.


    After a while the words start swimming before my eyes. I find myself reading the same sentence three times and still not being able to remember what it says a few seconds later. I¡¯m just so tired¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Mildred,¡± I mutter, the book sliding from my lap.


    Sudden bright light. I open my eyes and blink a few times. I¡¯m lying on top of something hard: the book I was reading last night. It¡¯s bright, too bright. The curtains are open, and Lucy and Aisha are perched on the end of the bed.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡± asks Aisha softly.


    ¡°Mm,¡± I mutter, still mostly asleep. ¡°What time¡­¡±


    ¡°Eight and forty.¡±


    That¡¯s enough to jolt me awake. Eight and forty. Alchemy is at nine. Do I even have time for breakfast? I can¡¯t skip breakfast. I can never function before I¡¯ve eaten. I leap out of bed ¨C or try to; turns out sleeping half-sitting on top of a heavy book makes you somewhat stiff when you wake up.


    ¡°Tallulah, are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I insist, pulling my trunk out from under my bed and fumbling for a set of clean clothes. ¡°Just got to get to breakfast.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not fine, Tallulah,¡± says Aisha. ¡°I saw you in class yesterday, you were clearly distracted.¡±


    ¡°The Death Penalty and Temple Doctrine Through the Centuries,¡± Lucy says, picking up the book ¨C I feel a flash of guilt for so badly mistreating it, and hope I haven¡¯t caused any permanent damage. ¡°You were reading that last night instead of sleeping?¡±


    Oh. I don¡¯t have an answer for that, so I ignore it, snatch up the last of my clothes and pad to the bathroom to change.


    ¡°Is this about what¡¯s happening with Lord Cavendish?¡± guesses Aisha. ¡°It¡¯s shocking, I know, and one of our classmates as well ¨C but ¨C ¡°


    I step into the bathroom, ignoring her.


    ¡°Tallulah, you need to talk to someone ¨C ¡°


    I slam the door in Aisha¡¯s face, hating myself for it.


    They don¡¯t understand. They don¡¯t understand that I¡¯m meeting with a man I¡¯m quite frankly terrified of and that what I say to him could determine whether Mildred¡¯s father lives or dies. They can¡¯t understand I¡¯m failing.


    And I can¡¯t talk to them. I can¡¯t talk to anyone about this.


    I can¡¯t do this any more.


    I¡¯m not even particularly surprised to hear my heart pounding in my ears and feel as if I¡¯m watching myself collapse onto the bathroom floor. Breathe, Tallulah.


    Why? What difference does it make?


    Look at me. It¡¯s okay.


    That¡¯s Edward¡¯s voice in my mind, and I almost laugh at how stupid I¡¯m being.


    There is someone I can talk to.


    I just need to make it to breakfast and not be late to Alchemy.

 24. Abbey

    In the end I¡¯m one minute late, which is still one minute too many. Thankfully Mary, the Alchemy teacher, isn¡¯t as strict as a lot of the other teachers and lets my lateness go unremarked.


    ¡°Are you all right?¡± asks Edward quietly as I slide into the seat next to him.


    ¡°Overslept,¡± I reply. ¡°Can we talk later?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    That¡¯s as much conversation as we can have in class, but it¡¯s enough to stop me from disrupting it with a Malaina episode. I focus on taking careful and precise notes, the way I form each letter, as if that could possibly make any difference. It helps distract me from how my new life is already falling apart, at least.


    The lesson seems to last forever, and Magical Theory after even longer. But I manage to stay awake and make it to the meeting room without a complete breakdown, which is surprisingly good.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± asks Edward the moment the door shuts behind us, and I flinch at the urgency in his tone.


    ¡°I¡­¡± Now I¡¯m about to say it, it feels pathetic. What¡¯s happening to make me feel as if I¡¯m breaking? ¡°I can¡¯t do this any more.¡±


    ¡°Is this about the project? I can tell my father not to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I snap. If I don¡¯t meet him, it¡¯ll all be for nothing and Mildred¡¯s father will die. I have to keep going. Somehow.


    ¡°You¡¯re not doing Mildred any good by working yourself to death, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m not. That¡¯s the entire point.¡± He doesn¡¯t understand. Of course he doesn¡¯t. I don¡¯t know why I expected anything different.


    ¡°Tallulah. You are not failing.¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°Really?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen your work. It¡¯s good, really good.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°Tallulah, no-one could expect you to produce the perfect argument. Your expectations are unrealistic, and the fact you¡¯re not meeting them isn¡¯t your fault except for setting them in the first place.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± I ask. ¡°Am I just supposed to give up? Let him die?¡±


    Edward stares at me for a long moment, and I realise that¡¯s exactly what he thinks I should do. He doesn¡¯t really care about this the way I do. He set up the meeting for me rather than for Mildred or her father, and now it¡¯s not doing me any good¡­


    I imagine looking Mildred in the eye and telling her I gave up. ¡°I¡¯m not doing that.¡±


    ¡°Okay. But you can¡¯t keep going like this, can you?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admit.


    ¡°Sooner or later, you¡¯ll hit breaking point, and¡­ you have to stop before that.¡±


    It might already be too late.


    ¡°If it makes you feel better about it, you won¡¯t persuade anyone by being a sleep-deprived wreck.¡±


    It kind of does, actually.


    ¡°Just take a couple of days away from it, okay? After the weekend you can come back to it with a fresh mind.¡±


    ¡°Mm.¡±


    ¡°Promise me you won¡¯t work on the project until after the weekend?¡±


    ¡°What if he wants to meet before then?¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that ¨C ¡°


    Edward sighs. ¡°Okay. I don¡¯t. But it¡¯s unlikely, and honestly I think you¡¯d do better with only what you have now and a day or two¡¯s rest than after another two days¡¯ work. Now promise.¡±


    He isn¡¯t going to take no for an answer, and I appreciate that. ¡°I promise.¡±


    And I keep to that promise, stubbornly ignoring the voice that tells me I¡¯m wasting time, for the rest of the day. The papers the next morning have more reports of the trial; Lord Blackthorn began giving testimony yesterday. There are a lot of legal technicalities about the intersection of Intelligence matters which are supposed to remain secret and the process of justice which is supposed to be public, so from what I can work out most of the day was spent negotiating what exactly the lawyers are allowed to ask him and what he¡¯s obliged to answer.


    ¡°See,¡± says Edward, ¡°you have time. They¡¯ll be bogged down in this for days. Longer, if the lawyers want to drag it out, which Cavendish¡¯s certainly will.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I agree absently, wondering what good all this time will do me.


    I have to admit, though, Edward is right. I feel far better after having slept properly and taken time to eat proper meals. I wonder where he picked up good habits about that, given the absurdly long hours his father must work.


    Elsie and I meet early that morning: we¡¯ve agreed to visit the Abbey Royal before going to the Market and want to avoid the inevitable crowds. It doesn¡¯t take long to sign out and cross the Central Ring ¨C I don¡¯t look at the statue of the Mages, not wanting to be reminded of last weekend¡¯s revelations.


    I¡¯ve come to the wrong place to avoid the Mages, though. The Esteral Altar is directly in front of us, down the main aisle, the second we open the door. It¡¯s the site of the Mages¡¯ greatest miracle, the reason the Abbey was built here and the most sacred place in the kingdom.


    A thousand years ago, Rasin as a kingdom didn¡¯t exist. Its lands were divided and claimed by half a dozen constantly-feuding tribes. Most of the historical sources are epic poems or Temple scripture rather than accurate accounts of events, but they do seem to agree on certain facts.


    The two largest tribes had, after months of careful negotiation, arranged a marriage alliance between their respective heirs, Edmund and Hilda. All their lords and nobles gathered in what was then a fortress-city on the river that marked the border between the lands to celebrate the wedding, which would take place on the last day of the year, the Holy Day known as Esteral.


    And then, the night before the wedding, Edmund was murdered in his sleep.


    His family and tribe were naturally furious, especially since they had no other heir, and blamed the other tribe, who were equally furious about this insult. Many years more of bitter war were inevitable.


    Enter the Mages.


    Three young magicians from a quiet mountain village, said to be more powerful than any known before them, even to have slain a dragon, simply walked in and claimed they could raise Edmund from the dead. And then they actually did it.


    Edmund, upon being resurrected, swore oaths of loyalty to the Mages to repay this great debt, and eventually all the leaders of the two tribes swore the same oaths and chose the Mages to be their rulers. That was how Rasin was born.


    And a thousand years of history later, Elsie and I walk towards the altar that marks the spot where the resurrection took place. It sits atop five long, shallow stone steps. On the step below it sits the sacred throne on which every king since Philippa the Bright has been crowned.


    It¡¯s not even close to the grandeur you¡¯d expect from a throne. A simple wooden chair, with the symbol of the Mages carved into it: three intersecting circles and a single point in the centre.


    We can only ascend as far as the second step: powerful wards prevent the public from going any further. The third step is reserved for priests giving services, the fourth for the king at a coronation or other ceremonial event, and the fifth no-one has been able to pass since before the Abbey was built; the altar was placed by magic.


    On the edge of the second step, just below the third, sits a long row of burning candles. Each one of them represents a dead soul, and a prayer that one day that soul will be brought back like Edmund was.


    Elsie kneels on the second step and takes a candle from her bag. Oh, I realise, feeling a stab of pity as I kneel beside her.


    She sets the candle down in a gap in the row and whispers an incantation; it lights at once and begins to burn.


    I don¡¯t know that spell; she must have learnt it herself, possibly just for this moment. I¡¯m not sure I want to know that spell, considering the arson I¡¯ve already committed.


    We withdraw slowly, not turning away from the altar and the empty throne until we¡¯ve reached the bottom of the steps and stepped to one side to let others climb.


    ¡°Who¡­¡± I ask.


    ¡°My aunt,¡± Elsie says quietly. ¡°She lived with us. She was a second mother, really. She died last year. I miss her every day.¡± There are tears brimming in her eyes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say mechanically. ¡°May she ever walk among the stars.¡±


    ¡°She does, I¡¯m sure of it. If anyone deserves to walk among the stars, it¡¯s her.¡±


    We sit in silence for a minute or two before setting off to explore the crypts. With two notable exceptions, there are no kings buried there, but they have the right to nominate others for that highest honour so there are many lords, magicians, generals and creators of great works resting here. Including Edward¡¯s ancestors: Philippa the Bright infamously granted every descendent of Richard Blackthorn the right to be buried here, not doing much to quash the rumours about their relationship being closer than that of king and general.


    I don¡¯t want to visit the Blackthorn family vault, though. It doesn¡¯t feel right doing that without Edward¡¯s presence and permission.


    Instead we go to the Martyr¡¯s Tomb, the second most sacred site in the Abbey. When Isabella the Pious died, she asked to be buried in the Abbey she had built, and her funeral was held here in the crypts. As any self-respecting student of history knows, her brother Lucius had made sure the Abbey was connected by tunnels to his residence, the palace that would one day become the Academy, and assassins hired by him crept through the tunnels and murdered High Princess Elizabeth at her mother¡¯s funeral.


    Several decades and a Civil War later, Elizabeth was proclaimed a martyr for her courage and dignity in the face of death, and reburied in her mother¡¯s grave. In fact she¡¯s known to history as the Martyr, the only uncrowned king ever to have been granted a byname.


    That grave bears a simple inscription: Here lie Isabella the Pious, who built this Abbey, and her daughter Elizabeth the Martyr, who died here.


    We pay our respects to the long-dead kings in solemn silence, and I find myself contemplating just how twisted you¡¯d have to be to murder your niece at her mother¡¯s funeral. Even for the throne, surely nothing could be worth such a dreadful price.


    Then we wander around the crypt, exploring the rest of the tombs and talking about the people buried in them. I¡¯m startled to discover the grave of Elizabeth Waterford, one of the greatest generals of the River Wars and the woman my former school was named after.


    I remember being eager to find out all about her when I was accepted into Genford, hoping that she¡¯d be someone I could relate to or even try to emulate. No such luck: she was known to be viciously anti-intellectual, criticising academics and scholars for having no understanding of reality and how wars were fought on the front lines. Ironically, the battles she commanded are studied in almost every course on military history.


    ¡°So,¡± asks Elsie as we wander out of the crypts. ¡°Do you think Richard and Philippa slept together?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Straight to the controversial questions, then. I don¡¯t know. She certainly never had his child, but if it did happen there are hardly going to be records of it.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think they did,¡± Elsie muses. ¡°Philippa loved both of her husbands. Wait ¨C no ¨C not at the same time ¨C that came out wrong ¨C ¡°


    I laugh again. Philippa¡¯s first husband was long dead when she remarried after becoming king. ¡°Last time I checked she wasn¡¯t a bigamist. Though even if she was, she¡¯d still be a better king than Lucius.¡±


    ¡°A wet fish would be better than Lucius.¡±


    We emerge from the crypts still finding creative ways to insult a long-dead usurper, and walk out of the main door of the Abbey and straight into a protest.

 25. Protest

    The Central Ring is thronged with people; it¡¯s so packed we don¡¯t have a chance of getting through it. A few people have climbed up onto the statue. The noise is deafening: half a dozen different chants are echoing through the crowd, the most prominent of which is ¡°We want the King!¡±


    A regiment of soldiers stand around the edges of the ring, blocking people from passing into the Ring from any of the four great roads or leaving it for any of the Kingdom¡¯s most important buildings. I recognise the purple-and-gold insignia emblazoned on their armour: the High Royal Guard.


    There are maybe half a dozen other people gathered on the steps of the Abbey, excluding the five soldiers standing at their base. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡± I ask the nearest man, raising my voice to be heard above the crowd.


    He removes a pipe from the corner of his mouth and exhales a little smoke. ¡°Protesting the new death taxes,¡± he replies. ¡°Saying it¡¯ll hurt the poor and line the coffers of the rich. Demanding audience with the King.¡±


    ¡°Will it? Hurt the poor, I mean.¡±


    The man shrugs. ¡°Not that much. The taxes are taken as a proportion of the deceased¡¯s estate, so most poor families won¡¯t lose more than a few silver pieces.¡±


    Which is still a vast amount, to them. This man doesn¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to be poor.


    I haven¡¯t known true poverty myself, of course, but many of my friends from junior school would come to school in patched-up clothes because they couldn¡¯t afford new ones. I remember once one of the teachers was furious at a couple of them for not being able to afford textbooks.


    I can¡¯t quite pin down the man¡¯s accent, I realise. It¡¯s not quite the polished speech of a noble, but nor is it the twang of the City. Is he foreign?


    ¡°Will the King see them?¡± asks Elsie.


    ¡°Not if they come to his doorstep like this, he won¡¯t. A small group, with well-organised objections, yes. But this is barely better than a mob.¡±


    I suddenly remember Edward telling me a couple of days ago why his father hadn¡¯t replied to his note. There was a tax reform debate in Parliament. That must have been when they agreed this new death tax, but¡­ ¡°The new taxes were only just introduced,¡± I say aloud. ¡°Why are there protests so soon?¡±


    The man gives me a searching look. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says. ¡°That wouldn¡¯t happen naturally. Someone is inciting the people, causing unrest.¡±


    ¡°But why?¡± asks Elsie.


    ¡°I only wish I knew.¡±


    I can make a pretty good guess, though. This has happened a few times before in history, and possibly more that aren¡¯t known. Protests and riots make the king look weak and out of touch with their people, and a weak king is one step closer to no longer being a king.


    So someone is trying to undermine the king¡¯s power, possibly as a way to increase their own.


    Lord Blackthorn?


    If the papers are to be believed, he¡¯s not above using protests for his own purposes.


    If Edward is to be believed, he has no designs on the throne.


    I want to ask Edward about it, but I don¡¯t think saying So, I think someone is plotting to steal the throne, is it your dad? is likely to end well.


    ¡°I guess you girls are looking to get out of here?¡± the man asks.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°The Abbey has a back entrance. It¡¯s normally only for priests, but they¡¯ll let you use it in a situation like this. Just tell them you want to leave but can¡¯t go out the main way because of the protests.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± says Elsie. ¡°Come on, Tallulah, let¡¯s go.¡± She tugs open the door of the Abbey again and steps through it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I repeat, ¡°for answering my questions.¡± I turn to leave.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Roberts.¡±


    I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. How does ¨C why ¨C what does he want with me?


    ¡°A-actually, I might just stay a little longer,¡± I say to Elsie. ¡°See what happens. Wait for me inside.¡± I¡¯m not letting her be dragged into this¡­ whatever it is.


    ¡°Are you sure ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, more snappishly than I¡¯d like, and then more calmly: ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure. See you in a few minutes.¡±


    Elsie nods and tugs the great door shut behind her.


    For a moment I wish I¡¯d followed her, but curiosity wins out over common sense. I turn to face the man, willing my voice to remain steady. ¡°Who are you,¡± I say, ¡°and how do you know my name?¡±


    He smiles a little. ¡°Your friend told me. It¡¯s an uncommon name, and you have a distinctive appearance. I¡¯d be surprised if there was more than one person fitting your first name and description in the City.¡±


    Which answers one of my questions without really telling me anything.


    The man looks away from me, back to the sea of chanting protestors. ¡°There seems to be an incident occurring at the Central Bank,¡± he remarks. ¡°Investigate it, would you?¡±


    One of the other women standing on the steps jerks her head up in response. ¡°All of us, sir? But you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I can look after myself. Thank you for your concern. You have your orders.¡±


    Okay, yeah. I¡¯m in much worse trouble than I realised. Or perhaps not, if he¡¯s sending his people to the Central Bank.


    But no. If he¡¯s a magician then I don¡¯t stand a chance in a fight, not without unleashing the full power of Malaina.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    There is nothing that you cannot make worse by an active episode.


    Electra is right, stars damn her. An explosive attack of magic now could be the spark that turns this protest into a riot.


    Maybe I can get out? There¡¯s no question of going through the Ring, but I could retreat back to the Abbey ¨C


    The five people other than the man and I on the steps pivot on the spot and vanish into thin air. Teleportation. Are they¡­ what was that acronym Edward used? SMOs? Yes, that was it. Special Magical Operatives.


    Focus, Tallulah. I take a step backwards, towards the Abbey doors.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to hurt you,¡± the man says. ¡°I just want to talk.¡±


    I bite back the snarky reply that comes to mind and repeat ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard you¡¯re a smart girl, Miss Roberts. You can work it out for yourself.¡±


    All right. Fine. I¡¯ll play his stupid games.


    What do I know?


    He¡¯s dangerous, extremely so, even though he doesn¡¯t look it at first glance. He has a team (unit? Troop?) of Special Magical Operatives at his command, and is using them to investigate the protest. And ¨C none of the High Royal Guard manning the bottom of the steps seemed surprised or alarmed by that.


    And he knows who I am.


    Why would someone like that know my ¨C


    Congratulations, you are officially a person of interest to the Ministry for Intelligence.


    I study him more closely, tilting my head to one side. I can see the resemblance now: it wasn¡¯t immediately apparent but the lines of his face, the shape of his nose, clearly resemble Edward¡¯s features.


    ¡°Lord Blackthorn,¡± I whisper.


    Stars.


    The sensible part of my mind notes that this is probably good news: he wouldn¡¯t hurt his son¡¯s friend.


    The rest of me is too busy panicking to care.


    It¡¯s not quite the same kind of panic as a Malaina episode, but I force myself to breathe slowly and calmly regardless.


    He nods. ¡°Edward has told me a lot about you. He likes you.¡±


    There¡¯s a faintly threatening edge to his tone. I don¡¯t quite know why.


    ¡°I like him,¡± I reply.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it. What did Miss Cavendish offer you?¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°I¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°To attempt to intercede with me on her father¡¯s behalf,¡± he clarifies.


    Oh. He thinks I¡¯m being bribed or something ¨C ¡°Nothing! It¡¯s the right thing to do!¡±


    ¡°So she did ask you to do it?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes ¨C but ¨C I chose to ¨C ¡°


    He sighs and stares at me for a long moment. ¡°There are hundreds of people who want my attention, to persuade me to vote a certain way on some issue or overlook their misdemeanours or make their case to the King. Sometimes, people will look for shortcuts to do that. For instance, befriending my son.¡±


    Stars. ¡°I would ¨C I¡¯m not using him! I would never ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You understand how it appears, though? After knowing my son less than two weeks, you¡¯re writing political statements for him and begging for an audience with me to plead for the life of a traitor.¡±


    I take another breath, set aside my anger. Pretend I¡¯m a powerful, paranoid man convinced that everyone is playing the game of politics. Yeah, from that perspective I can definitely see how he got to that conclusion.


    But how do I persuade him that I¡¯m wrong? ¡°The statement was entirely his idea,¡± I say. ¡°He asked for my help. And the meeting with you¡­ if he¡¯d refused I wouldn¡¯t have pushed him.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± he says. ¡°Well? I¡¯m here now, listening to you. Persuade me.¡±


    I can¡¯t ¨C


    I haven¡¯t touched my notes in a day ¨C


    I don¡¯t remember anything ¨C


    There was supposed to be time ¨C


    I can¡¯t ¨C


    ¡°Malaina,¡± Lord Blackthorn notes, somewhere far away. ¡°Interesting.¡±


    Interesting. He finds it interesting.


    I have to ¨C


    ¡°Before the world,¡± he recites absently, ¡°before our distant ancestors, before anything we know, there were the stars. After the world, after our distant descendants, after everything we know, there will be the stars. They are eternal. Always, they watch us. Always, we walk beneath them. Whether we know it or not, whether we believe it or not, they are our guardians.¡±


    There¡¯s a calm, soothing rhythm to his recitation. The First Book of Stars, oldest of the Temple¡¯s many sacred texts, I think.


    ¡°It is our sacred duty to be thankful to the stars for this great honour. To honour the stars as they honour us, to watch them as they watch us.¡±


    I stare at him blankly for a moment.


    ¡°We want the King!¡± the protestors chant, and it takes me a moment to realise how loud it is, how clearly I can hear them. I¡¯m here, in this moment, not a Malaina episode.


    ¡°I¡­ thank you,¡± I say, grudgingly. ¡°But how ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ve known Malaina before. That sort of thing has a tendency to work. Though it¡¯s more effective if the recitation has personal meaning in some way.¡±


    I don¡¯t think I¡¯m pious enough for the First Book of Stars to hold that sort of meaning to me. Maybe it was just the strangeness of it. Or maybe it was that his voice reminds me, now I know what to look for, of his son¡¯s.


    But something to recite that does have personal meaning to me? I close my eyes for a second and remember my eager nine-year-old self, inspired by her young and energetic new history teacher, determined to memorise the list.


    ¡°Charles First-King,¡± I whisper to myself. ¡°Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.¡±


    I¡¯m not fighting a Malaina episode now, but I think when I inevitably do again the names of kings will help me.


    He watches me curiously for a second, and then asks ¡°Are you afraid of me?¡±


    There is no right answer to that question, so I give the truthful one instead: ¡°In a way, yes.¡±


    He laughs a little. ¡°And yet you were able to remain calm, up until I asked you to persuade me. Why is that?¡±


    I am not explaining this to Lord Blackthorn of all people. Not when that would ruin whatever chance I have of getting him to actually listen to me and take me seriously. ¡°I¡­ thought you¡¯d say no?¡± I try.


    ¡°You¡¯re that afraid of rejection, after going to the trouble of arranging this meeting? I doubt it.¡±


    Yeah, I figured lying to Lord Blackthorn while barely able to think coherently wasn¡¯t going to work. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t tell me,¡± he repeats, speaking slowly and precisely. I¡¯ve said the wrong thing, haven¡¯t I? ¡°I need to understand you, Miss Roberts, for the sake of my son. So if you can¡¯t tell me things¡­ then we have a problem.¡±


    ¡°This is nothing to do with Edward. It¡¯s¡­ personal.¡±


    He studies me again for a second. ¡°Afraid that I¡¯d react with suspicion to your arguments, and do whatever monstrous things your imagination has no doubt decided I would?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re a monster,¡± I protest.


    ¡°Oh? Why not?¡±


    ¡°Edward loves you,¡± I reply. ¡°Really. Anyone whose child can love them that much can¡¯t be a complete monster.¡±


    I don¡¯t quite recognise the expression that flashes across his face for a moment. ¡°That is your judgement, then? I appreciate it.¡±


    Is he mocking me? I think he is. I hate it when people do that, but at the same time¡­ yeah. Who am I to say whether he is or isn¡¯t a monster? What right do I have to judge him?


    ¡°So not afraid of what I¡¯d do, then. What, then?¡±


    I don¡¯t answer.


    ¡°Of not being ready?¡±


    That¡¯s closer to the truth. I try not to react.


    ¡°Of failing?¡±


    This time I fail to keep a grimace away from my features.


    ¡°I see. Do you know how many times I have failed?¡±


    ¡°¡­no?¡±


    ¡°More than I can count. It¡¯s a fact of life. What matters is fixing your mistakes and finding another way ¨C or deciding that what you¡¯re trying to do isn¡¯t worth it. There¡¯s nothing you could have said that would have convinced me. I have made my decision.¡±


    ¡°Do you know what that will do to Mildred?¡± I almost flinch, not sure quite what gave me the courage to say that to him. Still, I might as well keep going now. ¡°Because I do. I¡¯ve seen her crying in the bathroom, because her father is going to die. Because of what you did.¡±


    He¡¯s silent for a long moment, and I worry I¡¯ve gone too far. ¡°Your compassion is commendable,¡± he says after a while. ¡°It is a luxury I cannot afford. I¡¯ve delayed you long enough. Your friend must be worried about you.¡±


    I¡¯m shaking in relief and the aftermath of the Malaina episode as I tug the Abbey¡¯s great door open. I hesitate just before stepping through it and look back. I should say something ¨C goodbye? Thank you? How can you live without compassion?


    He speaks before I can. ¡°If you ever hurt my son,¡± he says, and that slow precise speech has returned, ¡°if you ever use him, if you ever break his heart or let him down, I will know. And then I will destroy you.¡±


    I have no doubt that he means every word. ¡°I won¡¯t do any of that,¡± I say. ¡°I promise. Goodbye, Lord Blackthorn.¡±


    And then I step through the door, pull it shut behind me, and lean back against it, trembling.

 26. Tunnel

    I stay there until I¡¯ve stopped shaking, which takes a couple of minutes. My mind is whirling. I don¡¯t know what to think.


    I¡¯ve failed. Have I? Or was there never a prospect of success? Maybe if I hadn¡¯t had that Malaina episode, if I¡¯d been able to make a coherent argument for sparing Lord Cavendish, he might have listened. Or maybe he wouldn¡¯t, because he¡¯d already made his decision and wasn¡¯t going to change it for my sake or Mildred¡¯s.


    I¡¯ll never know now.


    And he thought ¨C I¡¯m still furious at the memory ¨C he thought I was using Edward ¨C I would never ¨C


    I take a long, deep breath and step forward away from the door. Run my hands through my hair to check my braids are intact. Stretch my arms up towards the Abbey¡¯s great ceiling.


    ¡°Right,¡± I say to myself. ¡°Let¡¯s go find Elsie.¡±


    That isn¡¯t too hard to do, fortunately: I just walk over to the chapel where the priest must be, hoping to find the way out, and there she is kneeling beside the priest at the altar. I hang back, not wanting to disturb their prayer. Elsie looks quite different praying: calm and confident, without any of the awkwardness I¡¯m used to seeing from her. It¡¯s strange how easily a person can change.


    The priest must sense my presence, because he rises smoothly and turns to face me. ¡°You must be Tallulah,¡± he says.


    It takes me a second to realise that Elsie must have told him that and that his knowing my name isn¡¯t at all suspicious. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sorry to have kept Elsie waiting ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re all right!¡± says Elsie, getting to her feet. ¡°Thank the stars! Now promise me you¡¯ll never do that again.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ what?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah. That man was clearly dangerous, and you just stayed there with him and didn¡¯t even tell me to fetch help! Who knows what could have happened?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even thought of that, too caught up in what did happen to think about all the horrific possibilities. I imagine Elsie praying at this altar, desperately worried for me, while I panicked at the thought of trying to save a man¡¯s life and listened to the Black Raven recite holy texts.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°But he couldn¡¯t have done anything in front of the High Royal Guard, anyway.¡±


    I¡¯m probably lying, come to think of it. It¡¯s only now I think to wonder why he sent his own magical operatives away but was quite content to have them standing below us and overhearing our conversation. Their loyalty can¡¯t be to him, surely.


    Elsie nods grudgingly. ¡°Still. Don¡¯t do that again, please.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I even did anything. It was all Lord Blackthorn. ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I say. Not if I have a choice, anyway.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you to the way out,¡± says the priest. He¡¯s younger than I expected: maybe twenty or thirty, with slick dark hair. We follow him from the chapel down a set of stairs and back into the crypts. It doesn¡¯t seem much like an exit. I¡¯m still on edge from my encounter earlier, so I can¡¯t help wondering where I could run and hide if I needed to ¨C but there¡¯s no way out of the Abbey except through the protest or whatever way he¡¯s supposed to be taking us ¨C


    The priest stops suddenly by an innocuous-looking section of stone wall, near the Martyr¡¯s Tomb. He hums a tune to himself and traces a hand absently along the wall ¨C and it vanishes to reveal a dark tunnel beyond.


    ¡°Is this ¨C ¡° I begin.


    ¡°The assassins¡¯ tunnel?¡± finishes Elsie.


    The priest gives us a disdainful look. ¡°The tunnel was never theirs, for all that they used it. There has been a network of tunnels below the Central Ring since long before the Usurper, as far back as history goes, scarcely used except in emergency.¡±


    His tone makes it clear that he doesn¡¯t consider our being besieged by the protestors much of an emergency.


    But the actual assassins¡¯ tunnel, the one through which they crept centuries ago to murder Elizabeth the Martyr ¨C I¡¯m not quite sure I want to go in there right now.


    The priest doesn¡¯t care about that, though: he mutters an incantation and conjures a ball of bright white light in his palm, then steps unhesitatingly into the darkness.


    Elsie and I glance at each other.


    ¡°You first,¡± she says.


    ¡°What happened to not doing dangerous things again?¡± I ask playfully, but I take a step towards the entrance. I need a light of my own, but after what just happened I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m in a fit state to cast.


    One way to find out, I suppose. ¡°In the ugly darkness,¡± I whisper, staring into it. The starlight-silver light appears in my hand. I step over the threshold, Elsie behind me conjuring her own light.


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    My light isn¡¯t bright enough to let me see the priest, only the white glow hovering a short distance ahead, waiting impatiently for us. I lower my hand toward the ground so I can see where I¡¯m putting my feet and proceed slowly forward.


    The priest doesn¡¯t speak, just keeps walking quickly and steadily, pausing every so often for us to catch up. Every so often we pass another tunnel leading off in a different direction, and we take two left turns and a right.


    I¡¯m hopelessly lost. How far do these tunnels stretch? We¡¯ve surely walked further than the breadth of the Central Ring now. I turn to see Elsie¡¯s warm red light just behind me and dimly make out her face. ¡°Okay?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Keep walking,¡± she replies tersely.


    I keep walking.


    After what could have been a few minutes or an eternity, the tunnel begins to slope upward, and a faint glimmer of light is visible ahead. So at least the priest isn¡¯t planning to get us lost in the darkness. The end of the tunnel is blocked by an old wooden door, the light slipping through the gaps between the door and the tunnel walls.


    The priest takes a key from the chain around his neck and unlocks the door. It leads to what seems like another crypt: stone walls, dim light, ornate carvings on the pillars that hold up the ceiling.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t leave the chapel unattended for too long,¡± he says. ¡°You can find your way from here.¡± And without another word he disappears back into the tunnel, shutting the door behind him.


    ¡°Would it kill him to be a tiny bit more helpful?¡± I ask bitterly once I¡¯m fairly sure he won¡¯t be able to hear me.


    Elsie doesn¡¯t respond. I turn to see her lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and breathing heavily.


    ¡°Elsie? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m scared of the dark,¡± she admits.


    ¡°And you still made it through that tunnel? I¡¯m sorry ¨C I had no idea ¨C if I¡¯d realised ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What could you have done? We still had to get out ¨C ¡°


    ¡°We could have just stayed into the Abbey until the protest was over ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯d do that because I was afraid?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ of course.¡± I can¡¯t work out why that would mean anything to her. Surely it¡¯s what anyone would do for a friend?


    ¡°My brothers tease me about it. It¡¯s babyish to be afraid of the dark. I should have grown out of it already. They would have made me go through that tunnel, however afraid I was.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t work,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s a point where trying to push through things just makes it worse.¡±


    I meant those words to be about Elsie and her fear, but I realise it¡¯s just as much about me. I tried for years to push through Genford, to always keep studying hard and do everything I needed to become a lawyer. And it just made it worse until eventually I couldn¡¯t keep going any more.


    If I¡¯d realised that before it was too late, perhaps I could have prevented my Fall.


    And then these last few days. I was forcing myself to work through stress and sleep deprivation to research anything remotely connected to the Cavendish case, and it didn¡¯t help anything. It probably made things worse.


    ¡°Try telling that to them,¡± Elsie replies.


    ¡°Do you need to stay here for a while?¡± I ask. ¡°Or ¨C ¡° I look around. There are steep steps leading up out of the crypt, and the door at their top is open. We have a way out, we just need to figure out where we are.


    ¡°Would you mind a couple of minutes? Just so I can catch my breath?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    Elsie sits up and leans back against the wall, and after a moment I join her.


    ¡°Who was that man?¡±


    The tunnel made me forget for a while what just happened, and that I still have no idea what I¡¯m supposed to tell Elsie and what¡¯s a secret. ¡°Edward¡¯s dad,¡± I say, because that at least explains something.


    ¡°You mean ¨C Lord Blackthorn? The Black Raven?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°He followed us to the Abbey to talk to you?¡± There¡¯s a note of fear in her voice. I can¡¯t blame her.


    ¡°No ¨C no, I don¡¯t think so. I think meeting me was just a coincidence. He was there to observe ¨C ¡°


    Stars. What was he really doing there?


    ¡°¡­the protest,¡± I finish grimly.


    Before he revealed itself, we deduced that someone must have been organising the protests in an attempt to destabilise the King¡¯s reign. Stars, I even wondered if Lord Blackthorn was the one who could have done that.


    And he had his team of special operatives, who he sent to investigate an incident by the Central Bank.


    Investigate? Or cause?


    How could I have been so blind? How did I not see this back on the Abbey steps?


    It¡¯s all circumstantial, though. I have no real proof and no hope of obtaining it. It¡¯s logical for the Minister for Intelligence to want to observe the protest to try and work out who¡¯s behind it. But would he go in person just for that?


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C I just had a thought.¡± Do I tell her? Do I tell anyone? What am I supposed to do with this? Stars, why is it me who¡¯s had this revelation instead of anyone who could do something about it? ¡°It¡¯s nothing, though.¡±


    I can deal with it later.


    ¡°What did he want, then?¡±


    ¡°To threaten me with various unspeakable horrors if I mistreat Edward.¡± Technically true, but skipping over most of our conversation.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Elsie asks.


    ¡°Seriously,¡± I confirm. ¡°I guess he¡¯s a bit overprotective.¡±


    Elsie laughs a little, but it¡¯s forced laughter. ¡°What did you tell him?¡±


    ¡°I promised I wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    Elsie is about to reply when we hear footsteps above, and then a woman appears in the doorway.


    ¡°You girls come from the Abbey?¡± she asks.


    It¡¯s hard to make out her features when she¡¯s silhouetted in the door frame, the light coming from behind her, but I can just distinguish the thin dark robes of a priestess.


    ¡°Yes, sister,¡± I say, getting to my feet. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for the intrusion, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t be.¡± She begins slowly descending towards us. ¡°It is our sacred duty to provide sanctuary to those in need of it. I heard about the protest. A dreadful thing, to disrupt the order of the City like that.¡±


    I offer Elsie a hand up; she takes it and hauls herself to her feet.


    ¡°Sister,¡± I ask, ¡°could you tell us where we are?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know? Who ¨C no, don¡¯t tell me. Claude?¡±


    ¡°The priest from the Abbey chapel, you mean? Twenty or thirty, dark hair?¡±


    ¡°Claude,¡± she confirms. ¡°I apologise for him. He disdains all duties except that of prayer. You are in the Temple of the Ship. Come upstairs.¡± She turns gracefully in place on the steps.


    I glance at Elsie to confirm that she doesn¡¯t know where the Temple of the Ship is any more than I do, and then follow the priestess upwards.


    The Temple of the Ship isn¡¯t named after a physical ship, but after the constellation that depicts one, one of the five constellations for the five Holy Days. All major temples are named after constellations, but the City has dozens of them so it doesn¡¯t really narrow things down.


    We emerge into a large chapel. There are a few people here praying, and we get a few curious glances from those not lost in contemplation. I try to ignore them.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯m new to the City, and I don¡¯t know where ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s quite all right. I¡¯ll show you a map.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t take long after that to discover that we¡¯re on a side street near Queen¡¯s Park ¨C under which the tunnel must have passed ¨C and figure out how to get to the market to buy a gift for Mildred.

 27. Hyperspace

    We buy her a silver bracelet with a bird charm. It¡¯s a pretty enough thing, though probably not worth the Lord¡¯s Silver we paid for it. I let Elsie give it to her, making some excuse about it being her idea and her knowing Mildred better than I do. But really, I can¡¯t face being thanked for the bracelet and knowing I¡¯ve failed at what really matters.


    It takes me a while to track Edward down: he¡¯s not in any of the study rooms, or the library, and even asking his dorm-mates gets me nothing except a few teasing remarks about me missing my boyfriend, which I try to ignore.


    I resort to just trying every room in turn until after nearly half an hour I finally find him in our Magical Law and Culture classroom. It¡¯s close to the top floor and has a window looking out over the drive leading to the Central Ring. That must be why he¡¯s there, staring out at something.


    ¡°Edward?¡± I say.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± he replies, not looking around. ¡°You made it out of the Abbey all right, then?¡±


    Of course he knows about the protest. He must be watching it unfold now.


    ¡°Yes ¨C the priest took us through the assassins¡¯ tunnels. What¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°It seems to be dying out,¡± he replies. ¡°As far as I can tell from here, it doesn¡¯t have a real leader. There¡¯s been no official acknowledgement, so sooner or later people will get bored and cold and hungry and just go back to their lives.¡±


    ¡°It didn¡¯t turn into a riot?¡± I ask, feeling a surge of relief.


    ¡°No ¨C no. The King can¡¯t afford to have a riot right under his balcony. People must have been moving very carefully to avoid provoking one.¡±


    ¡°Oh, thank the stars, he didn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    My brain catches up with my mouth a second too late. It¡¯s probably not a good idea to tell Edward that I suspected his father of causing a riot to make the King look weak.


    ¡°Who didn¡¯t?¡± Edward inevitably asks.


    ¡°Your dad,¡± I admit. ¡°He was there. On the Abbey steps.¡±


    That¡¯s enough for him to whirl around and face me. ¡°He ¨C you met him ¨C what ¨C ¡° He takes a breath and then says ¡°Tell me everything.¡±


    I do: accusations of being bribed by Mildred, Malaina episode, failure, everything. He takes it all in without saying a word. ¡°And then just as I was leaving, he said ¨C if I ever hurt you, or used you, or ¨C ¡°


    I did it again. One day I¡¯ll become a little less awful at keeping secrets.


    Well. I guess we may as well have this conversation now, then. ¡°¡­or broke your heart,¡° I finish.


    He takes a step backward, looking as terrified as I feel. ¡°Tallulah, do you¡­ do you feel that way about me?¡±


    I was really hoping to know how he felt about me first. Because I don¡¯t, but I also really don¡¯t want to hurt him with a rejection. And given my lack of romantic experience I don¡¯t have the first idea how I¡¯m supposed to explain that.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression ¨C I never intended ¨C ¡°


    He¡¯s laughing. He¡¯s actually laughing at me. ¡°Sorry,¡± he says, controlling himself. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ ever since that woman at the museum thought we were dating, I¡¯ve been worried about whether you wanted to be and how I was going to tell you I wasn¡¯t interested and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And all that time I¡¯ve been worrying about the exact same thing!¡± That is pretty funny, I have to admit. Look at us stupid teenagers unable to have an honest conversation about our feelings and determine that those feelings didn¡¯t in fact exist.


    ¡°Not that ¨C not that you¡¯re not pretty or smart or whatever qualities you¡¯re supposed to look for in a girlfriend. You¡¯re just¡­ really not my type.¡±


    I have to ask. ¡°What exactly is your type?¡±


    He glances around as if to check no-one is hearing, although there¡¯s clearly no-one but the two of us here. ¡°Boys.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, and then ¡°Sorry. That came out wrong.¡±


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t¡­ change anything, does it?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! If anything it makes stuff less awkward.¡±


    ¡°I knew there was a reason I liked you,¡± says Edward, grinning. ¡°You¡¯re the first person I¡¯ve told.¡±


    ¡°Not your dad?¡± I ask, but I¡¯m genuinely touched that he trusts me enough to tell me before anyone else.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think he¡¯d care,¡± says Edward. ¡°He¡¯d just say okay, now how¡¯s your casting coming along?¡±


    That does fit surprisingly well with what I know of him. I laugh.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± says Edward. ¡°Tell me about these tunnels.¡±


    I decide to go with the abrupt change of subject. ¡°There¡¯s a network under the centre of the City. I know they connect the Abbey with the Temple of the Ship, and the Academy is part of it as well ¨C or it was a few hundred years ago when the assassins used them, anyway. The priest said they¡¯d been there as far back as history goes.¡±


    ¡°That sounds about right. How deep did you go?¡±


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    I shrug. ¡°Not that much deeper than the Abbey¡¯s crypt. I don¡¯t remember sloping down that much. But the Temple of the Ship is on a slight hill so we still had to come up quite a way.¡±


    ¡°Find any treasure?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C what? Was I supposed to have?¡±


    He laughs. ¡°There¡¯ve always been rumours about treasure in the tunnels. It¡¯s the plot of half a dozen copper-tales. Someone would have found it by now if there was. The Royal Magicians have a complete map of the tunnels.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just ask your dad about them, if you¡¯re that curious?¡±


    ¡°I tried asking him for years to take me down there, back when I thought it would be a grand adventure and I might find the non-existent treasure. He always said I was too young and to ask again next year. Eventually I stopped asking.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised at how sad that story feels. It¡¯s perfectly sensible to not want to take a young child down utterly dark tunnels, even if you¡¯re Lord Blackthorn and thus more than capable of protecting him from whatever lurks down there.


    ¡°But really. No monsters, no treasure. Not even a single coin?¡±


    ¡°I was only in one of the tunnels, and that¡¯s probably one of the most used.¡± I don¡¯t want to destroy his dreams of treasure and monsters, even if he knows as well as I do that they¡¯ll never become reality.


    I write to my dad that evening. It¡¯s the second letter I¡¯ve sent him, the first being filled with talk of lessons and magic and all the little details about life at the Academy. I wrote that before the Harvest Ball and everything it led to.


    It¡¯s much harder to write this time. Stars, I haven¡¯t even told him I¡¯m friends with Edward Blackthorn. How am I supposed to explain the events of the last week? Can I even explain them, given how much is secret?


    I hadn¡¯t realised the implications of keeping Edward¡¯s secrets until now, realising there¡¯s a part of my life my dad will be forever shut off from. How does that change things, exactly? asks a quiet, uncharitable voice in the back of my mind.


    It hurts, knowing that there¡¯s a void between us and that I might never be able to fill it. But we love each other, and that¡¯s what counts. Right?


    I¡¯m settling in well, I write. I¡¯ve made friends with a few of my classmates ¨C there¡¯s a nice girl called Elsie who likes history as well, and we went to the Abbey Royal earlier to-


    Wait. No. I don¡¯t want my dad knowing I visited the Abbey on the day of the protest. That¡¯s not a secret, it¡¯s just¡­ I don¡¯t want to give him any more reasons to worry about him than the obvious Malaina-related ones.


    It takes me five drafts to manage to sound happy and positive and not give away anyone¡¯s secrets, and even then I¡¯m wondering if he¡¯ll think it¡¯s odd that I¡¯m not talking about the Cavendish case given he must know Mildred is also studying here.


    But it¡¯s this or not write to him at all. I fold the letter neatly in half and head to the post room.


    I go to the library the next day to return the various books I borrowed for my research project, since I don¡¯t need them any more. Rosie is on duty again. ¡°Hi, Edward¡¯s friend!¡± she says cheerfully.


    I glare at her.


    ¡°I¡¯m just messing with you, Tallulah, I remember your name.¡±


    Very funny. ¡°Can I return these, please?¡± I set the stack of books down on the desk just before my arms give out.


    ¡°Certainly! I¡¯ll have them processed shortly. Are you planning to go in while you¡¯re here?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t been, but now she mentions it I¡¯m in just the mood to lose myself in the history section and escape the stress of yesterday. ¡°Yes, please. Thank you.¡±


    She makes a note in her ledger, and I step through the door into hyperspace.


    I avoid thinking about it without any conscious effort now. It seems almost normal to be walking on nothingness, and any lingering unease is offset by the fact this is a library and there are new books to explore.


    It doesn¡¯t take me long to find my way to the history section and begin paging eagerly through a biography of Maria the Seafarer. I¡¯m not overly a fan of the writing style, it¡¯s a little too informal for a history book, but the story it tells is an interesting one.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    I snap the book shut, startled. No ground means no sound of footsteps, so it¡¯s absurdly easy to sneak up on someone in hyperspace. Wait ¨C that¡¯s Mildred¡¯s voice ¨C stars, I don¡¯t know how to ¨C


    I turn to face her; she¡¯s crouched down beside me. ¡°Hi, Mildred. How are you?¡± I hate myself for asking such a stupid question at a time like this.


    ¡°As well as can be expected, considering. What are you reading?¡±


    I hold the book up to show her.


    ¡°Maria the Seafarer,¡± Mildred muses. ¡°Interesting. Have you made any progress in ¨C ¡° she glances around once, briefly, though I¡¯m sure we¡¯re the only two people in the library. It¡¯s Sunday, after all. ¡°Speaking to Lord Blackthorn?¡± she finishes.


    My heart skips a beat. I can¡¯t lie to her, and I haven¡¯t had time to choose a story, but would telling her the truth be betraying the Blackthorns? She deserves to know. It¡¯s her father I failed. ¡°I ¨C I spoke to him. Briefly. He ¨C ¡°


    My breath catches. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. Didn¡¯t Lord Blackthorn give me a new way of coping? Charles First-King, I recite to myself. Edwin the Just. ¡°He refused, before even hearing my arguments. I¡¯m sorry. There¡¯s nothing else I can do.¡±


    I¡¯m not good enough to help you, Mildred. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there?¡± Mildred asks, tilting her head to one side curiously.


    Timothy the Peacemaker.


    I can feel my surroundings fade away, feel as if I¡¯m not quite in my body any more. ¡°What ¨C what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Edward values your friendship, doesn¡¯t he? Tell him that he won¡¯t have it unless he intervenes with his father.¡±


    It¡¯s as if she punched me in the face. Because I want to help her, I want to save her father. I really do.


    But I can¡¯t do that to Edward. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I choke out, even though I can barely hear my words over the sound of my own heartbeat. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Mildred replies icily. ¡°Goodbye, Tallulah.¡± She rises smoothly and walks away without another word.


    I watch her go, numbly, not quite myself. Maria the Seafarer. I look back at my book, open it, but the words blur before my eyes. I must be crying.


    This is bad, I realise distantly: the worst Malaina episode I¡¯ve had since the first. I have to stop before it¡¯s too late. I have to breathe. I have to stay myself. I have to go after Mildred, tell her I¡¯m sorry, that I tried, I really did, I did everything I could and it wasn¡¯t enough and ¨C


    I stumble to my feet and run blindly towards the door. Mildred is just stepping through it as I catch up, and she turns to look at me and very deliberately pulls it shut. Its click sounds so final.


    Okay. She doesn¡¯t want to talk to me. I¡¯ll give it a minute and then leave and find somewhere quiet to wait for the episode to pass. I¡¯m going to be okay.


    Richard Blackbeard.


    No. That¡¯s no good. I need to get out, I need to go after her ¨C


    That¡¯s Malaina speaking, not me, she¡¯s dealing with a lot right now and didn¡¯t mean to lash out, I shouldn¡¯t take it personally ¨C


    My fingers find the doorknob involuntarily, my hand twists it without quite meaning to.


    It doesn¡¯t open.


    I try again. It still doesn¡¯t open.


    Mildred locked the door.


    She locked me in hyperspace.


    I don¡¯t know how long I¡¯ve been in here. Is it too long? Am I in danger?


    I can¡¯t remember Richard Blackbeard¡¯s successor.


    I pound my fists against the door, barely feeling the pain.


    I¡¯ve forgotten how to breathe.


    I know that list of kings like the back of my hand, so why has it deserted me now?


    I¡¯m standing at the edge of the precipice, staring down at the ground far below and wondering why I don¡¯t lean forward, just a little further¡­


    Why fight it? I¡¯m not strong enough, I¡¯m not good enough.


    I can¡¯t stop this.


    Accepting it feels strangely peaceful: nothing I do matters, so it¡¯s a relief to stop trying.


    I fall.


    The door flies off its hinges and halfway across the room.

 28. Interlude: Wine

    Isabelle¡¯s prediction was accurate: one evening two weeks after Beth arrived, Captain Morel arrived for a surprise inspection of their living quarters, which included detailed scrutiny of the bottle of fine wine lurking in the depths of a cupboard.


    Jack had disappeared to his own quarters, as he always did when anyone other than Isabelle and Beth was around, so it was left to the two of them to entertain their guest.


    Beth sat awkwardly in one of the armchairs, trying to work out the best way to hold her wine glass. Isabelle and the captain had the stems of theirs pinched between thumb and forefinger, but she was sure she¡¯d spill the wine if she tried the same.


    ¡°So, Miss Quint,¡± said the captain. ¡°How are you settling in?¡± He took a sip from his glass.


    ¡°Very well, thank you,¡± Beth replied. ¡°Isabelle is keeping me busy.¡± It was true: the last two weeks had been a whirlwind of new ingredients, new brewing techniques, experimenting and testing and memorising. She barely had any room left in her mind to learn more. It was brilliant.


    Isabelle laughed politely. ¡°There¡¯s a lot to learn before she¡¯ll be able to help me with my research, and you know what the Administration Department will think of unnecessary delays.¡±


    Was Beth imagining it, or did the captain flinch at that? She certainly did. She hadn¡¯t said a word about Mrs Marling¡¯s little revelation. How were you supposed to say oh, by the way, are you going to kill Jack? No, best to pretend she¡¯d never heard it and focus on learning her trade.


    But she didn¡¯t want Jack to die.


    She raised the glass to her lips to hide her discomfort, and immediately remembered why she hadn¡¯t done that before now. She¡¯d never drunk alcohol before. Partly it was because she¡¯d never been to the sort of parties where alcohol was drunk, and partly she was scared of what she¡¯d say and do under its influence: her father was never pleasant to be around after he¡¯d been drinking.


    One glass of wine was hardly enough to get properly drunk on, but what if she didn¡¯t like it? What if she spat it out and embarrassed herself and Isabelle? What if they realised that she wasn¡¯t the sophisticated young apprentice sharing a drink with her master but just a little girl where she didn¡¯t belong?


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ most glad to hear you say that,¡± Morel said in a tone that wasn¡¯t at all glad. ¡°This wine is delightful, by the way. Wherever did you get it?¡±


    ¡°An alchemist can always obtain the right ingredients,¡± Isabelle replied with a smile, ¡°for the right prices.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m flattered that you consider my acquaintance worth the price.¡±


    Beth tilted the glass back and let a few drops run into her mouth. It was sweet; she hadn¡¯t expected that. Actually it was rather nice. She liked it.


    ¡°The wine is worth its own price,¡± Isabelle laughed. ¡°But all wine tastes better in good company.¡±


    ¡°Quite right.¡±


    The captain finished his glass before Isabelle did, and certainly before Beth; nice though it was, she was determined not to have a second. Isabelle poured him another. ¡°Wine never keeps well once it¡¯s been uncorked.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you need it finished so badly, I suppose I could help you out a little¡­¡±


    ¡°I knew I could count on you!¡±


    They continued exchanging small talk for a while, and Beth faded into the background as she did best. She didn¡¯t know what to do in a conversation like this, so she just sat and sipped her wine and occasionally replied to questions as briefly as she could.


    ¡°So,¡± said Isabelle as she finished pouring her second glass and Morel¡¯s fourth. There was only a little left in the bottle now. ¡°There¡¯s this project I¡¯ve been working on. I really think it could be something big.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure it will be,¡± Morel replied, speech a little slurred.


    ¡°I¡¯m flattered. The thing is, though, it¡¯s not really my specialist area, and I could use some external sources to help me make sure I¡¯m on the right track. Perhaps you could help me obtain a copy of ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You know the rules, Isabelle. You can¡¯t have the Proceedings of the ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t want the Proceedings. I want the Journal of Advances in the Research of Spellcraft.¡±


    ¡°Oh! A cross-disciplinary project?¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    ¡°Well, really, you¡¯re better off going through the official channels ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Normally that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯d do. But I¡¯m not even sure this is going to work. And the Administration Department would want a full research proposal and promises of results, which isn¡¯t something I could guarantee at this stage. So I thought if I could just make a little more progress first and make sure I¡¯m really onto something¡­¡±


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    She stopped and glanced at the captain expectantly.


    ¡°Well, all things considered, that seems a reasonable request. I¡¯m sure I could arrange something as a favour to a friend.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be most grateful. If there¡¯s anything I can do for you in return, just say the word. And¡­¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t let word get back if you won¡¯t,¡± said Isabelle.


    ¡°Why would I feel the need to report anything? Nothing of note has happened.¡±


    They shared a laugh and drained their glasses.


    ¡°Another?¡± asked Isabelle.


    ¡°There¡¯s only one glass left in there, and I¡¯d hate to deprive you ladies. Besides, I ought to be getting back before I¡¯m missed.¡± He set his glass down and rose to his feet.


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure?¡± Isabelle asked, mirroring him.


    ¡°Quite sure, much as I regret not being able to enjoy your company for longer. Thank you both for your kind hospitality.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± said Beth, feeling she ought to say something. Morel ignored her and followed Isabelle out of the room, the two laughing to each other as they went.


    Beth sat alone with her dark thoughts and the last sip of her wine. If she wasn¡¯t imagining things, the entire point of this evening had been for Isabelle to get a copy of the Journal without using the official channels, as Morel had put it. And what was this project of hers? Beth didn¡¯t know anything about it, but if Isabelle had a new project that involved magic it stood to reason she¡¯d be taking advantage of having a magician for an apprentice.


    Isabelle returned a minute or two later, still smiling. ¡°Do you want the last glass?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I ¨C no, thank you. Not that it wasn¡¯t nice or anything,¡± she added hastily, ¡°I just don¡¯t like to drink too much.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s sensible,¡± Isabelle agreed. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll go and see if Jack is thirsty.¡±


    He was, apparently: he emerged from hiding a minute or two later and took the glass Isabelle offered him, grinning.


    ¡°How can you be so nice to him when you¡¯re going to kill him?¡± said Beth.


    There was a long moment of silence.


    She hadn¡¯t meant to say that out loud.


    ¡°Whatever gave you that impression?¡± asked Isabelle finally.


    Beth squirmed under her gaze. ¡°Well, I mean¡­ you¡¯re ¨C we¡¯re ¨C researching alchemical weapons, aren¡¯t you? And you¡¯ll need to test them, and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Who told you that?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C Mrs Marling. From the Administration Department. But ¨C how ¨C ¡°


    Isabelle looked at Jack. He shrugged. She closed her eyes for a few seconds and then said calmly and firmly ¡°Beth. I am not going to kill Jack. I am not going to test alchemical weapons on him.¡±


    ¡°So¡­ Mrs Marling was lying?¡±


    ¡°She told the truth as she knew it.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C oh! You¡¯re lying to her ¨C to the Administration Department ¨C telling them you¡¯re going to when you¡¯re not!¡±


    Isabelle nodded.


    Of course. Of course Isabelle wasn¡¯t a murderer. Of course she wasn¡¯t going to kill Jack. How could she have thought such a thing? ¡°But¡­ won¡¯t you get in trouble for not doing it?¡±


    Isabelle shrugged. ¡°Only if they find out. And that won¡¯t be for months yet. I have a thousand excuses and reasons why I haven¡¯t reached the human testing stage of my research yet. Alchemical research is an immensely time-consuming and complex process. I need the best equipment and ingredients money can buy.¡±


    ¡°You can only do that for so long, though. What happens when time runs out?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need to stall forever,¡± Isabelle replied. ¡°Only until I¡¯m ready to attempt my own plan.¡±


    The pieces clicked into place. ¡°Your project,¡± said Beth.


    ¡°My project,¡± Isabelle agreed.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    Isabelle hesitated.


    ¡°You need my help for it, don¡¯t you? Because I¡¯m a magician?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes.¡±


    ¡°Then you have to tell me what it is.¡±


    ¡°Can I trust you?¡± asked Isabelle, tilting her head to one side.


    ¡°Of course! What, do you think I¡¯d turn you in?¡±


    ¡°Not right now, no. But the Administration Department can be very persuasive. There¡¯s a lot they can offer you in exchange for what they want.¡± She paused. ¡°There¡¯s a lot they can do to make your life difficult if you don¡¯t give it to them.¡±


    Beth got the feeling she was speaking from experience. ¡°You can trust me. Nothing is worth getting Jack killed.¡±


    Isabelle nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a way out.¡±


    ¡°A¡­ way out?¡±


    ¡°Yes. A way to escape from here, for Jack and me. And for you, if you¡¯ll join us.¡±


    Beth blinked a few times. Escape. Jack was clearly in danger here, and the longer he stayed the more that was true. He needed to escape. But Isabelle? And her? What was she escaping from? What would it mean to escape from here?


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to decide now,¡± said Isabelle. ¡°It¡¯ll be months. If it works at all. But yes, I will need your help.¡±


    ¡°Then you can have it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. I left a cauldron simmering in the lab. I should check it. Enjoy the wine, Jack.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Isabelle.¡±


    She left, a spring in her step as she walked.


    Beth turned to Jack. He held the wineglass almost as awkwardly as she had.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t talk to me,¡± he said.


    ¡°No,¡± said Beth. ¡°I thought ¨C ¡° It sounded silly now. He¡¯d hate her. He¡¯d think she was a fool.


    ¡°What did you think?¡±


    ¡°I thought you already knew. Both of you. I thought I was just being na?ve, not seeing what was obvious.¡±


    ¡°No-one would willingly sign up for a job knowing it would get them killed.¡±


    ¡°I know that. I know that now. I just didn¡¯t think ¨C I don¡¯t know ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Talk to me next time,¡± said Jack. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°I promise.¡±


    Jack lifted his wineglass and took a hesitant sip. He smiled.


    ¡°Your first time as well?¡± Beth asked.


    ¡°Wine? Yes. My family could never have afforded something like this.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nice,¡± said Beth. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Jack agreed, taking another sip. ¡°I¡¯m curious,¡± he said. ¡°If what Mrs Marling said was true, what would you have done?¡±


    Before that moment, Beth hadn¡¯t known. She might have been able to convince herself that it was just part of the job, that the weapons had to be tested somehow. In that moment, standing there and looking at him, she knew that was fundamentally wrong. She knew she couldn¡¯t have stood by and let it happen.


    ¡°I would have tried to save you. I don¡¯t know if it would have done any good. But I would have tried.¡±


    He took another sip of wine. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear that,¡± he said, taking a step closer to her. ¡°I like your dress, by the way.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s Isabelle¡¯s,¡± Beth admitted, blushing a little. Her own dresses were all neat and plain, nothing Isabelle had deemed acceptable for the meeting with the captain. The skirts on this one were hardly immodest, but they were still far shorter than what she was used to.


    ¡°Well, then, I like Isabelle¡¯s dress. It suits you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± She felt like she should compliment him back, but he wore the same plain clothes he wore every day. There was nothing special about them to remark on.


    Jack sipped his wine again and then set the glass down on the table. Slowly, he slid it along towards her.


    ¡°I¡¯ve already had some,¡± said Beth. ¡°You finish it.¡±


    He shook his head. ¡°A gift,¡± he said. ¡°For you.¡±


    Beth could feel her heart beating a little faster than normal. Moving slowly, so as not to break the enchanted moment, she reached out and took the glass. ¡°Here¡¯s to you,¡± she said, lifting it.


    ¡°To us. To Isabelle. To escape.¡±


    She drank.

 29. Night

    It¡¯s dark when I wake up. It takes me a long time to realise that I¡¯m awake. Sleep feels so warm and comforting, and the thought of anything else is distant and hard to reach. Has learning magic really been this tiring?


    In some faraway corner of my mind I¡¯m aware that that¡¯s not it, that something is badly wrong. But why worry about it when I can just stay here, warm and safe and content?


    I can¡¯t, though. I lie there for a while without drifting back to sleep. I remember this feeling: it¡¯s the same as that first morning when my life changed forever, when I first woke after Falling.


    The words active episode fall into my mind. That¡¯s a bad thing, I think. What happened?


    The memory comes back with only a second¡¯s thought: Mildred, the library, hyperspace, the door not opening. The last thing I remember is the hinges shattering and the door flying across the room.


    A very bad thing.


    What happened next? What ¨C stars, what did I do? I need to find out.


    It¡¯s utterly dark, though, and I don¡¯t know where I am. And the thought of groping around blindly until I find light or a way to somewhere there¡¯s light doesn¡¯t appeal. I¡¯ll have to wait.


    No, I won¡¯t. I¡¯m being stupid. I¡¯m a magician.


    I push back the bedcovers ¨C I¡¯m in a bed, at least ¨C and cup my hands together. ¡°In the ugly darkness,¡± I whisper. The silver light comes to me. I was scared that it wouldn¡¯t, that I¡¯d exhausted too much magic in the episode.


    But I have light now. Not bright, but enough to see by. I move my hands in a slow arc so I can see each part of the room in turn.


    It¡¯s not a room I recognise, just a small bare bedroom. There¡¯s the bed I¡¯m in, a small table beside it, a chair, a clock on the wall telling me that it¡¯s four and five ¨C after midnight, I presume, given the darkness. There¡¯s curtains hanging from the wall on the left which presumably hide a window, and a door opposite and another to the right on the wall behind me.


    That¡¯s all I can make out without getting out of bed. I pull my hands apart so that the light is only held in one palm and I can use the other to throw back the bedsheets. I flinch as my bare feet hit the floor: it¡¯s cold stone without even a rug.


    Once I¡¯ve adjusted to the icy feeling, I stand. My legs take my weight; my body is still working. I pad over to the curtains first, since they¡¯re closest. They open easily when I tug them, to reveal a window as expected.


    It¡¯s night, and the stars hang low in the sky. I can just make out the shapes of trees and lawns arranged in a familiar pattern: the Academy¡¯s gardens. So I¡¯m still there, at least.


    I try the door opposite the bed. It¡¯s locked. I tell myself it¡¯s because they don¡¯t want anyone wandering into the room where I¡¯m sleeping in the middle of the night. But really I¡¯m scared that it¡¯s to keep me in.


    The other door leads to a bathroom, as I discover when its enchanted light appears as I open the door, nearly blinding me. I extinguish the light in my hand and step inside.


    It¡¯s an ordinary bathroom, plainer than the one in my dormitory, but it at least has a mirror.


    I don¡¯t know what I was expecting from my reflection. Some visible sign of what happened and how it¡¯s changed me? There¡¯s nothing, just red-rimmed eyes and messy hair. My braids must have come undone at some point.


    I set about fixing them, since I have nothing else to do and I doubt I¡¯ll be able to sleep again now. It¡¯s good to have something to do with my hands: the slow methodical work helps me not to think.


    Lucy the Fair. She was Richard Blackbeard¡¯s successor; he¡¯d had no children, so she was his little sister. Her reign was a peaceful time, and she isn¡¯t remembered as much as kings who ruled during war or fought bloody battles for the throne. What little I know indicates that she was a good king, though, and that the prosperity of the kingdom during her reign wasn¡¯t merely a coincidence.


    It seems so obvious now, but when I needed her I couldn¡¯t find her. It probably wouldn¡¯t have helped.


    I¡¯ll never let myself forget her again. Or any of them.


    ¡°Charles First-King,¡± I say to my reflection. ¡°Edwin the Just.¡±


    I keep going until I¡¯ve recited the entire list, finishing with the traditional ¡°King Robert of no name, may history judge him well¡±: kings are never granted official bynames until they¡¯re dead. I don¡¯t know what his will be; he¡¯s not a particularly remarkable king, harsh though that sounds.


    By that time my hair is braided, so I step out of the bathroom and resummon the silver light. I consider sleeping, realise it¡¯s still not going to happen and stare out of the window, watching the stars and wondering if they¡¯re watching me.


    I find myself wanting to pray. I haven¡¯t prayed of my own accord outside temple services for years, but if I¡¯ve ever needed the blessing of the stars, it¡¯s now. I kneel before the window as though it were an altar and close my eyes.


    ¡°Stars,¡± I begin, ¡°that have always watched over us and always will watch over us. Stars that light and guide our path through the darkness. Stars that¡­¡± I can¡¯t remember the third line of the invocation. Does that matter? I¡¯ve never quite known if it¡¯s the intent behind a prayer that matters or the form and ritual of it.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    ¡°Stars that hear me now,¡± I continue, hoping it¡¯s the former. ¡°I ask that you hear my prayer and that you lend me your help and your fortune now that I need you.¡± That¡¯s definitely not the right words. No matter. It¡¯s not as if I have a prayerbook to consult.


    ¡°Please,¡± I say, ¡°please let me not have hurt anyone. Please let me not have destroyed anything. I never wanted to hurt anyone or destroy anything, not really. Please ¨C please ¨C don¡¯t let this change things. Don¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    It¡¯s no good. Putting my fears into words, even to beg the stars to not let them become reality, makes them too real. ¡°Don¡¯t ¨C well. You are eternal, all-seeing, all-knowing, so you know what I¡¯m afraid of. Don¡¯t let it happen. Please.¡±


    I stare out at the stars. They give no sign that they¡¯ve heard me. I don¡¯t know what I was expecting. I stand and drag the chair over to the windowsill, then sit in it and stare out at the stars again.


    I don¡¯t sleep, but I must fall into a sort of trance. I see the stars begin to fade as the sky turns a pale dawn-grey and the first glimmers of light appear on the horizon. I see the sun rise. It¡¯s beautiful. The light is almost painful; I was used to the darkness, felt almost at home in it. It¡¯s as if now that there¡¯s light to see by, I can¡¯t hide any more.


    I press my hands together to extinguish my light and pace around the room. There¡¯s a jug of water on the bedside table; I pour myself a glass and drink it slowly. There¡¯s no food; I¡¯m hungry. It was morning when I was in the library, so I¡¯ve missed two meals. At least two meals, that is; I¡¯m not quite sure what day it is.


    I hope it¡¯s only Monday. I don¡¯t want to miss lessons. I glance up at the clock: six after midnight. Three hours until my first class. Hopefully someone will come before then. Hopefully someone will come.


    I try the door again. It¡¯s still locked. I wish I knew an unlocking-spell, and then wonder if I¡¯d use it if I did. Not yet. It¡¯s barely morning. Someone will come soon.


    I use the bathroom. I consider washing, but I don¡¯t have clean clothes. I¡¯m still wearing the dress I had on that morning. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. The clock ticks by with excruciating slowness.


    I recite the list of kings again, three times. I pace around the room again. It doesn¡¯t take long. I walk in tight circles between the bed and the door, counting my steps. I look out of the window to see if there¡¯s anyone awake and outside; there isn¡¯t.


    Time passes, somehow, though I feel as if I¡¯m trapped in a moment and the clock will never reach a time when someone might come.


    It¡¯s a few minutes after seven when the door handle turns. I stop pacing and sit on the edge of the bed, hands folded in my lap.


    The door opens. It¡¯s Electra. I probably don¡¯t keep the disappointment at the fact it''s her of all people off my face well enough. It makes sense for it to be her, though: she is an expert on Malaina, apparently. I should have realised.


    She¡¯s fully dressed despite the early hour; she holds a tray in her hands and a large object hovers above the floor behind her. ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says, crossing the room to set the tray down on the table. The object floats through the door without her turning to look. It¡¯s my trunk. ¡°You¡¯re awake.¡±


    I say nothing.


    Electra waves a hand; my trunk settles itself just in front of me, and the door swings shut. ¡°I suppose you have questions,¡± she says, leaning back against the wall.


    ¡°What happened?¡± I ask simply.


    ¡°At about eleven after midnight yesterday, Miss Cavendish knocked frantically on my door and told a story that you were chasing her under the influence of a Malaina episode. You appeared less than a minute later and proved that story correct, so I stopped you before you could do any damage.¡±


    ¡°No-one was hurt?¡± I ask, hardly believing it.


    ¡°No. It appears that the library door was destroyed, but thankfully Miss Blackthorn understands hyperspace well enough that she was able to prevent a stability breakdown.¡±


    Oh, stars, that hadn¡¯t even occurred to me. I vaguely remember the door flying off its hinges, and I suppose that no door between reality and hyperspace could lead to all sorts of bad things. I owe Rosie an apology at the very least.


    ¡°Do I ¨C do I need to pay to replace it?¡± I ask, feeling a faint dread at the thought. My pocket money won¡¯t cover a door, especially with all the enchantments it doubtless needs to serve as a boundary between hyperspace and ordinary space. I¡¯ll have to ask my parents. So I destroyed a door because I had a magical breakdown and now I need money. That conversation will not end well.


    Electra shakes her head. ¡°The Academy has a policy of not holding its Malaina students liable for damages to its property during active episodes. And I have a few questions for you. Such as: why did I not hear anything about increased episode frequency until the incident occurred?¡±


    Oh, stars. She did say that I was meant to report all episodes to her, didn¡¯t she? And I must have had half a dozen passive episodes I never mentioned a word of to her. Even if I¡¯d remembered, I couldn¡¯t have told her, because that would involve giving away secrets.


    Never mind that, how am I going to explain it now? ¡°I¡­¡± I have a flash of inspiration. It has a high chance of getting me detention, but I have no better ideas. ¡°With respect, you¡¯re not exactly the most approachable of teachers.¡±


    She laughs a little. ¡°That is true, I suppose, but it does not excuse your negligence.¡±


    ¡°I told Edward,¡± I protest.


    ¡°Edward,¡± she repeats. ¡°Edward, who is sixteen years old, Malaina and a Blackthorn. Whatever his virtues, he does not have the qualifications or experience to help you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not about qualifications or experience,¡± I say without thinking.


    ¡°What is it about, then?¡± asks Electra, one of those awful smiles of hers playing across her lips.


    ¡°It¡¯s about understanding. We understand each other.¡±


    Electra sighs. ¡°Teenagers,¡± she drawls. ¡°I¡¯ll never know why you¡¯re like this. I suppose the consequences of your actions are punishment enough for you, and I hope you will learn from them.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I say hastily. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure to tell you whenever I have an episode in future.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re just telling me what I want to hear.¡±


    Indeed I am. It was worth a try. ¡°No, really.¡±


    She raises a sceptical eyebrow but makes no further comment on that. ¡°Speaking of the consequences of your actions,¡± she says, ¡°you ought to know that Miss Cavendish has filed a report under the Malaina Stability Law.¡±


    I should know what that means. It seems stupid of me not to have researched the law as it applies to Malaina in great detail. ¡°¡­and that means?¡±


    ¡°It means that she believes you to be a danger to others.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°There will be a court hearing in two weeks¡¯ time to determine whether that is in fact the case. Until that hearing takes place you will be kept in isolation, with visitors only under the supervision of a suitably qualified person.¡±


    Stars. No. I have to think. I have to know what¡¯s happening. ¡°Suitably qualified person meaning you?¡±


    ¡°I am the only such person on the Academy¡¯s staff at present.¡±


    ¡°And¡­¡± I don¡¯t want to say this, but I have to. ¡°What if¡­ if this hearing¡­¡±


    ¡°Finds that you are dangerous?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°It will not, for the simple reason that you are not.¡±


    If it were anyone other than Electra saying that, I would be immensely relieved. But it¡¯s her, and so I¡¯m not. ¡°But if it did,¡± I press. I need to know.


    ¡°Then the court will have the right to enact whatever measures it deems necessary for the safety of the population.¡±

 30. Interlude: Business

    ¡°Stars, Simon, you know I don¡¯t have a head for numbers. Just give me the facts.¡±


    ¡°Our current business model is unsustainable.¡±


    That was the impression Ben got from what he could understand of Simon¡¯s numbers, but he¡¯d still been hoping it wouldn¡¯t be the case.


    ¡°Assuming no major changes in our finances, we have six months before the money starts running out.¡±


    Ben let himself slump forward and rested his head in his hands. ¡°We can cut back on expenses, can¡¯t we? I could take a cut to my salary, now I don¡¯t have to deal with school fees any more ¨C ¡° he felt a stab of guilt as he remembered yet again exactly why he wouldn¡¯t be having to pay even partial fees to his daughter¡¯s school.


    ¡°Ben. You don¡¯t get it. Is half your salary going to cover rent on the office?¡±


    It wasn¡¯t. ¡°But still ¨C we could negotiate cheaper supply contracts, we¡¯re reliable customers ¨C ¡°


    Simon shook his head sharply and began to pace around the table. He often paced; Ben thought it was a way of working off excess energy. He wished he had excess energy sometimes. ¡°You¡¯re thinking too small. Maybe we can cut costs and keep afloat, but that can only work so many times, and we¡¯ll have nothing for emergencies. We need to fundamentally change how Roberts and Bryant operates.¡±


    Ben was grateful that someone in this partnership understood business and numbers and how to run an organisation. He knew law, and he knew justice, but he¡¯d never know business the way Simon did. He could feel a headache coming on. ¡°We¡¯re a law firm,¡± he said. ¡°We give legal advice and represent our clients in court. That¡¯s what we are, fundamentally, and I don¡¯t see how we¡¯re supposed to change that.¡±


    ¡°There are a lot of law firms, and a lot of ways of practicing law. I know you don¡¯t want any more numbers, but ¨C ¡°


    Ben was not going to groan. This was an important conversation, and he was going to pay attention and understand it. He repeated that several times to himself.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you the short version. We need to make more money, which means we either need to take more clients or charge more for our services.¡±


    ¡°And we can¡¯t take more clients,¡± Ben said, ¡°not without bringing in a third partner.¡± He and Simon both worked long hours, and recent events had made him realise that he¡¯d spent too much time working and not enough paying attention to his family. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you know anyone who¡¯d be interested?¡±


    Simon laughed bitterly. ¡°Anyone good enough for us is good enough for a big City firm that can afford to pay them far more.¡±


    ¡°Figures. So raising our prices.¡± He hated the idea. ¡°You know most of our clients wouldn¡¯t be able to afford higher prices?¡±


    ¡°Then we find new clients who can.¡±


    Ben felt sick at the mere thought of it. ¡°A lot of our clients have been loyal to us for years. They trust us and come to us with every legal problem they have. It would be a betrayal of that trust to discard them because they can¡¯t pay enough.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it also be a betrayal of their trust to go out of business because we can¡¯t earn enough?¡±


    It would. But that didn¡¯t mean Simon¡¯s answer was the right one. ¡°I¡¯m doing this for them,¡± he said. ¡°Not for money. Because we¡¯re making a real difference to them. That¡¯s why Roberts and Bryant exists, and if we¡¯re not doing that any more¡­¡±


    Neither of them spoke for a while, the conclusion of Ben¡¯s sentence hanging in the air between them: ¡­then we might as well not exist any more.


    The silence was broken by a knock at the office door.


    ¡°We¡¯re in a meeting!¡± Simon shouted.


    Both their schedules were clear for the entire morning, and the secretary and receptionist knew not to disturb them unless for something urgent. Which likely meant that this was urgent.


    Ben did not want to deal with a crisis right now.


    ¡°Sorry to interrupt,¡± replied the voice of the receptionist, Jamie, from the other side of the door. ¡°But there¡¯s a woman here to see you about your daughter, Mr Roberts.¡±


    No.


    He¡¯d been half-expecting something like this for the last two weeks. Tallulah had sounded fine in her letter, but he hadn¡¯t noticed anything wrong when living in the same house as her for months. So how could he be expected to tell from her letters?


    He stood, crossed the room and opened the door without thinking about it.


    The woman was the same one that had met them in the hospital. Electra. Not the sort of woman he¡¯d have entrusted his daughter to if he¡¯d had a choice. Jamie stood beside her, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else.


    ¡°Miss James,¡± Ben said, slipping unconsciously into his courtroom persona. ¡°Thank you for coming.¡±


    ¡°Do you have somewhere we can talk in private?¡±


    Of course they did; they were lawyers. Ben glanced back at Simon.


    ¡°Take this office,¡± Simon said. ¡°And take as long as you like. I¡¯ll cover your appointments for this afternoon if necessary.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Ben replied, though the words weren¡¯t enough to express his gratitude for how Simon was making sure he had the space to deal with this.


    Electra stepped into the office and stared around the room, taking it in, while Simon and Jamie left. Ben shut the door behind them.


    Just another interview with a client. That¡¯s all this was.


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Yesterday morning, your daughter was in the library when one of her classmates, Mildred Cavendish, also entered the library.¡±


    ¡°Clarification,¡± he said. ¡°When you say Mildred Cavendish, are you referring to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Mildred, daughter of Lord Cavendish, currently on trial for high treason? Yes.¡±


    There was no-one else she could have meant, but he needed these things explicitly stated. It was more to give himself a few more seconds to process what Electra was saying than because of his lawyer¡¯s precision.


    ¡°Miss Cavendish exited the library a minute or two later, in some distress. And a minute or so after that your daughter¡­ the door flew halfway across the room and she left, clearly under the influence of an active Malaina episode.¡±


    He felt his heart sink further. It was if he was losing another fragment of his daughter, and there were only so many left.


    ¡°Miss Cavendish came immediately to my office, claiming that your daughter had been in this active episode when she left and that she was scared she would be followed and attacked. Your daughter did indeed follow her, and I believe she would have attacked had I not prevented it.¡±


    Tallulah would never do that. That was what he wanted so much to be able to say. But she was Malaina now. Malaina changed people. Had it already changed his daughter into someone who¡¯d attack another girl?


    ¡°She¡¯s safe?¡± he asked.


    Electra nodded. ¡°She¡¯s currently recovering from the aftermath of the episode in an isolated room. Miss Cavendish has filed a report against her under the Malaina Stability Law. You¡¯re familiar with the consequences of that?¡±


    Ben was. He¡¯d researched Malaina law thoroughly over the last two weeks. It was the only way he knew to understand what had happened to his daughter, and it had not been pleasant reading. He nodded.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°It should also be noted,¡± Electra continued remorselessly, ¡°that your daughter¡¯s account of events contradicts Miss Cavendish¡¯s in several key details. She claims that Miss Cavendish deliberately provoked her into an active episode.¡±


    That possibility hadn¡¯t even occurred to him. He took a few seconds to think. Why would Cavendish have done that? Because she wanted Tallulah to be judged as unstable and suffer the consequences. Why would she want that? He had no answer.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Electra replied. ¡°I suspect your daughter does, but she was reluctant to tell me. But you can ask her yourself, if you like. And a friend of hers has asked to meet you. I think it¡¯s likely he knows something.¡±


    ¡°Ask her myself¡­¡± he repeated numbly. ¡°I can visit her?¡±


    ¡°Yes. I can take you at once. Is this building warded against teleportation?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes ¨C it has the standard warding pattern ¨C but ¨C can you give me a few minutes? To pack a bag. And¡­¡± he hesitated. ¡°Can you tell me something? Honestly?¡±


    ¡°I can try.¡±


    ¡°Do you think Tallulah is telling the truth?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    No hesitation. He was sure Electra was a very capable liar, though. ¡°Do you think she¡¯s unstable?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    It was something. Some hope to cling to.


    Once he¡¯d packed, they reached Tallulah¡¯s room in under fifteen minutes. It would have been five if he hadn¡¯t vomited on a patch of street outside the gates of the City of Ryk after teleporting. The second time, after entering the City, was slightly less awful, perhaps because he was expecting it.


    He stumbled and fell into a black armchair in a room painted the same colour, lit with a blinding enchanted light. It was about what he would have expected of Electra¡¯s office if he¡¯d ever given thought to it.


    ¡°Shall we go?¡± Electra said, not giving him a moment to catch his breath.


    The Royal Academy of Magical Arts was in a magnificent palace, and he wished he¡¯d come at a better time so he could take in his surroundings. But they passed exquisite paintings, climbed an elegant marble staircase and were nearly run over by a small horde of students without stopping.


    And then they were there.


    His heart was pounding. He didn¡¯t know how to deal with this. He had to be strong for Tallulah.


    Electra opened the door and stepped smoothly in to lean against a wall. ¡°Shut the door behind you,¡± she said.


    He stepped through and obeyed her.


    Tallulah was kneeling in front of a small table which she¡¯d turned into a makeshift desk, writing something. She looked up as he entered.


    ¡°Hi, Tallulah,¡± he said. ¡°Are you okay?¡± Stupid question. Of course she wasn¡¯t. But he didn¡¯t know what else to say.


    She set her quill down and stood up. ¡°Considering the circumstances. Hi, Dad. I¡¯ve missed you.¡±


    Had she? They walked towards each other and hugged awkwardly, then stepped back.


    ¡°What are you working on?¡±


    ¡°Lessons,¡± she said. ¡°I¡¯m trying to keep up with all my classes while I¡¯m here so I¡¯m not behind when I can go back to them. Electra is bringing me work and supervising my practical sessions, which is very kind of her.¡±


    He glanced at Electra, who didn¡¯t acknowledge that or give any sign that she was paying attention to their conversation.


    When she could go back to them.


    That would only happen if the hearing found she wasn¡¯t dangerous.


    ¡°Electra says you think Mildred Cavendish provoked you into the Malaina episode.¡±


    ¡°I know she did. I didn¡¯t at the time, but looking at it now it¡¯s the only thing that makes sense.¡±


    ¡°Could you tell me how?¡±


    ¡°She said some things that were playing on my guilt about¡­ things¡­ and then ¨C do you know what hyperspace is?¡±


    ¡°The stuff the Portal Network is made with?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. The library is in hyperspace. Bad things happen if you stay in hyperspace too long.¡±


    Then why in stars¡¯ names would anyone put a library there?


    ¡°She locked me in. Cast a spell of some sort on the door.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ sure?¡±


    Tallulah nodded. ¡°The bad things wouldn¡¯t have happened. The library has safety procedures. I would have got out before too long. But I wasn¡¯t exactly thinking rationally at that point, so¡­ it tipped me over the edge.¡±


    ¡°What I don¡¯t understand,¡± Ben said, ¡°is why she would do that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know for sure,¡± Tallulah replied, ¡°but I have a fairly good theory.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to tell me, are you?¡±


    She shook her head slowly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I would if I could. But I¡­ Electra, could you leave the room for a minute?¡±


    ¡°Regulations state I can¡¯t leave you alone with a visitor.¡±


    So it wasn¡¯t Ben she didn¡¯t trust, it was Electra. That helped, a little.


    ¡°This friend of yours,¡± he said. ¡°He knows ¨C ¡°


    ¡°As much as I do. But I don¡¯t know what he¡¯ll tell you.¡± She hesitates a little. ¡°You can trust him. I do.¡±


    Ben wasn¡¯t quite sure what to make of that.


    ¡°What have you told my mother?¡± asked Tallulah.


    ¡°Nothing. I came here as soon as I heard.¡±


    And that conversation was one he was dreading. He really didn¡¯t want to hear Louise¡¯s views on why this had happened.


    ¡°Could you¡­ could you not tell her?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s your mother, Tallulah. She has a right to know.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­ just wait these two weeks? Then I¡¯ll be proven stable, and there¡¯s nothing to tell her.¡±


    She sounded like she believed it, at least. ¡°All right,¡± he said. ¡°Two weeks.¡±


    They talked for a while about inconsequential things before Electra announced that she had a class to teach and she couldn¡¯t afford to spend her entire day supervising Tallulah¡¯s conversations with visitors.


    ¡°Bye, Dad,¡± said Tallulah. ¡°I¡¯ll see you for Holy Days.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± agreed Ben, wishing with all his heart he believed her. ¡°Until Holy Days.¡±


    Tallulah¡¯s friend wasn¡¯t in class at this time, apparently. Electra told Ben to meet him in a meeting room, sixth floor, south corridor.


    ¡°Students can reserve meeting rooms?¡±


    ¡°Some students,¡± Electra said, a faint edge to her tone. ¡°I have homework to grade, if you¡¯ll excuse me. Knock on my office door when you want to be teleported back.¡±


    So he was getting the quick way back to work. He couldn¡¯t work out whether to be relieved he wouldn¡¯t have to pay the Portal toll or horrified at the thought of the dreadful emptiness of teleportation. ¡°Thank you,¡± he said. ¡°For everything you¡¯ve done for Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m always glad to be appreciated,¡± said Electra, and set off down the stairs to her office without another word.


    Ben climbed up to the sixth floor feeling faintly apprehensive. Who exactly was this friend of Tallulah¡¯s? She wasn¡¯t the sort to be friends with someone who¡¯d summon him to a meeting room like this. And what had Electra meant by some students? He should have asked her.


    The room was precisely where Electra said it was, and it was locked. He knocked before he had time to doubt himself.


    The door opened within seconds to reveal a small dark-haired boy of about Tallulah¡¯s age, dressed in formal magician¡¯s robes. ¡°Mr Roberts?¡± he asked, accent unmistakeably that of the City¡¯s elite.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Ben, still disoriented. ¡°You¡¯re Tallulah¡¯s friend?¡±


    ¡°I am. Edward Blackthorn. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.¡± He held out his hand.


    Ben shook it numbly. His daughter was friends with a Blackthorn. Stars. ¡°To confirm,¡± he said, ¡°when you say Blackthorn¡­¡±


    ¡°I do mean the Blackthorns. Lord Blackthorn is my father.¡±


    Oh. He remembered seeing something in the newspapers. The boy was Malaina, wasn¡¯t he, and it was quite possibly his father¡¯s fault. Ben pitied him, but someone like that was the last person he wanted his daughter to be friends with.


    ¡°You wanted to talk to me about¡­¡±


    ¡°What happened to Tallulah yesterday,¡± Edward finished. ¡°Yes. Come in.¡±


    Ben ignored the instincts telling him that being alone in a locked room with a Malaina Blackthorn was a terrible idea. He was doing this for Tallulah. He had to help her. He stepped inside.


    The room was quite large, and mostly empty: an elegantly-carved wooden table ringed with chairs was the only furnishing besides a portrait of some old king. Edward sat down in front of a small pile of papers and books and gestured to the seat next to him.


    Ben sat.


    ¡°I want to apologise,¡± said Edward. ¡°It¡¯s my fault Tallulah is in this situation.¡±


    That didn¡¯t altogether surprise him. ¡°Explain, then.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re aware of the Cavendish case, I suppose?¡±


    Ben nodded. That was related, then? It was hardly a surprise when Mildred Cavendish featured prominently in both.


    ¡°Mildred Cavendish is one of our classmates. Tallulah found her crying in a bathroom and wanted to help her. The only way to do that would be to prevent her father from being sentenced to death, so she decided to try and persuade my father to influence the King to spare him.¡±


    Oh, stars. What had Tallulah done? What had this boy dragged her into?


    ¡°She decided?¡± he asked pointedly.


    ¡°I suggested it,¡± Edward admitted. ¡°But I would never have done it if I didn¡¯t think it was what she wanted. There was never a chance of it succeeding, but she felt she had to do something. I thought if she tried and failed it would help her feel less guilty about it.¡±


    ¡°But it didn¡¯t work out that way,¡± Ben said.


    Edward shook his head. ¡°She worked herself halfway into a Malaina episode. I didn¡¯t realise ¨C if I¡¯d known ¨C I talked to her, and I thought I¡¯d pulled her out of it. She met with my father, and he refused her, and that was that.¡±


    His daughter had met Lord Blackthorn. His daughter had tried to persuade Lord Blackthorn to spare a traitor. Oh, stars. And the way Edward talked about this as if it was perfectly normal ¨C though to him maybe it was ¨C


    ¡°And then she encountered Mildred in the library. From what she told me, Mildred tried to make her feel guilty about not having done enough, about having failed. And she succeeded, because Tallulah is the sort of person to think everything is her fault and that if she were just a bit better she could have changed things. And then¡­ if you¡¯ve spoken to Tallulah, you know the rest.¡±


    Ben did. It was just like Tallulah to involve herself in something she really shouldn¡¯t out of an innocent desire to help someone. Just like Tallulah to not realise that there were some problems she shouldn¡¯t try to fix.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why Mildred Cavendish would do that, though. It hardly helps her.¡±


    Edward shook his head sharply. ¡°I care about Tallulah. And my father cares about me. Mildred holds Tallulah¡¯s fate in her hands, and that gives her leverage.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s using Tallulah to blackmail Lord Blackthorn?¡±


    Edward nodded. ¡°There¡¯s a chance Tallulah will be found innocent even with Mildred doing her best to ensure otherwise. It¡¯s not as bad as it seems.¡±


    Ben knew when someone was telling him reassuring lies. ¡°How much of a chance?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to know. It¡¯s her first major episode, and she¡¯s clearly not a danger to anyone. But the courts are prejudiced against Malaina. And telling the truth will make her look like she¡¯s weaving a conspiracy to deny responsibility for her own actions.¡±


    Yes, he didn¡¯t much fancy making that argument in court.


    ¡°And will¡­ what will your father do?¡±


    Edward¡¯s silence told Ben all he needed to know. Lord Blackthorn had done a thousand horrific things; letting an innocent girl be labelled as dangerous for the sake of seeing justice served on a traitor would be the least of them.


    ¡°I¡¯m not letting her be found unstable,¡± Edward said firmly, an intensity in his voice. ¡°You have my word, Mr Roberts, that I will do whatever it takes to save Tallulah.¡±


    Ben did not find that reassuring at all.

 31. Visitors

    I focus on lessons for a while after my dad leaves, because it¡¯s better than focusing on anything else. I still have Alchemy homework to finish; it¡¯s a rather tedious exercise requiring a lot of referencing textbooks, but it keeps my mind occupied.


    It stops me from having to process what¡¯s happening or seriously contemplate what could happen. I¡¯m going to be okay. I¡¯m going to be fine.


    Electra doesn¡¯t return until lunchtime, but she brings food, and she¡¯s not alone. I¡¯m surprised to see Elizabeth with her, also carrying a food tray.


    There¡¯s only one chair, but I drag the table to a position where I can sit on the bed and eat while Elizabeth sits on the chair opposite. Electra, as is her habit, leans against the wall and watches us.


    ¡°Hi,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you for coming. I didn¡¯t think ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I had to come,¡± Elizabeth replies simply, cutting into her roast beef. ¡°I know what it¡¯s like.¡±


    I say nothing, I just methodically slice my own beef.


    ¡°My Fall,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯ll spare you the details, but it was¡­ more violent than most. Violent enough people said I could be mala sia. I had to go through much the same process as you are now.¡±


    Yeah. I guess she does know what it¡¯s like. More than I do, most likely: I¡¯ve never seriously hurt anyone in an episode, though that might only be because Electra stopped me.


    ¡°And look at me,¡± she says, setting down her fork to gesture at herself. ¡°I¡¯m still here. Still standing. This isn¡¯t the end, Tallulah. I know it might feel like it, but you can absolutely live through this.¡±


    She¡¯s trying to help, and in a way she is helping. But in another way this isn¡¯t really about me now. It¡¯s about Mildred¡¯s father and about Lord Blackthorn. I think that¡¯s the worst part: knowing that my fate isn¡¯t my own any more. It depends on whether Lord Blackthorn is willing to go against what he believes is best for my sake. On whether Mildred is willing to let me be sent to an asylum knowing I don¡¯t deserve it.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. ¡°What have you heard about ¨C ¡°


    ¡°A lot of rumours,¡± says Elizabeth. ¡°Not particularly flattering to you.¡±


    ¡°What do they say?¡±


    Elizabeth sighs. ¡°The usual things they say about Malaina. You were always a little strange, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, you would have seriously hurt someone if Electra hadn¡¯t stopped you.¡±


    The worst part is that none of that is wrong. I am dangerous. I would have hurt Mildred if Electra hadn¡¯t stopped me. Yes, Mildred provoked me, but it¡¯s still not okay for me to lose control and lash out whenever I¡¯m provoked.


    Even if I get through this, who¡¯s to say it won¡¯t happen again?


    I am. I¡¯m not going to let it happen again. No-one is going to get hurt because of me.


    Resisting Malaina episodes through force of will doesn¡¯t work, though: even if Electra hadn¡¯t said that back on my first day here, I¡¯d know that it¡¯s just impossible to summon sufficient willpower when the world doesn¡¯t quite feel real.


    So I need to find another way. I can work out exactly what causes my episodes and avoid those things or thought processes. Simple, right?


    <hr>


    Elizabeth leaves as soon as she¡¯s finished eating, after some awkward small talk, but she¡¯s not my only visitor. A few minutes later, just as I¡¯m considering going back to homework, Electra lets Elsie in.


    ¡°Hi, Elsie,¡± I say with half-hearted fake enthusiasm.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says, her voice as raw as I feel. Her eyes are red-rimmed, I notice: she¡¯s been crying. ¡°You¡¯re okay?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Considering. You?¡±


    She shrugs back and ducks her head to avoid meeting my eyes. ¡°I didn¡¯t think¡­¡± she says, ¡°didn¡¯t realise¡­ I should have.¡±


    ¡°Should have realised¡­¡± I ask, already knowing the answer.


    ¡°What was going to happen. I could see how tough you were finding the whole Mildred thing, and I knew you were Malaina, and I never put it together.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Elsie, you know it wasn¡¯t inevitable, right?¡±


    She stares blankly at me.


    ¡°Just because I¡¯m Malaina and I¡¯m finding things difficult, that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to have an episode.¡±


    Maybe it does right now. But it shouldn¡¯t. And one day it won¡¯t.


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    ¡°I told Mildred she was making a mistake,¡± says Elsie in a rush. ¡°That you¡¯re not dangerous, and she shouldn¡¯t try to¡­ well.¡±


    Of course: Elsie is friends with both me and Mildred, and she doesn¡¯t want us to be enemies. She wants me to be sane and stable and Mildred to not be prepared to pretend otherwise for her father¡¯s sake.


    Which can¡¯t be true.


    I want to tell her the truth, but Edward advised when he visited me before classes that we shouldn¡¯t spread that story too widely if we want to come to an arrangement with Mildred. She won¡¯t want to make that deal if we¡¯re ruining her reputation.


    Like a lot of things Edward says, it makes perfect sense while at the same time going against all my instincts. And besides: would Elsie believe me if I told her? I¡¯m too scared to find out.


    ¡°What did Mildred say?¡± I ask.


    ¡°She ¨C ¡° Elsie¡¯s lip wobbles. I hope selfishly that she won¡¯t cry in front of me, because I¡¯m not in a fit state to comfort anyone right now. ¡°She said ¨C she didn¡¯t want anyone else getting hurt. She was scared that it would happen again.¡±


    ¡°It won¡¯t,¡± I say, willing myself to believe it. ¡°I promise you it won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Swear it by starlight,¡± says Elsie, biting her lip to hold back tears.


    I nod. It takes me a moment to recall the usual phrasing of an oath by starlight. ¡°I swear by sacred starlight, by the light that guides me at night, by all that is holy, that I will never again let anyone be hurt because of my Malaina episodes.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    There are many stories of what happens to someone who breaks an oath by starlight. It is said that the stars will never shine for them, that they will walk forever under starless skies. It is said they are cursed and will suffer ill-fortune. It is said that they will die alone and in pain.


    I¡¯m not going to break this oath. What would happen if I did is worse than any curse.


    I have to learn to never let myself fall again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell Mildred,¡± Elsie says. ¡°That you swore by starlight, that you won¡¯t hurt anyone. You¡¯re not dangerous.¡±


    She really believes that, I realise. I gave her a sacred oath, so it must be true.


    If only things were that simple.


    Electra hovers by the door after escorting Elsie out, watching me. She could help me. She knows Malaina. But¡­ it¡¯s Electra.


    I don¡¯t care. I need her help. ¡°How do I stop this from happening again?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no cure for Malaina.¡±


    ¡°I know that, but¡­ surely there are ways of managing it?¡±


    ¡°The most effective way to manage Malaina is to identify and resolve its root causes. If you no longer have the problems that led to your Fall, if your life is happy and fulfilling, you will rarely experience episodes.¡±


    ¡°But surely ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re looking for a shortcut, aren¡¯t you? Some spell that can bring you back from an episode or prevent you from having one? There is none. If you¡¯re serious about what you promised ¨C and I hope very much that you are ¨C you will have to learn, the hard way.¡±


    I didn¡¯t really think there would be a nice shortcut. It was worth asking, though. If she were anyone else I¡¯d ask if she could teach me, but I don¡¯t think being taught how to manage Malaina by a woman who attacked me with a knife is likely to end well.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ll do, then,¡± I say, hoping I sound suitably determined.


    ¡°I wish you the best of luck,¡± says Electra, and she leaves, locking the door behind her.


    I¡¯m alone.


    It¡¯s strange: I like being alone, studying or curling up with a book or just being. I¡¯m perfectly content in my own company.


    But something about being trapped in this room, being alone not out of choice but because I¡¯m dangerous, makes me desperately long for someone to talk to. I¡¯d give almost anything to have Edward here talking about his latest magical project, or complaining about teachers, or just sitting and being together.


    Instead I sit down at my desk, pick up my quill and draw a sheet of parchment towards me.


    What causes me to have Malaina episodes?


    I discount being locked in hyperspace; that can be dealt with by simply avoiding hyperspace ¨C much though I¡¯ll miss the library if it comes to that. It¡¯s not the real problem, besides; if I¡¯d been myself when it happened I would have realised that I was never going to be trapped for long enough to be dangerous.


    Guilt, I write down instead, about not doing enough to save Mildred¡¯s father. About letting Mildred down. About failing.


    Did I fail, though, or did I just take on a task I could never succeed at?


    Is there a difference?


    I took a philosophy elective at Genford for a while. This feels like one of the questions they¡¯d always ask then. What is the nature of evil? What does it mean to be alive? And now: what does it mean to fail? I quit the philosophy class after a term, because every lesson seemed to devolve into an argument between the ardently religious and the more sceptical (the word heresy was used more than once). The only thing I learnt was that no two people can ever agree on the answers to these questions, and maybe the questions don¡¯t even have answers.


    Still, I need to find my own answers now.


    My research project wasn¡¯t like a tricky question on a test, where you know there is an answer even if you can¡¯t find it. I¡¯m not convinced there was ever a way to solve that problem. Lord Blackthorn even said so himself: there¡¯s nothing you could have said that would have convinced me.


    I don¡¯t know that, though. Maybe ¨C just maybe there was something I could have done ¨C


    But realistically? No. There was nothing I could have done. Who am I, anyway? A fifteen-year-old girl, nothing special. Not someone who could persuade the Black Raven of anything. Not someone who should be friends with his son ¨C


    No, Edward¡¯s voice screams in my mind, as clearly as if he were here beside me, listening to my despair. Never tell yourself you¡¯re not worthy of being my friend. I say you are, and that¡¯s what matters.


    I find myself smiling a little.


    That¡¯s something, at least. One thing to cling to. Edward Blackthorn is my friend. I¡¯m good enough for him. Maybe that¡¯s the kind of truth that can help me ward off episodes when they come again.


    I write that down in a separate column.


    What else? There was the episode I had on the Abbey steps, because ¨C because I wasn¡¯t prepared. I hadn¡¯t touched my notes in a day. If I had been ready ¨C but I couldn¡¯t have expected when I left the Academy that I¡¯d encounter Lord Blackthorn that day. I couldn¡¯t have been prepared for that.


    I should have been ready anyway ¨C if I¡¯d worked that day instead of promising Edward I wouldn¡¯t ¨C no. That¡¯s wrong. The work itself was pushing me towards a Malaina episode. I lost sleep because of it, nearly skipped meals, and doing that isn¡¯t healthy. Just being tired and hungry and not quite fully functioning seems to have made things worse.


    That¡¯s something I can do, then. Take proper care of myself. I already know Edward will nag me if I don¡¯t, I just have to listen to him more.


    Even if there¡¯s no magical shortcut, I can still make things better. I will still make things better.

 32. Four and Twenty

    I keep working on this new project for a while longer, but I¡¯m not going to be able to implement any of my ideas while I¡¯m trapped here. There¡¯s only so many ways I can change my routine for the better when my routine has been stripped away.


    I finish my homework quicker than I otherwise would, though, since there are no distractions. And now my trunk has been delivered I can read, so I lose myself in the troubles and triumphs of the Border Wars for the rest of the afternoon.


    Edward comes at dinner time. He only has half an hour, Electra instructs him, and that only because he¡¯s fetching food for me and returning my dishes to the kitchen afterwards.


    ¡°Is there any news?¡±


    ¡°None. I told my dad everything as soon as I left you, but I haven¡¯t heard anything from him.¡±


    ¡°What did you tell my dad?¡±


    ¡°Also everything. I don¡¯t think he likes me, though.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t sure whether Edward would trust my dad enough to tell him everything. I¡¯m pleasantly surprised that he did ¨C I felt so awful keeping secrets from him, but I¡¯d feel even more awful betraying Edward¡¯s trust. ¡°Why not?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m a Blackthorn, and it¡¯s my fault you¡¯re here ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not!¡±


    ¡°If we weren¡¯t friends none of this would have happened!¡±


    He¡¯s right. But also he¡¯s wrong. ¡°I chose this, Edward. I chose you, knowing who you are and what it meant.¡±


    I never would have expected that promise of friendship to lead me here of all places. But if I had the chance to choose again, knowing what I know now? There are a lot of things I¡¯d change, but that¡¯s not one of them.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°But you shouldn¡¯t blame yourself either.¡±


    I give him a sceptical look.


    ¡°The only person to blame for this is the one who thought she could use you as a game piece to get what she wanted. It was Mildred¡¯s choice that did this, and if you blame yourself you¡¯re taking that away.¡±


    That¡¯s not a perspective I¡¯d considered. I repeat it to myself, wondering if I believe it. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°I think that helps.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. If there¡¯s anything else I can do ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I could use some new books¡­¡±


    Edward agrees to keep me supplied with history books ¨C I make him a list of all the ones I can remember from the library that I wanted to read, and we negotiate that he¡¯ll bring me three each week, that being the best balance we can find between stopping me getting bored and letting Edward borrow all the magic books he wants as well.


    Once he¡¯s gone, I work through the theoretical parts of the day¡¯s lessons, which Electra brought with the meal. I¡¯ve arranged with Electra that I¡¯ll do the practical parts with her supervision on mornings before classes start, and at weekends if that isn¡¯t enough time.


    By the time that¡¯s done it¡¯s nine after noon, and I¡¯m tired enough I decide to go straight to sleep. I half expect to be kept awake by dark thoughts, but I¡¯m asleep almost as soon as I curl up under the covers.


    Blindingly bright light, too strong to be the morning sun. I open my eyes a little, just enough to see that the light is a palm-sized ball hovering at the end of my bed ¨C no, not hovering, resting in someone¡¯s hand. The rest of the room is dark, so it¡¯s hard to make out who¡¯s sitting in my chair with the summoned light. I drag myself up to lean on the headboard and squint.


    Lord Blackthorn.


    Stars.


    ¡°Miss Roberts,¡± he says, seeing I¡¯m awake. I wish I wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C ¡° I squint up at the clock; the light spreads just far enough for me to make out its hands. ¡°Four and twenty after midnight.¡±


    ¡°So it is.¡±


    ¡°¡­why couldn¡¯t you call at a more sociable hour?¡±


    ¡°If I kept to sociable hours, I would be significantly less efficient and effective. Besides, I¡¯d rather it wasn¡¯t known I was here.¡±


    I don¡¯t think that was meant as a threat, but it still has my heart beating a little faster. I almost ask how he got in without alerting anyone before remembering that he¡¯s both one of the most talented magicians in the country and Minister for Intelligence ¨C there¡¯s probably not a locked room in the City he couldn¡¯t enter if he wanted to.


    So here I am, trapped alone with the Black Raven at four and twenty after midnight. If you¡¯d told me that would happen a few weeks ago I would have been utterly terrified. I still am ¨C but not for the same reasons.


    ¡°Tell me what happened in the library on Sunday,¡± he says.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t you already heard from Edward?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s best to hear these things first-hand. Tell me.¡±


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    He speaks as if it¡¯s impossible that I could refuse him. I don¡¯t; I sketch out my story yet again.


    Lord Blackthorn listens intently, sometimes interrupting to clarify something: were those Mildred¡¯s exact words? Did I get an impression of what she was feeling? Am I sure she locked the door?


    His questioning is thorough enough that I realise just how fragile my memories are, how many details I missed and how much I lost because I was trapped in my own head fighting the Malaina episode.


    ¡°Were there any witnesses?¡± he asks finally.


    ¡°Other than Mildred? Rosie ¨C your niece ¨C was on duty in the library. She¡¯ll have seen¡­ well, the aftermath.¡±


    He nods sharply. ¡°Can she corroborate ¨C ¡° He stops and jumps smoothly to his feet, pivoting to face the door, even though I haven¡¯t heard anything but the usual noises of a large building at night.


    There are a couple of moments of tense silence, and then the door swings open to reveal Electra, wrapped in a black dressing-gown. She waves a hand and the room¡¯s enchanted light switches on.


    I blink a few times, wondering how it¡¯s possible that I¡¯m thankful for the appearance of Electra. She wears an expression of contained, icy fury which frightens me more than anything else I¡¯ve seen from her. ¡°Lord Blackthorn,¡± she says, her words dripping danger, ¡°please explain what you are doing invading my student¡¯s bedroom at such an unreasonable hour.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t look remotely intimidated. I guess he wouldn¡¯t; he¡¯s a bigger monster than she is, after all. ¡°I don¡¯t see why I should justify myself to you.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Perhaps you would rather justify yourself to the Board of Governors when I report you for entering the Academy without permission and breaching Malaina confinement? They can¡¯t be too fond of you after all the special treatment you requested for your son.¡±


    I can practically feel the tension in the air. Maybe if I stay very still, they¡¯ll forget I¡¯m here.


    ¡°I am going to finish my conversation with Miss Roberts,¡± Lord Blackthorn replies, a sharp edge to his voice, ¡°and then I am going to leave. There will be no disruption to anyone¡¯s business except yours since you insist on interfering, and no report will be made to the Governors.¡±


    ¡°And I am going to remain here for the duration of your conversation, and when it is complete you and I are going to have a¡­ conversation¡­ of our own.¡±


    They stare at each other for a long moment, until finally Lord Blackthorn nods. ¡°Then come in and be silent. As I was saying, Miss Roberts, can my niece corroborate your statement that Miss Cavendish locked the library door?¡±


    It takes me a few seconds just to collect my scattered thoughts after what I¡¯ve just heard. I know there must be a dozen layers I didn¡¯t see to that interaction, and Electra makes that conversation sound like the type where only one participant leaves it alive. Though maybe that¡¯s just Electra¡¯s usual style.


    ¡°I¡­ maybe? I don¡¯t know any locking spells, so I¡¯m not sure how subtly they could be cast. But I¡¯d expect Mildred to be subtle about it if she didn¡¯t want to get caught.¡±


    ¡°I suppose we should assume a basic level of competence,¡± says Lord Blackthorn. ¡°Other witnesses?¡±


    ¡°Well, Electra, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That will have to be something we discuss in our¡­ conversation.¡± He mimics Electra¡¯s suggestive pause near-perfectly, but it doesn¡¯t sound quite as ominous when he says it. ¡°Is that all?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember encountering anyone else,¡± I say. ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t remember what happened during the episode at all. So I can¡¯t help you there.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Is there anything else you want to tell me?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, and then gather my courage: ¡°but there are things I want to ask you.¡±


    ¡°Ask, then.¡±


    That¡¯s hardly encouraging, but it¡¯s better than the outright refusal I expected. ¡°We ¨C Edward and I ¨C have a theory about Mildred¡¯s motivations. Do you know it?¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Do you agree with it?¡±


    ¡°I have yet to receive evidence for it, but in the balance of probabilities¡­ I believe I do.¡±


    He means that Mildred hasn¡¯t actually contacted him to offer the deal she wants yet. At least, I think he does. But he¡¯s expecting her to.


    ¡°And¡­ if you do receive that evidence¡­¡± I hesitate. He¡¯s watching me expectantly, and while Electra tries to look as if we bore her, I know she too is waiting to hear what I say next. I¡¯m scared to say it. I¡¯m scared of the answer. ¡°What will you do?¡±


    Silence. In a way that¡¯s all the answer I need, but it gives me the reassurance that at least he isn¡¯t just telling me what I want to hear.


    ¡°Cavendish committed treason,¡± he says, ¡°and the sentence for treason is death. To spare him for your sake would go against the principles of justice.¡±


    Yes, some cold and analytical part of my mind notes. If I heard of a traitor being spared in exchange for the freedom of a dangerous Malaina girl in the newspapers, I¡¯d be appalled.


    But I can¡¯t be cold and analytical, because this is me. My future he¡¯s holding in his hands, my future that could be gone forever for the sake of the principles of justice. I want to beg him to change his mind, but I can¡¯t even find the words.


    ¡°And yet my son cares deeply about you, and ¨C believe it or not ¨C I care deeply about him. I know what losing you would do to him. What it would do to his trust in me.¡±


    Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is a monster. I¡¯m only saving you because otherwise my son would hate me, I don¡¯t care about you at all. I thought I understood him a little after the Abbey steps, but I never did.


    I could never understand how someone can be that cold and calculating with the stakes as they are.


    ¡°And yet,¡± he continues remorselessly, ¡°I am the Black Raven. The Lord of Shadows. The monster that haunts the darkness, that finds and punishes those who act against the throne.¡± He shrugs, such a human gesture contrasting with his words. ¡°A monster cannot be bargained with. A monster cannot be blackmailed.¡±


    It takes me a second to grasp what he means, but I¡¯ve read enough history books filled with speeches of metaphor and implication to realise he¡¯s talking about reputation. Nobles like the Cavendishes and any others who might be plotting treason believe he is the monster he describes, who will remorselessly hunt them. If they realise that he can be blackmailed into sparing them, then they¡¯ll attempt to do the same.


    It might be Edward they target next, and that is the one thing Lord Blackthorn will not allow to happen.


    ¡°That is what I must consider when making my decision. I do not yet know what I will do.¡±


    I want to scream, I want to beg, I want to insist that he just tell me what he¡¯ll do, because anything is better than this dreadful not knowing. I feel myself breathing faster, hear my heartbeat in my ears.


    So soon? No. No, I can¡¯t let this happen, I can¡¯t ¨C


    That¡¯s making it worse. Already the room doesn¡¯t feel quite real. What do I do, to make this stop? Charles First-King, I think to myself. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. I make myself breathe in as I mentally recite each name and release the breath in between names.


    And my heartbeat slows, and the world comes back into focus. Despite everything I feel a faint sense of triumph.


    ¡°Is that all?¡±


    I nod shakily.


    He rises to his feet without another word and strides across the room, beckoning imperiously to Electra as he reaches the door.


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Have you no patience, Your Lordship?¡± Her words drip venom, but her tone switches in an instant to her usual teaching voice as she turns to me: ¡°Tallulah, I apologise for this intrusion, and will make sure it does not occur again. I hope you do not expect this to mean a change in our arrangements for tomorrow morning?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°After breakfast, seven and thirty.¡± Though the practical spellwork session is the last thing on my mind right now. My mind is whirling. I feel like I¡¯ve barely slept, and I know I¡¯ll sleep little after this.


    ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°I will see you then.¡± She pushes herself away from the wall and stalks after Lord Blackthorn.


    If, I add silently, one of them doesn¡¯t murder the other in this... conversation.

 33. Divination

    Electra, at least, is alive the next morning. More alive than I feel after my lack of sleep, anyway ¨C I gave up on it altogether after five and read by conjured light instead. I¡¯m tired enough that my spellcasting is noticeably worse and I struggle to think of an incantation for the flight-spell that was yesterday¡¯s main exercise.


    I was surprised when I first saw that spell: doesn¡¯t the General Animation Spell accomplish the same thing? It does, according to the notes Felicity gave me. But because of how general the spell is, it doesn¡¯t have the power to rival more specialist spells such as this one. At least, I think that¡¯s why, but the notes are lacking in detail and a little unclear besides.


    I resolve to ask Edward when I next see him, since Electra is unlikely to want to divert from this practical session for theoretical work I should already understand. Now what incantation should I use? Something about flight. Being lighter than air, moving freely upwards¡­


    ¡°Rise,¡± I whisper to myself. Simple but effective, as I¡¯ve found the best incantations are.


    Then there¡¯s practical work for Electra¡¯s own class. She¡¯s teaching a simple divination spell that will reveal whether an object is enchanted. In order to counter magical effects, her notes read, you first need to know what those effects are. And since only sensitives can detect magic directly, and they¡¯re even rarer than magicians ¨C though I know the King is always sensitive, something about the coronation ritual induces it ¨C that means learning these divination spells.


    This particular spell reacts with an object¡¯s enchantment, if it has one, to cause it to glow a pale blue for a few seconds. The problem is that it has no effect on an object without an enchantment, so it¡¯s difficult to tell whether the lack of result is because the object is mundane or because I haven¡¯t cast the spell right.


    Fortunately that can be remedied by only practicing on objects which are enchanted until I can cast correctly each time. The block of wood Electra gives me is enchanted, as is my quill. My copy of A History of the Kings of Rasin isn¡¯t enchanted, but the history of the Border Wars I¡¯m reading is. That puzzles me for a moment until I remember that it¡¯s a library book, and the library books have enchantments that allow them to survive in hyperspace.


    I quickly test the jug of water on my bedside table (not enchanted) before the thought of hyperspace can remind me of my last encounter with it.


    ¡°Now try this,¡± says Electra, tossing me another wooden block.


    Startled, I fumble the catch and it falls to the ground, landing with a soft thud. I pick it up and cast the divination spell. No result. ¡°Not enchanted,¡± I say.


    ¡°Are you sure?¡±


    With most teachers, that¡¯s an immediate sign that I¡¯ve done something wrong. With Electra it could be that, or it could be that there¡¯s a trick I was never supposed to catch, or it could be that I¡¯m perfectly right and she¡¯s just trying to unsettle me. ¡°I¡­ think so? I¡¯m reasonably sure I cast it correctly, but ¨C ¡°


    Electra summons the block to her hand with a lazy gesture, and then presses it between her palms. It turns a bright red. ¡°Still sure?¡± she asks.


    I narrow my eyes. The obvious explanation is that she¡¯s casting a spell on the block, but¡­ ¡°Less than I was,¡± I say, ¡°but how do I know it¡¯s not just you casting a spell? Or you didn¡¯t enchant it just now, after I tested it?¡±


    She tosses the block back to me without speaking.


    Slightly more prepared than last time, I catch it and try the divination spell again. Still not enchanted. I press it between my palms as Electra did, and it turns the same shade of red. ¡°So it is enchanted,¡± I say. ¡°But then how ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You still don¡¯t have definite proof. There are spells that can change the colour of an object from a distance; how do you know I wasn¡¯t casting one of those?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t,¡± I admit.


    ¡°How would you prove I¡¯m not?¡±


    After a second thought I reply ¡°If you cast something else, something with clearly visible effects, then you can¡¯t be casting a spell on the block at the same time.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s test that, then,¡± she says, and begins to move her hands in an intricate pattern, as if she¡¯s painting a tapestry in the air. Indeed, the air where her hands have been takes a new colour: she¡¯s creating an ornate white-and-gold spiral from nothing. An illusion.


    It takes me a second to remember what I¡¯m supposed to be doing: the block still turns a bright red when I press it between my palms.


    ¡°That was enough to convince most of your classmates,¡± Electra says. ¡°Edward insisted on specifying what I cast so he could be sure I wasn¡¯t using a prepared enchantment to give the illusion that I was casting an illusion. And even then, he claimed I could be secretly multi-School and a master of simultaneous casting.¡±


    I laugh. That¡¯s so typical of him I can almost hear his voice suggesting that now. ¡°Are you?¡±


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    ¡°No. Though, of course, I would say that if I was.¡±


    It¡¯s a bit of a problem, I realise, to be trying to solve a mystery under the guidance of a teacher who freely admits she could be lying to you. ¡°What¡¯s really going on, though?¡±


    ¡°There is an enchantment that is used to fool the particular divination spell you used, which combines easily with most other enchantments. I simply added that to the block. Ask the obvious question, would you? I can¡¯t rely on there always being someone who will when I¡¯m only teaching a class of one.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the point of divination spells, then, if they¡¯re so easily countered?¡± I think that¡¯s what she expects me to ask, anyway.


    ¡°Firstly,¡± says Electra, ¡°most enchanted objects will not be hidden. For instance, there is no use in hiding that your quill or book are enchanted, so divination is still useful for investigating many commonplace enchanted objects. And secondly, note that the enchantment I used counters that particular divination spell. There are many other divination spells with similar effects. Can you suggest a few ways to indirectly detect the presence of an enchantment?¡±


    ¡°If an object has more magic than the background ambience, that means it¡¯s likely enchanted,¡± I say. ¡°Or you could just¡­ try to find the trigger, if there is one ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That brute force method of investigating enchantments is very much not recommended,¡± Electra interrupts. ¡°It is time-consuming and inefficient, and also cannot be performed without activating the enchantment.¡±


    ¡°Okay, not that one. I suppose¡­¡± I think for a few seconds. ¡°Oh! How it¡¯s sourcing magic ¨C that should be detectable ¨C a lot of enchantments draw in ambient magic to keep themselves functioning. There¡¯s probably a way of detecting changes in the ambience.¡±


    ¡°Indeed there is. That is sufficient at your level. So you see the problem with countering divination?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯d have to counter each possible spell separately, which would mean combining many enchantments, and¡­ that gets really hard once you have more than three or four, even if they are the type that combine nicely.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but not perhaps to the extent it is prohibitive for a sufficiently talented magician. The real problem is how you know that you have countered all possible divination spells that could otherwise detect your enchantment.¡±


    Oh. Of course ¨C if there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learnt, it¡¯s that there are a thousand obscure spells for any purpose hidden in old books or kept as secrets by one of the old Siaril families, and even if you somehow found and countered all of them a new one could be invented.


    ¡°That is why such a piecemeal approach is in practice useless. Instead you must find a general enchantment which counters the unique element of all divination spells.¡±


    ¡°And presumably the fact you didn¡¯t do that means that¡¯s hard somehow?¡±


    ¡°Indeed. That is not the sort of enchantment which combines easily with others; there are only three known combinations in existence. Hence why there is still use in divination spells.¡±


    An interesting lesson; it always surprises me that Electra can be a good teacher when she wants to be, in her own twisted way. But it¡¯s soon over and I¡¯m alone again. I pass a little time checking every object in the room for enchantments, finding nothing unexpected.


    Then it¡¯s back to theoretical lessons. I struggle to focus without a teacher, but I have to: in two weeks I¡¯ll be going back to whatever passes for normal at the Academy and I can¡¯t be behind when that happens. This work matters.


    It gets harder and harder to keep telling myself that.


    But eventually lunchtime comes, and with it, Edward. He has no news ¨C he says that the moment he walks in, before I even have a chance to ask ¨C so instead I give him my news.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± he says. ¡°My dad sometimes forgets that normal people sleep at night.¡±


    I laugh. Mostly because I don¡¯t want to tell him what I think of his father now. He wants desperately to believe Lord Blackthorn is a good person. How could I shatter that belief?


    Neither of us want to ask the question I asked last night. What will he do?


    ¡°Electra said you thought she was secretly multi-School,¡± I say.


    ¡°When you¡¯re investigating mysterious magic you shouldn¡¯t rule anything out unless it¡¯s literally impossible. Besides, it¡¯s not too difficult to hide a second School when you don¡¯t have newspaper headlines announcing it to the entire country.¡±


    Yeah, he¡¯s still bitter about that. I can¡¯t blame him.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Stop apologising for things that aren''t your fault.¡±


    ¡°Sorr ¨C ¡° I stop myself just in time. ¡°Not sorry. Anyway, I was wondering about what we covered in Spells recently¡­¡±


    As I expected, Edward is only too happy to discuss why there is a specialist flight-spell in addition to the General Animation Spell, and we pass the rest of our lunch break talking about technical details of spell classification. That is, Edward talks about technical details of spell classification while I try to pretend I understand what he¡¯s talking about.


    But too soon, lunchtime is over and he¡¯s gone.


    Two weeks, I tell myself, two weeks and then all of this will go away. I laugh bitterly to myself.


    A few days pass. I settle into a routine of sorts. I wake at six and thirty, wash and dress myself. Electra brings me porridge at seven and watches me eat, and then takes me through the practical exercises from the previous day¡¯s lessons. I can¡¯t do any practical work for Alchemy or Astronomy, since neither a fully equipped laboratory nor the night sky can be brought into my room. But I keep up with everything else.


    Electra gives me the next day¡¯s work and leaves at eight and thirty. I work for four hours ¨C or I try to; it gets harder and harder to focus, and I often find myself just lying on the bed staring into space. I can¡¯t keep doing that or I¡¯ll fall behind.


    Twelve and thirty is lunchtime; Edward visits, tells me he has no news from his father, and keeps me up to date on what I¡¯m missing. The Cavendish trial is progressing slowly but inevitably towards its verdict. High Princess Alexandra is pregnant with her first child, and the birth is expected to be in early spring. Campaigning for the winter elections is beginning in earnest.


    Sometimes I have other visitors: Elsie comes twice in that week to talk about history and complain about teachers (though not Electra, at least in her hearing) and Elizabeth comes once. She brings a pack of cards, and we play for a while. Much to my surprise, Electra accepts her invitation to join and proceeds to mercilessly thrash us both; I¡¯m glad we weren¡¯t playing for money.


    The afternoons are much the same as the mornings, except that I find it even harder to make myself work. Once or twice, I don¡¯t even get through everything before dinner arrives at six after noon.


    Edward comes again and eats with me. He can tell I¡¯m struggling, but he doesn¡¯t mention it. We just talk about magic, politics and whatever else comes to mind.


    After dinner I read for a couple of hours and then go to bed at about nine after noon.


    And that¡¯s it.


    Until at ten and fifteen on Sunday morning there¡¯s a tapping at my window.

 34. Window

    Edward is sitting on the outside of my windowsill. My fourth-floor windowsill, with a thirty-foot drop below and no way to climb up (I¡¯ve fantasised about climbing out a few times over the past week). He doesn¡¯t look remotely concerned by that; in fact he lifts a hand to wave cheerfully at me.


    Stars help me, my best friend is mad.


    I cross the room from my desk to the window. I can open the window myself ¨C a small mercy ¨C but it opens outwards. If I flung it open it would knock Edward off and he¡¯d fall to his death. Actually, would a thirty-foot fall kill someone? I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s not been relevant knowledge until now.


    I open the window just a crack so that we can talk and ask, ¡°What in stars¡¯ names are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here to see you, obviously.¡±


    Obviously. ¡°Well ¨C yes ¨C but ¨C how did you get up here?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Levitated the top of a rope ladder up to your window.¡± He gestures downward, but the angles are wrong for me to peer out without opening the window further, which I¡¯m not prepared to do. ¡°It has a sticking enchantment at the ends.¡±


    ¡°Where did you even find a ladder? No ¨C never mind that ¨C what happens if you get caught?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t reveal my sources,¡± says Edward. ¡°And I won¡¯t get caught ¨C I know when Electra visits and can arrange to not be here then, and you¡¯d be surprised how rarely people look up.¡±


    ¡°You mean they won¡¯t notice the ladder dangling from a fourth-floor window?¡±


    ¡°I cast a veil over it.¡±


    Of course he did. Veils are a specific type of illusion; instead of having the appearance of an object that doesn¡¯t exist, they make an object that does appear like the lack of an object. They are not, as our Magical Theory teacher took pains to remind us, true invisibility. They are also very much not things a magician who¡¯s had their powers only a month should be capable of casting.


    ¡°Not a very good veil,¡± he adds as if that makes much of a difference. ¡°If anyone looks closely they¡¯ll realise there¡¯s something weird going on. But good enough I¡¯d say I have maybe one in twenty odds of being caught. And if I am? I¡¯m not in the room with you, so I¡¯m not breaching Malaina confinement. They can probably get me for casting an untaught spell and climbing Academy property without permission, but the penalties for that aren¡¯t too severe, especially since most of the staff are terrified of my father.¡±


    ¡°Electra isn¡¯t,¡± I point out.


    ¡°Which is why I¡¯m here instead of subverting her ward network to come in the usual way.¡±


    ¡°She has a ward network around this room?¡±


    ¡°How else did she know my dad paid you a visit the other night?¡±


    Yeah, that makes sense. I was honestly too overwhelmed by everything that happened that night to stop and wonder how Electra knew what was happening.


    ¡°Well,¡± Edward adds, ¡°that and the fact I¡¯m not capable of subverting her ward network. My knowledge of ward-breaking doesn¡¯t go much beyond the Explosion Theory and is entirely theoretical.¡±


    I¡¯m going to regret asking, but I have to. ¡°Explosion Theory?¡±


    ¡°Simple. The easiest way to break a ward on a building is to break the building itself. Hence, explosions.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Please don¡¯t test that theory on the room I¡¯m living in.¡±


    ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it.¡±


    ¡°But¡­¡± I take a breath before spitting out the important question. ¡°Why are you doing this?¡±


    ¡°You need me,¡± he says simply. ¡°You¡¯d be unstable after another week or so trapped in there on your own. So I¡¯m making sure you¡¯re not on your own.¡±


    I blink a few times. There¡¯s a cool autumn breeze, delightfully fresh, that ruffles Edward¡¯s hair. I hope it doesn¡¯t get too much stronger; the thing that¡¯s unstable here is his perch on the windowsill.


    ¡°Do you¡­ want to come in?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°I need to technically adhere to the rules. Besides, I wouldn¡¯t put it past Electra to ward the window.¡±


    ¡°Then what¡­¡±


    ¡°We should study together,¡± says Edward. I¡¯m not even surprised at the thought he¡¯s going to turn a narrow stone strip thirty feet above the ground into a study space. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you could levitate this book ¨C ¡° he pulls a heavy textbook from somewhere ¨C ¡°and still have enough focus to study? I need something to lean on.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not that good.¡±


    ¡°Yet,¡± says Edward. ¡°Pity. My simultaneous casting isn¡¯t at anywhere near the level I¡¯d need to levitate the book while maintaining my veil. I guess that means I¡¯m doing things the awkward mundane way.¡± He rests the book on his lap.


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    I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ll be able to focus on work right now, but I fetch my quill and half-written Magical Law and Culture Essay. The prompt is to discuss reasons behind the laws governing conjuration. Do you think the current laws are effective? What alternatives can you suggest? Sam tends to set very open-ended questions like this; I do enjoy them but it¡¯s hard to decide what to write.


    ¡°What are you working on?¡± I ask Edward.


    ¡°Advanced Magical Theory.¡± He shows me the cover of his book: A Course in the Mathematics of Enchantments. ¡°It¡¯s not as interesting as I¡¯d hoped, I know most of it already. We only just defined fields.¡±


    I win my mental struggle to not ask what a field is ¨C presumably in this context it¡¯s not a piece of land with crops growing on it and is instead some abstract mathematical concept that Edward clearly considers common knowledge. Instead I focus on trying to explain why restricting the conjuration of precious metals is necessary to ensure economic stability.


    It¡¯s the most productive session I¡¯ve had in a while, to my surprise. I¡¯m just wondering how best to frame my conclusion when the Academy clock strikes twelve and Edward announces that he needs to fetch me my lunch. I suppose he¡¯s visiting as usual to keep up the pretence to Electra that he hasn¡¯t been with me all morning.


    She probably knows something is up, though it¡¯s hard to tell with Electra: the slightly suspicious way she remarks that I seem more cheerful today might just be her usual pattern of speech. I haven¡¯t done anything wrong, I keep telling myself, so I have nothing to be worried about.


    I wrote the conclusion to my essay while waiting for her to arrive, so I give it to Electra to deliver to Sam.


    She takes the five pages of parchment from my hand and tucks them into her folder of papers. ¡°How much were you supposed to write for that essay?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Two sides of parchment,¡± Edward says. He wrote precisely that amount; he considers Magical Law and Culture a waste of time that could be better spent learning new spells. I¡¯m trying to persuade him that it¡¯s useful for people who aren¡¯t Blackthorns and thus already familiar with everything the course covers, but I¡¯ve made little progress so far.


    ¡°There wasn¡¯t a maximum, though,¡± I add hastily.


    ¡°I shall have to suggest to Sam that he implements one, then.¡±


    I hope he doesn¡¯t. I liked writing that essay, and it would have been twice as hard trying to cut it down to half the length. Though maybe I could make my handwriting a little smaller?


    Edward, stars curse him, is laughing at me. As if he isn¡¯t just as bad with his extra-curricular magic.


    ¡°I should inform you, Tallulah,¡± says Electra, ¡°that your examination will be tomorrow.¡±


    My heart skips a beat, and before I¡¯ve fully processed her words I¡¯m halfway to a Malaina episode. Charles First-King. ¡°What¡­ examination?¡± I choke out.


    ¡°It is standard practice for all Malaina stability cases the defendant is assessed by a doctor specialising in Malaina to determine whether they are in fact unstable.¡±


    That hardly sounds pleasant, but it¡¯s not a test I haven¡¯t been warned about. It¡¯s not that she¡¯s suddenly decided I¡¯m taking my final exams two terms early before we¡¯ve covered even half the material.


    I glance at the smile playing across Electra¡¯s face. Yeah, she definitely realised how I could misinterpret her words. I hate her.


    ¡°What do I need to do?¡± I ask, after taking a few seconds for my breathing to return to normal.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Electra says, ¡°except be here at eleven tomorrow morning. Though it¡¯s not like you¡¯re going to climb out the window, is it?¡±


    It takes every ounce of self-control I have to keep my face blank. Does she know? How could she know? Edward was careful, and if she knew wouldn¡¯t she have just punished him immediately instead of¡­


    Instead of holding it over both of us so we¡¯re constantly terrified of being caught, especially when she drops hints that she knows and has the satisfaction of watching us squirm?


    This is exactly what Electra would do if she knew.


    My heart sinks a little. Crazy though it was for Edward to do that, it worked. I felt more alive than I had in days, I smiled and laughed and worked effectively.


    And now even that small mercy has been taken away.


    It¡¯s only another week. I¡¯ll survive it.


    Somehow.


    I don¡¯t work all afternoon. Instead I spend it lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling and hoping against hope to hear a tapping at my window and see the familiar face of the grinning madman who¡¯s somehow become my best friend. But he doesn¡¯t come. It¡¯s the sensible choice; the consequences of his being caught would be more serious than he tried to tell me this morning, and I can¡¯t ask him to take that sort of risk for my sake.


    I can wish he would, though, and that¡¯s what I do.


    I keep wishing until six after noon comes around and Edward and Electra return. I have no more assignments to hand in, and my next is due tomorrow morning. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t have written so much for that essay after all. Why couldn¡¯t I have just made myself work through a set of Magical Theory questions, or done anything this afternoon?


    And if this examination is going to take up most of the morning then I¡¯m going to end up being behind, missing deadlines and unable to keep up with Electra¡¯s practical work sessions, and ¨C


    ¡°Tallulah, are you okay?¡±


    I blink a few times. Charles First-King. ¡°Yup,¡± I lie. ¡°Fine.¡± Edwin the Just.


    I¡¯m going to be okay, at least, and that should count.


    I force myself to work for a while that evening, even though I just want to curl in a ball and read A History of the Kings of Rasin or sleep. The Magical Theory questions aren¡¯t hard, but the calculations are long and fiddly. I hate them.


    I get them done by eight after noon. That¡¯s good: I don¡¯t have any more lessons to get through until tomorrow morning, and Spells homework is practical so I¡¯ll have to wait until tomorrow morning¡¯s session with Electra, so I¡¯m only left with Enchantments.


    Which is a problem, because when I look at the assignment I realise it requires us to research different forms of appearance-modifying enchantment. Relevant books may be found in the library. And I can¡¯t go to the library: I¡¯ll have to ask Electra when she comes tomorrow morning and even then I won¡¯t get the books until lunchtime. And I don¡¯t even know what relevant books are supposed to be.


    Still. Nothing I can do about it now.


    I read for two hours and then sleep. Well, try to sleep: despite my longing for it, it¡¯s a long time coming, and when I do sleep I¡¯m plagued by dreams of fire. The Academy is burning; the scent of smoke is in the air and the flames flicker against the dark night sky. I¡¯ve climbed onto the statue of the Mages in a deserted Central Ring to watch ¨C no, not to watch, because I¡¯m the one doing this.


    Hundreds of students asleep in their beds. Centuries of history, portraits and tapestries and books. Priceless research equipment. All of it is being destroyed. Because of me.


    Edward is in there, I realise. He¡¯s going to die. I¡¯m going to kill him.


    And I don¡¯t care.


    I wake sweating at two and thirty after midnight, wondering if that¡¯s what it feels like to be mala sia. Wondering if that¡¯s what I¡¯ll one day become.

 35. Interlude: Too Good to be True

    It wasn¡¯t easy, Ben was learning, to arrange to meet Lord Blackthorn. He wasn¡¯t prepared to entrust something like this to a letter, and if he wasn¡¯t clear about how important it was, a message could just be thrown out by a secretary before even reaching him.


    So he had to go to Lord Blackthorn¡¯s office and speak to someone who could get him an appointment. Which was easier said than done: Lord Blackthorn had three offices. One in Parliament, one in the Ministry for Intelligence and one in the Magicians¡¯ Building ¨C and all of them in Ryk.


    There was no Electra to teleport him there this time, and he couldn¡¯t take the time to travel the long way, so he resigned himself to paying the Portal toll and then walking through the capital city. The Magicians¡¯ Building was the only one that allowed the public to enter without specific permission, so that was the one he went to a week after his last visit to the City, as soon as he could find a time when he could escape work while the Magicians¡¯ Building was open.


    The ground floor of the building was thronged with people: those seeking appointments with one of the five Royal Magicians, those here to report magical incidents or register newly-invented spells and enchantments or hire out their services to anyone in need of a magician, and a small horde of workers frantically working their way through the long queues and running to fetch the right papers.


    Ben didn¡¯t like crowds, and the thought of plunging into this one was not a pleasant one. But he had no choice, so he stepped inside and immediately regretted not looking around beforehand. It was hard to tell which of the dozens of desks belonged to Lord Blackthorn¡¯s secretary, and by the time he¡¯d spent a minute figuring it out he¡¯d been barged into three times and sworn at twice.


    He fought his way through the crowd to the relevant queue. It was shorter than he¡¯d expected, with only half a dozen people in it. Perhaps most were too scared of him to want to meet him. Ben would have been under normal circumstances.


    The noise of a hundred conversations was deafening, and the enchanted light was unreasonably bright. Ben stared fixedly at the coat of the man in front of him, who was smartly-dressed but leant on a heavy black cane.


    ¡°Excuse me, sir ¨C ¡° A harried-looking young worker squeezed through the gap between them and darted off towards the neighbouring desk.


    The queue moved forwards slowly; it took five minutes before the old woman who appeared to be Lord Blackthorn¡¯s secretary (or, more likely, one of his secretaries) reached the man in front of Ben.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to make an appointment for next Tuesday,¡± the man said in an upper-class accent.


    ¡°I don¡¯t make appointments for Lord Blackthorn. If ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What kind of a policy is that? I need to speak to him!¡±


    Ben agreed with the sentiment, though not with the aggressive tone. He couldn¡¯t let himself be trapped in bureaucracy ¨C he only had a week to get this meeting, and the sooner the better.


    ¡°If you tell me your business with him and your contact details, I will pass that along to Lord Blackthorn, and he will be in touch if he decides your request is worth his time,¡± the woman explained with a long-suffering air.


    ¡°Of course my request is worth his bloody time! Do you know who I am?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the secretary said, ¡°because you haven¡¯t told me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m Piers starry Grainger, founder and owner of Enchanted Materials Trading, and I could make Lord Blackthorn a fortune!¡±


    ¡°Lord Blackthorn,¡± said the secretary coldly, ¡°already has a fortune. Could I take your contact details?¡±


    The man stared at her for a long moment, but eventually fired an address at her and stalked away without another word.


    Ben stepped forwards. ¡°Benjamin Roberts,¡± he said. ¡°Lawyer, of Roberts and Bryant, Silver Street, Crelt.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re representing someone who wants to bring a case against Lord Blackthorn, you¡¯ve come to the wrong place.¡±


    Oh. Yes, that would be the natural reaction to someone introducing themselves as a lawyer. He felt like a fool. ¡°No ¨C ¡° he said, ¡°no, I¡¯m not. I need to speak with Lord Blackthorn about an urgent personal matter.¡±


    The secretary raised a sceptical eyebrow. ¡°An urgent personal matter,¡± she repeated.


    She might as well have said what they both knew she was thinking: what personal business could someone like him possibly have with Lord Blackthorn? He would have quite happily agreed with her until a few days ago. Stars, he wished he still could.


    ¡°He¡¯ll know what I mean,¡± Ben said. There wasn¡¯t a chance he was going into detail about it here in public, and presumably the Minister for Intelligence was smart enough to notice that the man wanting to talk to him about an urgent personal matter had the same surname as his son¡¯s isolated friend and realise what that meant.


    ¡°Is that so,¡± the secretary said. ¡°Well, I have made a note of the matter, and will pass it on to him as soon as I can.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± said Ben, and fled the building.


    ¡°How was work?¡± asked Louise as they sat down for dinner.


    Ben shrugged. ¡°Same old, same old. Met with a few clients, prepared for the hearing tomorrow. You?¡±


    He wasn¡¯t lying to his wife. Thanks to the wonders of the Portal Network, he¡¯d been back in his office by lunchtime, and had done all of those things this afternoon. And the fact he¡¯d also discussed the financial situation with Simon again didn¡¯t make much of a difference, either.


    Still, though, there was no denying that he was keeping secrets from the woman he loved, the woman he¡¯d vowed to spend his whole life with. And he didn¡¯t like it one bit.


    Nor did he like why he kept the secrets nonetheless, beyond having given his word to Tallulah. He knew how Louise would react if he told her, and he didn¡¯t want to hear her say those things.


    Lost in those thoughts, he was only half-listening to Louise¡¯s complaint about her boss¡¯s latest unreasonable demands. He overworked her, and she was wearing herself thin trying to meet his unrealistic expectations only to have more work piled atop the heap.


    It was the stress that was doing it. That combined with having a daughter Fall¡­ she wasn¡¯t coping well, but she would recover.


    There was a knock at the door.


    ¡°Expecting anyone?¡± Ben asked.


    ¡°No,¡± said Louise. ¡°Are you?¡±


    Was he imagining the edge to her voice? ¡°No. Probably a salesman. I¡¯ll tell them to go away.¡± He pushed his chair back, marched through the dining room and hallway to the door, and opened it.


    ¡°Mr Roberts?¡± said the man standing on the other side. He didn¡¯t look like a salesman; in fact he didn¡¯t look like much of anything really. His features were plain and unremarkable save for his narrow grey eyes, his clothes were well-tailored but not particularly expensive, he had a slight accent that Ben couldn¡¯t quite place.


    ¡°Yes,¡± said Ben, confused. ¡°How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°You asked to meet with me, did you not?¡±


    Oh. Oh. Stars. He was here. The Black Raven was here on their doorstep. He¡¯d expected at least a day¡¯s warning, and to be expected to travel to Ryk again, not¡­ this.


    Once the initial shock had faded another horrified thought hit him: Louise couldn¡¯t know he was here. She couldn¡¯t find out what he¡¯d been keeping from her. That scene was never going to be a pretty one, and Lord Blackthorn was the last person he wanted to bear witness to it.


    He was just about to ask whether they could go elsewhere, teleport if they had to, when it became too late.


    ¡°Good evening, sir,¡± said Louise, her professional mask slipping into place as she stepped down the hallway towards Ben. ¡°Are you here to discuss business with my husband?¡±


    ¡°You could say that, yes,¡± replied the Black Raven.


    ¡°Sorry for not warning you,¡± Ben added. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect him to come so soon.¡±


    ¡°You said it was urgent.¡±


    He had. Ben felt a pang of guilt at taking a whole week to arrange this meeting when Lord Blackthorn, who was holding down two of the most important jobs in the country simultaneously, arrived only hours after he¡¯d got the message.


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    ¡°Well, do come in, then! We were just eating, but you¡¯re welcome to join us, there¡¯s plenty of stew left!¡±


    Louise¡¯s welcoming charm seemed to have no effect. It was all Ben could do not to cringe. His wife¡¯s cooking was good, but hardly anything special, and the thought of Lord Blackthorn helping himself to a portion was absurd.


    ¡°I would prefer to get straight to business. Do you have a suitably private room?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Louise continued, unabashed, ¡°the study is free at the moment.¡±


    It had been free for three weeks. When they¡¯d first moved in it had seemed essential to have a study so that either of them could work when at home, but their jobs both demanded long enough hours that they¡¯d never needed it. In the end Tallulah was the one who¡¯d worked there.


    ¡°May I have your permission to cast additional privacy wards?¡± Lord Blackthorn asked. ¡°They are strictly temporary and will have no effect on your existing network.¡±


    Louise shot Ben a startled look. That was going to make the explanation even more difficult.


    ¡°Of course,¡± said Ben, continuing the polite pretence that they had an existing ward network to affect. He wasn¡¯t entirely comfortable with Lord Blackthorn setting up wards in his home, but if that was the price of this conversation then he¡¯d pay it a hundred times over for Tallulah.


    ¡°I¡¯ll just show you to the study, then,¡± said Louise, doing an admirable job of maintaining her composure. ¡°Can I offer you a drink, Mr¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I don¡¯t know your name.¡±


    Ben waited for Lord Blackthorn to tell her and quite possibly destroy his marriage, but all he said was ¡°Good. I will decline your drinks.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t far to the study, but it felt like a mile. Louise made a couple more attempts at starting conversation, which the Black Raven efficiently shut down. Eventually they reached the study door and she was left with no choice but to show them in and leave.


    Lord Blackthorn snapped his fingers the instant the door closed behind them. A stick of chalk flew out from a pocket towards the corner of the study and began to trace an outline of the room. Ben bit back a protest; he¡¯d said it would be temporary, after all.


    There was only one chair in the study, and Ben didn¡¯t quite know whether to take it or offer it to his guest. He wanted to sit down and have the reassuring wood against his back, but Lord Blackthorn might take offence at that, and he knew the consequences of offending a man like that.


    So he hovered awkwardly as the chalk finished its circuit of the room and twisted itself sideways to outline the doorframe as well. It darted upwards with unnatural speed, and before Ben knew it a complex symbol was being written on the door: it seemed to consist of a large circle, divided into a dozen regions and with many smaller circles intersecting them all.


    Finally the chalk flew back into Lord Blackthorn¡¯s hand. He took one step towards the door, placed his palm in the centre of the circle, and nodded once. ¡°Your wife doesn¡¯t know who I am,¡± he said, turning to face Ben. ¡°You didn¡¯t tell her.¡±


    Ben blinked. He didn¡¯t particularly want to discuss that of all things, but he didn¡¯t dare refuse. ¡°No,¡± he said, ¡°I didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Do sit down, by the way. I prefer to stand.¡±


    Ben pulled the chair out from the desk, turned it around and sat gratefully down.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    Ben barely even knew the answer to that himself, never mind how to explain it to this man. ¡°Tallulah asked me not to tell her about¡­ the incident,¡± he said after a moment. ¡°And I keep my promises.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s not close with her mother, then?¡±


    Ben had always thought Tallulah was closer with Louise than him, but that only went to show how little time he¡¯d spent with either of them in the past few years. ¡°Not since her Fall,¡± he said, hating the feeling of saying the word Fall out loud.


    ¡°What do you know about this new incident?¡±


    ¡°Everything Tallulah does.¡±


    ¡°She told you her theory about the reason behind it?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Ben admitted. ¡°Your son did.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn began to pace back and forth. ¡°That is most out of character for him,¡± he said. ¡°He knows how to keep secrets and the importance of doing so.¡±


    Ben assumed the silence that followed meant he was waiting for an answer despite not having asked a question. ¡°I can¡¯t speak to your son¡¯s character. I¡¯ve only met him once. But I know what he told me.¡±


    The Black Raven nodded slowly. ¡°What was your impression of his relationship with your daughter?¡±


    Ben closed his eyes in thought for a second. ¡°They¡¯re very close,¡± he said. ¡°I could tell he cares a lot about her. I don¡¯t exactly know how she feels, but I imagine similarly.¡±


    ¡°And do you approve of this friendship?¡±


    Ben was no politician or spymaster, but he could still clearly see that question was a trap. Admitting he didn¡¯t meant criticising Lord Blackthorn¡¯s son and by extension him, and lying that he did would be easily seen through.


    Thankfully there was another answer that was no less true. ¡°I forfeited my right to have an opinion on my daughter¡¯s friends when I let her Fall without even noticing.¡±


    Wait ¨C no ¨C Edward Blackthorn was also Malaina ¨C it was only too easy to interpret his words as accusing Lord Blackthorn of being a bad father when he¡¯d only wanted to accuse himself ¨C


    ¡°What do you plan to do about Roberts and Bryant¡¯s financial situation?¡±


    Ben was glad he was sitting down, because otherwise his legs might have given way. Not only from that complete change of topic but from wondering how in stars¡¯ names Lord Blackthorn knew that ¨C he¡¯d only figured it out himself a week ago ¨C there was no way he had a spy in the law firm¡­ was there?


    ¡°How do you know about that?¡± he asked once he trusted himself to speak again.


    ¡°I always have my sources,¡± said Lord Blackthorn with a mysterious smile. ¡°I ask because you are in need of a large amount of money. And I happen to possess a large amount of money.¡±


    Ben froze.


    Even if it hadn¡¯t been Lord Blackthorn speaking, he¡¯d have been wary. Offers like that never came without a heavy cost. And in this case, he had a terrible suspicion of what that cost might be. ¡°No price is worth my daughter¡¯s freedom,¡± he said icily, almost forgetting to be afraid.


    ¡°You misunderstand me. I want to buy your services.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ want to hire Roberts and Bryant as your lawyers¡­¡± Ben said disbelievingly. ¡°Why? Why not Greenwood, or Silvers, or one of the other big firms?¡±


    ¡°Those firms are motivated above all by profit,¡± Lord Blackthorn said. ¡°Valuable information entrusted to them in confidence may often¡­ find its way into the wrong hands. I cannot trust them. What I want is a firm that needs me as much as I need them.¡±


    Or considerably more, Ben mentally added. He and Simon were competent lawyers, but what they could offer Lord Blackthorn wasn¡¯t even close to the money he could offer them.


    But. It was Lord Blackthorn. There was a grim irony in how he rejected the big firms for being motivated by profit and then tried to motivate Ben with a large sum of money. He had no illusions about the¡­ ethical compromises that would be necessary to work for the Black Raven.


    Especially when this wasn¡¯t about the business. It wasn¡¯t about money.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± he said.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Lord Blackthorn agreed.


    ¡°Is that your price? You save my daughter and gain me as your lawyer?¡± He had to force out each bitter word.


    There was no right choice there.


    ¡°No,¡± said Lord Blackthorn sharply. ¡°I will not let her be imprisoned or declared unstable, regardless of whether you take my offer. You have my word on that.¡±


    Ben was almost too numb from the emotional whirlwind of this conversation to feel relief. Tallulah would be safe. He had Lord Blackthorn¡¯s word.


    But what was the word of the infamous politician and spymaster, of all people, really worth?


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he said, because the only option was to pretend he believed him, regardless. ¡°Do you¡­ need a decision now, or¡­¡±


    If he needed a decision now, he wouldn¡¯t be getting one. Ben wasn¡¯t going to do anything with this offer until his daughter was safe, and even then he couldn¡¯t make this big a decision without consulting Simon.


    Lord Blackthorn shook his head. ¡°Take as long as you need, ask as many questions as you need.¡±


    Questions. Yes. He needed more information. ¡°Exactly¡­ how much money are we talking here?¡±


    ¡°How much do you need?¡±


    Ben cursed himself for not paying enough attention when Simon showed him the numbers. There wasn¡¯t even a hope of being able to calculate a reasonable estimate of how much additional money the business needed. ¡°I¡­ I¡¯d need to check some figures, and consult with my partner ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Of course. Be aware that I have a good approximation of your operating costs, and I will know if your number deviates too far from that approximation.¡±


    By which he meant don¡¯t try to take more money than you need. Not that he had any need to be concerned: Ben was nowhere near foolish enough to try conning Lord Blackthorn even if he didn¡¯t have a strong moral code.


    ¡°Would it be a one-time payment or¡­¡±


    ¡°Per month. With additional fees for work done on my behalf, and for any inconveniences that may result.¡±


    Ben blinked a few times. That was an even better offer than he¡¯d originally imagined: not just keeping Roberts and Bryant alive, but setting it up for a prosperous future. ¡°Our other clients¡­¡± he said. ¡°Forgive me, but I don¡¯t want to abandon them.¡±


    ¡°There is no exclusivity clause. I may occasionally require you to prioritise my cases, but that would fall under the inconveniences I mentioned earlier.¡±


    This seemed too good to be true, which meant it probably was. ¡°What¡­ sort of cases would we be working on?¡± Ben asked.


    ¡°I should have been more clear about that from the start. I intend to hire Roberts and Bryant as lawyers to the Blackthorn family, as any lord is entitled to hire tradespeople. That means your clients will be me, my son, my niece and my sister-in-law. You will not work on any Intelligence-related matters, the Ministry has its own legal team. You may be required to defend me in my capacity as a Royal Magician. There is a likelihood that you will be working on cases involving the rights and privileges of my family, on cases involving Malaina, and possibly on certain discreet matters involving my niece.¡±


    No Intelligence work. Nothing about defending his actions in brutally putting down protests or riots, his methods of information-gathering, the dreadful things rumour said he did. Part of him started to seriously consider this opportunity for the first time, even as the voice of his ethics professor recited something about denying responsibility just because he wouldn¡¯t be personally involved in it.


    Then he processed what Lord Blackthorn had said. ¡°With respect, you¡¯re asking for specialist knowledge in many different areas of law. Roberts and Bryant simply doesn¡¯t have that.¡±


    ¡°No, but I¡¯m sure you have the ability to learn. Especially since I can provide whatever texts you would need to accomplish that.¡±


    He had an answer for everything.


    Ben was still deeply uneasy about this, but he couldn¡¯t turn down the chance to save the business. ¡°No further questions,¡± he said. ¡°Though I expect my business partner will have many when I speak to him. Is there a more efficient way to reach you than your secretary in the Magicians¡¯ Building?¡±


    Lord Blackthorn nodded and handed him a scrap of parchment on which an address was written. ¡°Letters sent to this address will reach me. Or perhaps I will visit you at your office; teleportation means it is scarcely an inconvenience for me to travel there.¡±


    ¡°I would prefer,¡± Ben managed, ¡°if you visited the office rather than my home in future.¡±


    ¡°Understood. Is there anything else?¡±


    ¡°You swear you¡¯ll save Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°On my son¡¯s life,¡± Lord Blackthorn replied, and there was no room for doubt in his words. Then he clapped his hands, and the chalk dust flew away from the walls and the door and into the scrap-paper basket under the desk. ¡°I hope to hear from you soon.¡±


    He turned on the spot and vanished.


    Ben was fairly sure he¡¯d teleported, but he still stood in silence for several seconds and then touched the air where Lord Blackthorn had stood. Nothing there. He was gone.


    It struck him suddenly that a magician could teleport to any location they had previously visited, and that the house had no ward network. Lord Blackthorn could effortlessly break into their house any time he wanted.


    And it also struck him that he had to explain to Louise who their guest was and why he had vanished.

 36. Examination

    I do eventually sleep again, but I don¡¯t feel well-rested when Electra comes the next morning, and my performance at practical casting makes that clear. Electra doesn¡¯t criticise it, despite there being plenty to criticise. That¡¯s almost more unsettling than if she¡¯d viciously torn into my inaccurate hand movements and awful hunched posture.


    I won¡¯t be surprised if it turns out she¡¯s adopted niceness as a new way to unsettle people. If she has, it¡¯s working. At least I remember to request the books I need for Enchantments homework.


    She leaves to prepare for her class at eight and thirty, which gives me two and a half hours before the examination. I have the notes for this morning¡¯s lessons, and I should work through them, but I just don¡¯t want to. All I want to do is sleep and wake up when all of this is over and I can go back to some semblance of a normal life.


    I can¡¯t be asleep when the doctor arrives, though. I need to convince him that I¡¯m normal and stable and there¡¯s nothing wrong with me, and being asleep at eleven after midnight is not a good way to do that.


    Instead I re-braid my hair, more thoroughly than I did when half-asleep earlier, and put on what turns out to be my last clean dress. I didn¡¯t even consider how my laundry would get done while I¡¯m here, but the cleaner isn¡¯t allowed in to empty the rapidly-filling basket of dirty clothes in the bathroom. I¡¯ll have to add it to my list of things to ask Electra. Washing was often one of my chores at home, but the Academy has spoilt me. Doing it myself seems unthinkable now.


    Having gone to the effort of making myself somewhat presentable, I can¡¯t now ruin it by crawling back into bed, so I sit on the chair and read the latest book Edward fetched me from the library, Notable Royal Magicians of the Past Two Centuries. Several of his ancestors feature prominently, unsurprisingly; he mentions that he can¡¯t vouch for the historical accuracy of those accounts.


    I should interrogate him about his family¡¯s history, really. I¡¯m surprised I haven¡¯t already. It¡¯s never felt quite right for some reason.


    The book is well-written enough to be engaging, regardless of its accuracy, and it passes the time. I¡¯m twelve chapters in and absorbed in an account of the creation of the Portal Network when there¡¯s a knock at the door.


    I haven¡¯t been able to find the energy to be properly nervous until now, but the nerves make up for it by hitting me all at once. It feels like the beginning of a Malaina episode. Which is precisely what I don''t need right now. ¡°Come in,¡± I say, relieved my voice sounds steady.


    Electra opens the door and steps inside. ¡°This is Doctor Wandsworth from the Institute of Malaina Treatment and Care,¡± she says, indicating the man following her inside. He¡¯s about the same height as she is, though considerably wider and ruddier in complexion; his hair is a rusty-orange colour, as is his beard, and he wears a pair of round-rimmed spectacles and a white lab coat that¡¯s slightly too small for him, judging by the strain its buttons are under.


    ¡°And you must be Tallulah,¡± he says. ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    I slide my bookmark into place on page one hundred and thirteen and close the book without letting it snap shut. What does he want to hear? ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say. ¡°Missing classes. It¡¯s good to meet you, Doctor.¡± I stand and offer him my hand to shake.


    He looks a little startled, but takes it and squeezes it gently. His palms are clammy, and I want to pull my hand away. But the perfectly normal, polite girl I¡¯m acting the part of would never do something so rude, so nor do I.


    ¡°Missing classes, you say,¡± he says, looking around for somewhere to sit. The only chair is the one I was just sitting in. ¡°You¡¯re a keen student, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I reply. Keep the answers simple, neutral. Don¡¯t give him anything to latch onto. And since I¡¯m being polite: ¡°Would you like to sit down? You can have my chair.¡± I take a couple of steps to the edge of the bed and perch on it.


    ¡°Yes, thank you,¡± he says, easing himself into the chair and setting down his bag. To my dismay he immediately opens the bag and begins pulling out a set of wires attached to a strange metallic device. He takes a moment to untangle the wires and study the device, then sets it down beside him.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to take some measurements of your magical signature,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    I hate it when people say that, even though in this instance he¡¯s probably right. Each magician has a unique magical signature; taking measurements of it can determine their School, power and which areas of magic they have the most talent for ¨C though Edward claims most measurement techniques are unreliable and a waste of time.


    It also shows fluctuations when a magician is casting, or in the case of Malaina when they¡¯re close to an episode. It¡¯s one of few guaranteed ways of detecting mala sia, which have completely different signatures to normal magicians.


    So, nothing to worry about, assuming I¡¯m not close to an episode. I don¡¯t think I am.


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    ¡°Could you give me your hand?¡± asks Doctor Wandsworth as he gets to his feet, still holding the wires.


    I hold out my hand, and he loops the end of the wire around my finger, tighter than is comfortable; I bite my lip to hide the pain. It¡¯s bearable by the time he ties off the end and steps away. He returns to his seat and picks up the device attached to the other end of the wire. I¡¯m curious about how it works, but it hardly seems the time to ask to study it.


    After a moment he pulls parchment and quill from his bag and scribbles a few notes. ¡°Now,¡± he says when he¡¯s finished, ¡°can I ask you to channel magic through the wire?¡±


    I close my eyes and sink into the familiar calmness of working magic. It¡¯s easy now to focus on the cold tightness of the wire around my finger and let a little magic flow through my body into the metal. I¡¯m not even close to losing control. Despite myself, I smile a little.


    ¡°This is unusual,¡± says Doctor Wandsworth.


    I tense and open my eyes. Unusual is not a good thing right now. But I have to stay calm ¨C Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. ¡°May I ask what is unusual?¡±


    ¡°The readings,¡± says the doctor, staring fixedly at his device. ¡°They don¡¯t match anything I¡¯ve seen ¨C ¡°


    Bang.


    I force myself to keep breathing, tell myself that nothing is wrong.


    There¡¯s a faint trail of smoke coming from the device in Doctor Wandsworth¡¯s hands, and I can just make out that the wire close to the device is charred and broken.


    Did I do that? I don¡¯t think I did. I have an unfortunately good idea what a Malaina episode feels like by now, and this isn¡¯t it.


    ¡°Must¡¯ve malfunctioned,¡± the doctor mutters, setting the broken device down beside him. ¡°They do that sometimes, if the enchantments aren¡¯t up to scratch. I¡¯ll have to complain to my supplier. Well, I can¡¯t finish that part of the examination without a working signature-tester, but we can still go through the interview, if you¡¯re ready?¡±


    I¡¯m not ready. I want to know exactly what this malfunction was, and whether it was my fault, and what the unusual readings just before were. But I¡¯m playing a perfectly normal, stable, polite girl who wouldn¡¯t dare ask such questions of a doctor. ¡°May I take the wire off my finger first?¡± I ask instead.


    ¡°Yes ¨C certainly.¡±


    He waits for me to unwind the wire and rub life back into my finger before beginning the interview.


    It¡¯s about what I expected: questions about how I Fell, what tends to trigger Malaina episodes, what triggered the one that brought me here. I tell the story of the incident in the library yet another time ¨C or a heavily censored version, anyway, focusing on my guilt over the Cavendish case and how I felt I was complicit due to being friends with Edward Blackthorn and carefully sidestepping the meeting with Lord Blackthorn, Mildred¡¯s provocations and anything else sensitive.


    I¡¯ve rehearsed this story in my mind enough that I can tell it without it being obvious I¡¯m concealing things, but I can¡¯t help being nervous about Electra. She knows the real story; there was no way to hide it from her. She could reveal all my secrets if she wanted to.


    But she doesn¡¯t.


    So I keep talking, keep pretending to be normal, until Doctor Wandsworth is done with his questions and leaves.


    ¡°I will be back shortly with lunch,¡± says Electra, stepping towards the door.


    ¡°No ¨C wait ¨C ¡° I can¡¯t wait any longer; I don¡¯t know how I had the self-restraint to wait as long as I did. ¡°What happened with the device?¡±


    ¡°It malfunctioned,¡± Electra says flatly. ¡°They do that sometimes.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. I don¡¯t know much about enchantments, but it seems strange for one to just explode for no reason. ¡°Was it me? Did I¡­¡±


    ¡°No. You know enough about Malaina now to know that you couldn¡¯t cause something like that without knowing it. Unless perhaps you were mala sia, but I think that would have become apparent long before now.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C at the hearing ¨C will it make me look worse?¡±


    ¡°No, but it does mean the signature evidence cannot be used in your defence.¡±


    ¡°Couldn¡¯t we ¨C schedule another appointment, then? Have it done with a device that works this time?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that will be necessary. Is that all?¡±


    I didn¡¯t ask that question intending it to be a test, but it became one: if it really was just a malfunctioning device, there¡¯s no reason not to schedule another appointment. So it¡¯s not the device. It¡¯s me. There¡¯s something strange about me and my magic that Electra wants to keep a secret ¨C


    And that explains why the device exploded. Electra made it happen, because she didn¡¯t want Doctor Wandsworth to be able to record these unusual readings. She doesn¡¯t want anyone to know what¡¯s wrong with me. Including me.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, wanting desperately to ask her what she¡¯s keeping from me. ¡°That¡¯s all.¡±


    I don¡¯t dare ask, though. Not when she clearly doesn¡¯t want to tell me and I¡¯m all too aware that she controls my access to the outside world. Maybe I¡¯m a coward, but I don¡¯t think I could stand being completely alone for the next week. It¡¯s hard enough as it is.


    There has to be a way I can find out, though. Once I¡¯m free, I can get hold of one of those devices for myself ¨C I don¡¯t have the first idea how, but I¡¯m willing to bet Edward does ¨C and take my own readings.


    Not that I¡¯d know how to understand them.


    I collapse onto my bed and stare unmoving at the ceiling until Electra returns with Edward and lunch.


    I can¡¯t even talk to Edward about this for the next week, because if he doesn¡¯t come to the window again ¨C and I expect he won¡¯t, it¡¯s too risky ¨C then there¡¯s no way of having a conversation that Electra can¡¯t hear.


    ¡°How was the examination?¡± he asks, setting a bowl of soup down on my desk.


    ¡°Good,¡± I say, ¡°I think so, anyway. I didn¡¯t have an episode during it. That¡¯s what counts, right?¡±


    He cracks a grim smile. ¡°No news, by the way.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t expecting news. I¡¯ve resigned myself by now to the fact that Lord Blackthorn isn¡¯t going to save me. I¡¯ll have to prove in court that I¡¯m stable. ¡°Thanks. Actually ¨C ¡° I have a flash of inspiration ¨C ¡°something weird happened in the examination. The device they were using to measure my signature ¨C it suddenly exploded just as the doctor was taking readings. Apparently it malfunctioned.¡±


    Electra watches me with narrowed eyes. Though that¡¯s the way Electra always watches me, so I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s figured out what I¡¯m doing. I can still tell Edward the facts of the situation, because of course I¡¯d tell my best friend if something unusual happened ¨C and presumably he knows enough about enchantments to have a good chance at piecing together what I¡¯ve realised, even with less information than I have.


    I hope he can solve this mystery, because I know for a fact I can¡¯t.

 37. Counting Down the Days, Part One

    I start counting down the days to the hearing. There are six of them left when I wake up the morning after the ill-fated examination. I wonder if Edward realised there was something strange happening, and if he¡¯s been investigating. I think I succeed in passing off my terror that Electra knows I know as general terror of Electra, though I can never be quite sure with her.


    Edward brings me a report on the Cavendish trial. Mildred has been giving testimony for the defence, though it amounts to little more than claiming she knew nothing about any treasonous activity. Even I can tell that proves nothing even if true. Closing arguments are to be presented tomorrow, and then the verdict will be announced on Thursday.


    As for the sentencing, there isn¡¯t a date scheduled; he hasn¡¯t even been found guilty yet, after all. It depends on the King, Edward says, and he could decide to pronounce the sentence the same day of the verdict or delay it for months. I vaguely recall from my research that he can¡¯t stall indefinitely, though: James the Wise infamously never sentenced his treasonous brother, unable to bring himself to sign the death warrant of family, and in the end Parliament overruled him and voted to condemn the would-be usurper.


    The only date that matters for me, though, is the one in six days¡¯ time. If the sentencing happens before my hearing, and if it¡¯s what most people expect it to be¡­ then there will be no prospect of a deal between Mildred and Lord Blackthorn.


    ¡°You¡¯ll need a lawyer,¡± says Edward.


    I nod. It can¡¯t be Roberts and Bryant due to the evident conflict of interest, even if it was Simon rather than my dad who actually represented me. Maybe I could get him to recommend one of his contacts, though, if I can get a message to him on time. My lack of budget is going to rule out most options, though ¨C


    ¡°I can probably find an ambitious young one who would like to be on good terms with Lord Blackthorn¡¯s son. And the fees are no problem, stop worrying about them ¨C yes, I know what you¡¯re thinking.¡±


    ¡°Edward, I can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You can¡¯t be judged unstable because you don¡¯t have a good lawyer or be burdened with debt because you can¡¯t afford one. Not when I can fix both those problems. If you insist, I¡¯ll let you pay me back some day, but I am not charging you interest.¡±


    Yeah. He has a point, and he also has that look in his eyes that means there¡¯s not a chance I¡¯m talking him out of this. So I guess I¡¯m letting him find and pay for my lawyer. I¡¯ll try to pay him back some day when I¡¯ve made my fortune. If I make a fortune. If I¡¯m found stable at the hearing so I have even the chance of making a fortune.


    When did my life and my future start depending on so much that¡¯s outside my control?


    I know the exact answer to that question. That moment under the willow tree nearly a month ago.


    ¡°Negative interest?¡± I joke, remembering Lord Blackthorn¡¯s negative salary.


    Edward grins. ¡°I suppose I could be persuaded to charge negative interest. Shall we save the negotiations for once we know the exact amount?¡±


    He¡¯s actually going to charge me negative interest now, isn¡¯t he? I suppose I did ask for it. ¡°That sounds¡­ adequate,¡± I say.


    ¡°Pleasure doing business with you.¡±


    ¡°Likewise.¡±


    And another day passes, both quick and slow at the same time. The afternoon seems to drag on for an eternity while I¡¯m living it, but as I get ready for bed I wonder what happened to the day and the work I planned to do in it.


    Then there are five days. Edward went to the courtroom to watch the closing arguments in the Cavendish trial in his free period, and he fills me in over dinner. Though it isn¡¯t hard to get the general idea from how coldly furious he is.


    ¡°Their entire argument is that my father would frame a political enemy for treason if it suited him, ignoring the fact that dozens of officials in the Ministry of Intelligence have uncovered evidence or seen the documents, and there¡¯s no way all of them would be more loyal to my dad than the King.¡±


    For a moment I thought he was angry because his father would never frame someone for treason since that would be morally wrong. But no, this is the Blackthorn family: if someone assassinated one of them, they¡¯d die criticising their killer¡¯s magical technique.


    ¡°People do believe he would do something like that, though. That¡¯s why it¡¯s an effective argument.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡±


    I don¡¯t finish that day¡¯s work before dinner. It gets harder and harder to bring myself to care about it. What does it matter if I¡¯m one day behind on lessons when I might not even be a student here at the end of the week?


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I lose myself in A History of the Kings of Rasin when I should be working. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve always done near exams at Genford when I know I need to spend another day revising but just can¡¯t face it. It was written for children, so it¡¯s much easier reading than any of my other history books, and besides I¡¯ve read it enough I could almost recite the whole thing by heart.


    I finish the book for what must be at least the tenth time this evening. It ends by describing the death of Annabelle the Reformer and the succession of her son Robert, the current king, to the throne, and then has a brief epilogue.


    That I do know by heart, but I savour every word anyway. No history book can ever be complete, for history is always being written. It is left to future historians to fill in what remains of it. The remaining pages are devoted to this purpose. Perhaps some day a reader of this book may continue the story it tells.


    I want to be the reader who does that. When I first read it, I dreamed I would one day write and publish a new edition of the History, updating it for a new generation of readers. I haven¡¯t thought of it for a while, but if I¡¯m honest I still dream of that.


    There are two paragraphs written on the blank pages that follow the epilogue in my younger self¡¯s handwriting: King Robert was crowned on Esteral of 985 in the Abbey Royal, as kings were for centuries before him. He vowed that he would uphold his mother¡¯s legacy, that he would defend the country and its traditions until his last breath, and that he would be guided always by his faith in the stars above.


    That I wrote as soon as I finished the book for the first time and could find an old copy of the King¡¯s coronation vows to check, aged eleven. I added the second paragraph two years later:


    The first decade of King Robert¡¯s reign was a time of peace and prosperity. This was exemplified (I still remember searching through the dictionary to make sure I was spelling that right) by the marriage in 994 of his daughter and heir High Princess Alexandra to Tomas, third son of the Queen of Thalia, and the accompanying trade agreement between the two countries.


    I recognise now that it was more the marriage that accompanied the trade agreement, but twelve-year-old me loved the romance of a royal wedding more than anything and eagerly devoured any scrap of news about it.


    Soon, maybe, I¡¯ll add another paragraph describing the birth of a new heir.


    Would they let me keep the book with me in an asylum?


    No. No, I have avoided thinking about that ever since this began, and I¡¯m not going to start now.


    It doesn¡¯t matter. I¡¯m going to be found stable and be free to go, and that will be that.


    Four days. I miss my first homework deadline. It¡¯s only a short Spells assignment, but I¡¯m still angry with myself about it. I¡¯ll have the weekend to catch up; I¡¯ll need to do something then to distract myself, anyway.


    Edward brings the news that Lord Cavendish has been found guilty of all charges against him, and a lawyer. Her name is Tara, and she¡¯s just started her own firm. She¡¯s young to be doing that ¨C under thirty, definitely ¨C but she seems professional and competent to the point of negotiating with Electra over whether attorney-client confidentiality overrides Malaina confinement rules, citing an obscure case from a decade ago to prove her point.


    ¡°I suppose your precedent is valid,¡± Electra replies. ¡°But the argument is irrelevant, since Miss Roberts is not your client.¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s representing me ¨C ¡°


    Tara shakes her head, resigned. ¡°The definition of a client in law is one who makes a contract to exchange money for legal services. My contract is with Master Blackthorn, who has your verbal consent to make such a contract on your behalf. Sorry,¡± she adds, the transition from legalese to ordinary Rasin catching me off-guard. ¡°I tried.¡±


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I reply.


    So I talk to my new lawyer with both Electra and Edward present. He doesn¡¯t bother to cite legal precedent to justify staying, just says there¡¯s nothing to stop him.


    ¡°Except me,¡± says Electra, a dangerous note in her voice.


    Edward tilts his head to one side and considers that for a moment. ¡°Send me away, if you intend to,¡± he says.


    ¡°I do not, on this occasion. But you would do well to remember that I have that power.¡±


    ¡°I will not forget that,¡± Edward says.


    Nor will I.


    Tara is good at her job, I decide. I know just enough about law to recognise a good lawyer when I see one, and she certainly fits the description. She asks all the right questions and helps me work out how best to present my story. It¡¯s not lying, just framing the truth in the right way.


    My dad used to say that when I asked him about his work as a young child. Hearing it now makes me miss him.


    We tell the story of an innocent girl who finds herself drawn into politics she doesn¡¯t understand, torn between her budding friendship with Edward Blackthorn and her instinctive sympathy for a girl who could lose her father, eaten up with guilt over her own powerlessness, who eventually finds it just¡­ too much to bear.


    It¡¯s not her fault; she could never be dangerous, and she¡¯s devastated about even the possibility that she could have hurt someone. She swears she¡¯ll learn from her mistakes and never let it happen again.


    A true story, just one that happens to be missing several important details. Tara knows the real story; Edward told her, after swearing her to secrecy regardless of the fact we don¡¯t technically have attorney-client confidentiality and apparently having his dad run a background check on her.


    It¡¯s nice to talk honestly about everything with someone who¡¯s an adult and, well, not Electra or Lord Blackthorn. Tara has a calm but relentlessly positive perspective that I can¡¯t help being cheered by.


    ¡°What¡¯s her story?¡± I ask Edward after she leaves, mindful of Electra¡¯s growing impatience. It won¡¯t be long before I¡¯m alone again. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t someone young and ambitious like you said be in one of the big firms?¡±


    ¡°She was at Silvers. Then she resigned suddenly a few months back and set up her own firm instead.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t make her say, but there are¡­ certain rumours about a couple of the big names at Silvers. Have you heard them?¡±


    I nod grimly. I overheard a couple of the female lawyers at Greenwood and Sons discussing it during my internship there this summer. It didn¡¯t exactly make me more enthusiastic about becoming a lawyer.


    And yes, now I think of it: Tara is remarkably pretty. I can easily imagine her catching the eye of a man making absurd amounts of money, and saying no to such a man being likely to end her career at Silvers and make it hard for her to get a job with any of the other big firms.


    Yeah. I feel bad for Tara now. An idea occurs to me: I do know a small law firm that might be interested in recruiting someone disillusioned with the City¡­ it probably won¡¯t work well, though: Roberts and Bryant may not be ambitious enough for her, and they might not even be looking for a third partner.


    It can¡¯t hurt to try, though.


    After the hearing, that is.


    If I make it through the hearing.

 38. Counting Down the Days, Part Two

    Three days. I worked through just enough to understand today¡¯s practical work yesterday evening: fear, it turns out, is a powerful motivator. There is not a chance I¡¯m going into a lesson with Electra without knowing the spells I¡¯m supposed to be casting.


    It¡¯s a struggle just to drag myself out of bed, though. I¡¯ve been going to bed early, but I¡¯m still tired every morning. Why can¡¯t I just be awake and focused?


    Edward brings news of the first few days of campaigning for the winter elections, of speculation about what the High Princess might call her child ¨C ¡°There was an article looking into the historical significance of different names. I thought it might interest you ¨C ¡° and of more troops being sent to the border with Sirgal as a defensive precaution. He does not bring news of Lord Cavendish¡¯s sentence or of any arrangement between Mildred and his father.


    I appreciate the attempts to distract me, though. I skim through the article he gave me about possible names for a new prince or princess, but there¡¯s no interesting history there; it doesn¡¯t hold my attention.


    Instead I start reading A History of the Kings of Rasin again. It begins, as all histories do, with an account of the Mages and the miracle they performed to prevent a bitter war and birth the Kingdom of Rasin. There¡¯s little detail, but the historical sources all disagree on the details and a book like this isn¡¯t supposed to take sides on that dispute.


    I¡¯m almost more intrigued by the account of the end of the Mages¡¯ reign, because that is so rarely discussed. It¡¯s as if the accepted fact is that in one year the Mages ruled, and in the next Charles First-King had been chosen and crowned and the Mages simply disappeared. The History gives a brief account of the choosing of Charles, and then continues: And so the Mages left, for their work was done and the newborn Kingdom could stand alone. There is no confirmed record of what they did next, though for a century afterwards there were tales of powerful magicians who would fight monsters or evil men, heal wounds and illnesses thought uncurable and then disappear without accepting any payment.


    Some say they returned to the stars from whence they came. Some say they wandered across the lands and eventually sailed across the sea to faraway lands. Some say they simply grew old and died, though it is generally accepted that the Mages did not age in the same way as mortals. For how else could they have ruled for seventy years without ever showing their age as any mortal king would? But we may never know the truth, and that is the great wonder and tragedy of history: that it can never be complete.


    Magic as we know it can hide the visible signs of aging well enough, and with enough money to hire a specialist magical doctor can prolong life by perhaps a decade at the cost of becoming completely reliant on their services. Many such doctors have made a fortune helping the wealthy to cling to life, but casting magic on another human is one of the most difficult areas of magic to specialise in. There are less than twenty fully-certified magical doctors in the entire Kingdom.


    But holding off age indefinitely? Cheating death either by outrunning it or by snatching back a soul? Impossible. That ¨C apart from nearly a thousand years of the Temple¡¯s preaching ¨C is why the Mages are seen as more than human.


    So ends the prologue of the History.


    I dream that night. It¡¯s the fire again. This time my reading infiltrates my dreams, and I¡¯m burning down a palace in which every king of Rasin for the last thousand years sleeps, with not a flicker of regret. At least, I think, now I can say I¡¯ve killed Lucius the Usurper. I dedicate the blaze to every one of his victims. Including those who are also dying a second time in it.


    Then the statue of the Mages I¡¯m standing beside moves, and becomes the Mages themselves. They look mostly human except for the starlight glowing in their eyes. ¡°You know we can¡¯t let you do this,¡± they say as one, and with a wave of their hands the palace is whole again.


    I don¡¯t feel anything, but the magic within me is angry at that. I move in a furious flurry I¡¯d never be capable of, twisting and turning and casting deadly spells. The Mages could kill me in an instant if they wanted to, but they¡¯re holding back, and they pay for it. It only takes tiny mistakes for them to fall to my spells and lie screaming on the ground until they¡¯re burnt to ashes.


    I¡¯ve killed the Mages. There¡¯s no statue now. I should feel triumphant, or horrified, or something, but I don¡¯t.


    There¡¯s a dreadful groaning. I turn slowly to see the Abbey Royal swaying in an invisible wind. All the buildings around the Central Ring are doing it: back and forth, back and forth, until finally they collapse into a thousand stone blocks.


    Then there¡¯s just me, alone, surrounded by ruins. I realise what I¡¯ve done: the Mages are Rasin. By killing them, I¡¯ve killed my country.


    And I still don¡¯t care.


    That¡¯s the real terror of Malaina, I decide when I wake at two and fifteen, once I can free my mind from the horror enough to think. Not the death and destruction, but the way it makes you stop caring about what you do. It¡¯s all too easy to understand how, without that, you can become a monster.


    I¡¯m almost glad there are only two days left. I don¡¯t think I could stand any more of this dreadful not-knowing.


    It¡¯s the weekend, as well, which means two days of my pile of lessons and homework not getting any larger. If I work hard enough, I can probably catch up to where I should be.


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    I know the moment I drag myself out of bed that I won¡¯t be working hard enough.


    There¡¯s still no news.


    Edward begs Electra to let him stay with me for the entire afternoon, since she doesn¡¯t have classes to teach.


    ¡°How do you know I don¡¯t have a family to spend time with?¡± she asks.


    I would have laughed if I weren¡¯t in the state I am. The idea of Electra going home at the weekend to a loving husband and children eager to see her and tell her all about what they¡¯ve done this week is just utterly absurd.


    Edward is holding back laughter himself. ¡°Do you?¡± he asks.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Never felt the call of domestic bliss?¡±


    To my surprise, Electra is smiling as well. ¡°I doubt I would find it particularly blissful. Besides, the only man I¡¯d consider marrying isn¡¯t interested. So I suppose I have nothing better to do with my Saturday than to supervise you brats, as you thought.¡±


    I don¡¯t even mind being called a brat.


    Electra doesn¡¯t just lean against the wall as she usually does; she fetches some paperwork from her office and grades homework, occasionally letting out an undignified sigh or muttering something about stupidity. I wouldn¡¯t like to be one of the students who inspire those remarks.


    Edward works on simultaneous casting again. He can manage the General Animation Spell at the same time as a light-spell easily now, but he¡¯s struggling with more complex spells or those that are too similar. ¡°It¡¯s a mental limitation,¡± he says, ¡°not a magical one. I just need to learn to effectively split my focus.¡±


    ¡°I could help with that,¡± says Electra, ¡°if you like.¡±


    Yeah, that tone is definitely an ominous one, but Edward seems to be seriously considering it. I wish I were surprised by that.


    ¡°What would that involve?¡± he asks.


    ¡°You maintaining a spell while I attempt to¡­ distract you.¡±


    ¡°Interested, Tallulah?¡±


    I blink. ¡°I¡¯m not even multi-School.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t be useful. You never know when you¡¯ll need to cast effectively under pressure, or have to perform magic and mundane tasks simultaneously.¡±


    Yeah, I can¡¯t imagine ending up in a situation where I¡¯d need to be able to do that.


    Then again, a month ago I couldn¡¯t imagine being trapped in a room with Edward Blackthorn and a teacher who nearly stabbed me and feeling anything other than utterly terrified.


    I think it¡¯s the urge to prove that I¡¯m a capable magician, in the end, that makes me say ¡°I will if you will.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s do it, then,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°Do you still have those marbles of yours?¡± asks Electra.


    Edward reaches into his robes and pulls out a handful of them.


    ¡°I want you each to levitate one, keeping it as still as possible.¡±


    I fumble to catch the marble Edward tosses me, and cast a specialised levitation spell rather than the General Animation Spell. That will have the precision I need for this task. Hopefully.


    ¡°Find a space to stand, not too close to any obstructions or each other.¡±


    That does not sound reassuring. We obey.


    Electra waves a hand at a pile of scrap paper on the piece of floor she¡¯s turned into a makeshift desk and mutters an incantation. One by one, each sheet floats off the pile and folds itself into an intricate paper bird. ¡°Your goal,¡± she says, ¡°is to last for one minute without losing control of your marble or being hit by any of these birds. Begin.¡±


    And the birds soar across the room towards us.


    I dodge the first one by simply stepping to one side, but I don¡¯t see the second one coming until it¡¯s nearly too late. I throw myself to the ground, but the marble falls with me and hits the floor with a soft thud.


    I lasted all of three seconds. Edward lasts ten, but I get the sense Electra was going easy on me. The birds aimed at him fly faster and swerve in mid-air to respond to his movements.


    ¡°Again.¡±


    Neither of us does much better than the first time. This time my concentration breaks as I dodge the second bird, as before, but I keep my footing and frantically recast the levitation spell. At which point the third bird flies directly into my face.


    ¡°Perhaps it would help to see a demonstration of how it should be done?¡±


    Edward nods. He¡¯s still smiling despite his uncharacteristic failure. ¡°I can¡¯t levitate your entire flock, though. I can levitate up to ten objects at once but I struggle with precise control for more than five.¡±


    I stare at him for a second. ¡°I¡¯ve never even tried more than three, like we did in class.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± says Edward. ¡°Sometimes I forget you¡¯re a normal person.¡±


    I don¡¯t think anyone else could have said that and made it sound like a compliment.


    ¡°How many of these are there, anyway?¡±


    We gather up the birds from where they¡¯ve been scattered across the room ¨C the slow, mundane way. There are two dozen of them. I don¡¯t have a proper measure to compare that against, Edward being anything but a typical magician, but I get the sense it¡¯s a lot more than most could manage.


    Edward picks five birds and sets them in a row in front of him, then mutters an incantation. They take flight, hesitant at first but then flying in tight circles above his head. ¡°Okay,¡± he says. ¡°I can do this.¡±


    I take three birds of my own and animate them ¨C using the General Animation Spell this time, because I want to be able to do more than just levitate them. Even with fewer birds my control isn¡¯t as precise as Edward¡¯s ¨C I think he¡¯s casting using Siaril, which is a lot more suited to that than Malaina. Not for the first time, I¡¯m a little jealous of his being able to switch between Schools according to which better suits the task at hand.


    Or maybe he¡¯s just that much better than me.


    Edward hands Electra one of his marbles; she tips it out of her palm and casts quickly enough that it hangs in the air instead of falling.


    ¡°I¡¯m waiting,¡± she says simply.


    And we attack. It takes us a while to find the right approach ¨C I struggle to give different mental commands to the birds simultaneously, so I¡¯m mostly reduced to attacking one bird at a time, while Edward seems to have more success having two birds move symmetrically.


    None of it makes a shred of difference. Electra barely seems to be moving: she leans a little to the left, takes a step to the right, ducks down slightly, but never rushed or out of control. It¡¯s as if she knows where the birds will be before we do, even when we try looping around the room to attack from behind.


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯re not secretly multi-School?¡± asks Edward after about five minutes of this.


    ¡°Fairly,¡± replies Electra, lifting her leg to let a low-flying bird of mine pass underneath. ¡°There¡¯s no secret. No trick. Just natural talent combined with years of practice. You could be better than me if you devoted enough effort to it, I expect.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not just talking an hour a week, are you?¡± I ask.


    Electra shakes her head.


    And that¡¯s how the second-to-last day ends, with me realising that I haven¡¯t been worried or tired for the last few hours. I wonder if I could make that happen again tomorrow. I wonder why I didn¡¯t ask Electra to stay for tomorrow afternoon instead of this one.


    My sleep is thankfully dreamless, but the day seems to last an eternity. Tara pays another visit at lunchtime to reassure me that she¡¯s ready for the hearing and I will be just fine. Edward gives me his lack of news again. I try and fail to work, read through a century¡¯s worth of kings, go to bed straight after dinner and lie sleepless for five hours.


    I must have slept at some point, otherwise I wouldn¡¯t have woken on the morning of the hearing.

 39. Interlude: The Hearing

    The last two weeks had unquestionably been the worst of Mildred¡¯s life, and that included those after her mother first became ill. She¡¯d at least managed to keep it together in lessons, and crying in the endless newspaper interviews might actually have helped her cause, but appearances only counted for so much.


    Her life was broken, however well she could hide it.


    And she¡¯d never realised how much work went into running a household. The servants were well-trained, of course, but they still needed someone to sign off on the daily accounts and give reports of Mother¡¯s health to and tell them which meals to make. And there was no-one left but Mildred to do that now. Lucia was still only twelve, far too young to be troubled with all of this.


    Mildred was far too young to be troubled with all of this.


    She did what she could, though, trusting the servants where her own understanding was lacking. Mother had taken a sharp turn for the worse after hearing the news, and the doctors talked in ominous whispers about her.


    Mildred had the authority now to make them tell her everything, but she didn¡¯t have the strength. She wasn¡¯t ready for a new storm to hit before she had weathered this one. She didn¡¯t know if she could weather this one.


    Her father had never been as important at court as he liked to believe, and even if he had been all friendship was fickle there. No-one came to wish Mildred well or to offer her help, and none of the King¡¯s advisors replied to her pleading letters.


    That included Lord Blackthorn. Mildred had been prepared for a lot of responses when she made her desperate move: flat refusal of her offer to save his son¡¯s friend in exchange for her father, threats of consequences for her as well, an attempt to negotiate¡­ what she hadn¡¯t been prepared for was complete silence.


    That in itself was a negotiation tactic. She knew that, and she knew that making another entreaty would be an admission of her weakness, but still she longed to write to him.


    The verdict was guilty, as she¡¯d expected. Say what you liked about Lord Blackthorn, he knew how to put together a good case, and despite her father¡¯s lawyers¡¯ claims there was not a shred of evidence it was fake.


    And he was still silent. She was running out of time: Tallulah¡¯s hearing was on Monday, and the sentencing could happen whenever the King chose.


    He summoned her to the palace that Friday. As a convicted traitor her father had been stripped of all his titles and powers, and they now passed to her as his heir. Mildred had dreamed of becoming a noble in her own right for years, but not like this. Never like this. She would have sold any title and power to be plain Miss Cavendish, daughter of Lord Cavendish who would never do anything as foolish as commit treason ¨C and worse, be caught.


    She went nonetheless, because she couldn¡¯t wish the last weeks away. She knelt before the throne and begged for her father¡¯s life.


    The King didn¡¯t outright refuse her. If Mildred were in his position, she would have passed sentence there and then. Perhaps the fact he did not was a sign he was considering sparing her father. Perhaps she was grasping desperately at anything that looked remotely like hope.


    Mildred left the Round Palace a Lady of the Kingdom of Rasin and member of Parliament. She had no position on any committee, of course, and was expected to nominate a proxy until she had finished her studies and was ready to enter politics.


    Four different courtiers struck up conversation with her as she left, all hoping to be that proxy. So now that she had something they wanted, they wanted to talk, then? Mildred told them all the same thing: if they wanted her allegiance, they should save her father¡¯s life.


    Mildred was considering taking up her own seat, in truth. It was her only chance at the power she needed if she was ever going to make her family name mean something again, though it would likely come too late for her father. She would have to look into what accommodations the Academy could make for her; she was hardly the first young magician to play politics alongside her studies, after all.


    The sentence was not passed that day, and nor did she hear from Lord Blackthorn. She¡¯d heard he had no regard for such things as weekends, but the King did; it was likely no sentence would be passed until Monday.


    And that was when the hearing was.


    Tallulah wasn¡¯t a bad girl, really, other than her unfortunate choice of friends. She was smart enough to have an intelligent conversation with and refreshingly unpolitical, and certainly not unstable. Once Mildred had worked out how she thought, she was surprised it took that long and that much provocation for her to snap.


    She didn¡¯t want to have to condemn Tallulah to life in an asylum, if the hearing found her unstable.


    But having issued a threat, backing down from it would be condemning her father to death.


    If those were her options, the choice was an easy one.


    She barely slept that night; she spent her Saturday catching up on the homework she¡¯d missed ¨C the work was far below her usual standards but it shouldn¡¯t be too hard to persuade the teachers that she¡¯d had a rough week and it wouldn¡¯t happen again.


    With the exception of Electra, who was if anything going out of her way to make Mildred¡¯s time in her classes as miserable as possible. She was called on for the hardest questions that none of them could answer (except sometimes Edward Blackthorn, who sat back in his chair giving her the most infuriating smirks) and picked to help with Electra¡¯s demonstrations, which frequently involved being the target of mildly unpleasant spells.


    The sleep deprivation was starting to affect her by Sunday morning. Perhaps she should have taken a sleeping draught after all, but she¡¯d seen what they did to Mother; though they weren¡¯t the cause of her illness, they meant she was barely ever awake enough for conversation now.


    Mildred would manage, though; it wasn¡¯t like she had a choice. She visited her father that day, dressing in her finest clothes and stalking down the prison corridors as if filled with disdain for her surroundings. That wasn¡¯t too hard to fake.


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    Even when the guard withdrew to give them a few moments of privacy she didn¡¯t let herself crumple and become a girl again.


    ¡°Hey, darling,¡± he said, sounding exhausted. ¡°How are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m surviving,¡± said Mildred shortly. This could be the last conversation they ever had, and she wasn¡¯t going to waste it on meaningless small talk like so many other conversations. ¡°Why did you do it?¡±


    He shrugged. ¡°Money was good.¡±


    ¡°Money,¡± she said, letting a little of what felt like a bottomless well of anger and frustration seep into her tone. ¡°You betrayed your country for money.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a new treatment for wasting sickness,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯ve heard amazing things about it. They tried it on a dozen patients, and half of them were completely cured.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± was all Mildred could find to say. ¡°But the money¡­¡± She¡¯d seen the accounts, and she knew now that they weren¡¯t as rich as she¡¯d always thought; nearly their entire income was absorbed in the upkeep of the house and their savings were not substantial.


    ¡°A small fortune,¡± he told her. ¡°It was only a few little things, and we¡¯d have all we needed. It was never supposed to end like this. I¡¯m so sorry, Mildred.¡±


    Oh, stars, Mildred hated herself for every scornful thought. Her father wasn¡¯t foolish, he wasn¡¯t shallow, he never really wanted to betray his country. He was just trying to save Mother. ¡°No,¡± she whispered, all thoughts of dignity forgotten. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll still get the money,¡± he said. ¡°There was a clause in the agreement that said if¡­ well, if this happened, they¡¯d pay you the full amount, no conditions.¡±


    Maybe he was a fool after all. Because there was no way that Sirgal or whatever faction within it had employed her father would just hand a vulnerable girl the money she needed without asking anything in return. Because there was no way that a girl whose father had just committed treason for money could acquire a large sum of it without anyone noticing something was amiss.


    Because if she accepted that money, she would be complicit in his crime.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she said instead of any of that. ¡°I¡¯m glad that at least this won¡¯t be for nothing.¡±


    After news like that there was no chance of sleep. The question of what to do if her father¡¯s employers came calling circled her mind for hours. She couldn¡¯t accept without raising suspicion, and nor would she commit treason of her own. But the thought of just handing the information over to the authorities that had convicted her father and would likely condemn him was horrifying. Could she bargain with them, telling them everything she knew about her father¡¯s contacts in exchange for the money Mother needed?


    Or could she just refuse to have contact with them and find the money some other way? There must be opportunities in Parliament to make money. Maybe she could even sell her proxy; some nobles wouldn¡¯t blink at that price for a seat in Parliament.


    Stars, was there any way she could save both of her parents?


    Mildred hired a messenger the next morning, and instructed him to wait outside the Round Palace and to find her at the West Road Courthouse instantly if there was news of her father¡¯s sentence, even if the hearing was in progress. He demanded an extra fee in exchange for that. After the previous day¡¯s revelations she winced at the cost, but it was worth every copper if it would let her make the right decision today.


    She rode to the hearing in her family¡¯s carriage. That was no additional expense, since the coachman¡¯s wages and the horse¡¯s upkeep had to be paid regardless of whether she used them. But perhaps if she gave up the carriage and hired one when necessary, it would save silver. It would only be another year or so before she learnt to teleport, anyway.


    She stepped gracefully down from the carriage, taking the coachman¡¯s offered arm. It was only a couple of steps up into the courthouse, but she was intercepted by a messenger before she reached the door.


    ¡°Lady Cavendish?¡± he asked, pronouncing it in the strange way the City¡¯s commoners spoke.


    ¡°That is I,¡± she replied coldly.


    ¡°I have a message for you from Lord Blackthorn.¡± He held out a small envelope sealed with the raven crest of that lord¡¯s family.


    It was all Mildred could do to keep her composure and not snatch it out of his hand. She extended her own imperiously instead and waited for him to hand it over. He did as expected, but then stayed and waited.


    Of course, Mildred thought, and fished in her pocket for a silver coin. It should have been obvious what he was waiting for.


    There was no privacy to be had in the courthouse, and she didn¡¯t trust her self-control enough to open it in public, so she resorted to locking herself in its bathroom to open the envelope.


    I have the power to fulfil your side of the bargain you propose and am prepared to do so. But if Tallulah does not walk free today, your father will die.


    Despite herself, she laughed bitterly. How did he manage to make it seem as if he was the blackmailer in their relationship, such as it was?


    She knew what she had to do. She folded the letter away in her robes and stalked into the courthouse. She was five minutes early, but the courtroom itself was mostly full, only the judge¡¯s bench unoccupied. Tallulah sat opposite her in the defendant¡¯s box. It was the first time they¡¯d met since that day in the library. Mildred didn¡¯t meet her eyes.


    The row at the back reserved for witnesses was half-full, with five seated there. Lord Blackthorn was thankfully absent, but both Edward and his cousin were present, and of course Electra in her role as the Academy¡¯s Malaina expert. There was also a short red-headed man in a doctor¡¯s coat. The surprise, though, was Elsie.


    Mildred knew this had been hard on her friend, since she also got on well with Tallulah. Refusing her pleading had made her feel cold and cruel. Heartless. Like Lord Blackthorn. But she hadn¡¯t known Elsie would be here.


    Did she know something? Was this a trap that would inevitably lead to the revelation of what she had done? She hadn¡¯t broken any laws - the worst she could be charged with was a minor violation of hyperspace safety regulations - but it wouldn¡¯t do her tattered reputation any favours.


    ¡°Ready?¡± asked her lawyer.


    ¡°Oh ¨C yes,¡± said Mildred, recovering a little of her composure.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he told her. ¡°We¡¯ll make sure no-one else gets hurt.¡±


    She¡¯d almost forgotten the story she¡¯d sold him of her terror of the Malaina girl. In her defence it had been quite the few days. ¡°I¡¯m glad to hear it,¡± she said. Though he wasn¡¯t going to like what she did next.


    Mildred passed the couple of minutes of waiting by watching the clock tick by. Finally a herald threw open the doors and proclaimed ¡°All rise for the Honourable Justice Martina Carson!¡±


    They rose. Martina Carson must have been at least seventy, but she was still spry and energetic if the speed at which she marched across the room was anything to judge by. ¡°Be seated,¡± she announced, obeying her own order. ¡°This court is now in session on the matter of the report brought against Tallulah Roberts by Mildred, Lady Cavendish, under the Malaina Stability Law.¡±


    The hearing began with the formalities. ¡°You are Tallulah Alice Roberts, of the city of Crelt?¡± asked the court clerk.


    ¡°I am,¡± replied Tallulah. She spoke softly; she was clearly nervous. No wonder.


    ¡°Do you understand the case that has been brought against you?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°Are you satisfied with your legal representation?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    The clerk nodded, satisfied, and turned to Mildred.


    ¡°You are Mildred, Lady Cavendish of the Kingdom of Rasin?¡±


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Do you stand by the report that you have made under the Malaina Stability Law?¡±


    ¡°I do not.¡±


    The silence that followed those words was deafening.


    ¡°You¡­ do not,¡± repeated the clerk. He¡¯d clearly been expecting these questions to be the usual formalities to be got out of the way in a few minutes before the hearing proper began.


    ¡°That is correct. I do not.¡±


    ¡°Am I to take it that you are withdrawing that report?¡± asked the judge, clearly not happy with this.


    ¡°That is what I am doing.¡±


    ¡°You understand that you will be liable for a fine for wasting court time, and that Miss Roberts will then be entitled to sue for compensation?¡±


    Mildred did know that. It was going to be a lot of money, money she really needed for the new treatment. But it was worth it for a chance of saving her father. ¡°I do.¡±


    The judge sighed. ¡°Then there is no case to be answered. This court is no longer in session.¡±


    And that was that.

 40. Freedom

    And that¡¯s that.


    It¡¯s over. I¡¯m free.


    I¡¯m almost shaking with relief. I don¡¯t quite believe it.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Tara, smiling, ¡°that must be the easiest case I¡¯ve ever won. I guess I shouldn¡¯t ask what happened?¡±


    I shake my head, mostly because I don¡¯t fully know myself. Then I remember my idea, and ask: ¡°Can you do me a favour?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what that favour is.¡±


    ¡°My dad,¡± I say. ¡°He¡¯s a lawyer, too. Roberts and Bryant. Silver Street, in Crelt. Could you take a message to him?¡±


    That¡¯s the closest I can get to subtle, but I don¡¯t feel it¡¯s my place to give Tara career advice. Besides, I do want to send this message quickly, and if I directed someone to home then there¡¯s a chance my mother could find out.


    ¡°Of course,¡± Tara says. ¡°What is the message?¡±


    ¡°Tell him¡­ tell him I¡¯m okay. That everything¡¯s fine. That I miss him, and I¡¯ll see him for Holy Days.¡±


    Tara repeats the message back to me, then asks ¡°So, about this compensation suit you¡¯re entitled to make¡­¡±


    I don¡¯t really like the idea, to be honest; I just want to forget any of this happened and move on with my life. Besides, if Mildred did make a deal with Lord Blackthorn, its terms might prevent me from suing. Most contracts tend to include clauses like that. I¡¯m not certain, though, so I reply ¡°I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll be doing that. But if I do, I¡¯ll hire you.¡±


    ¡°Or get your friend to hire me? I¡¯ll work for a percentage of the settlement if you¡¯d rather not further indebt yourself to him.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, and stand shakily.


    I make it out of the defendant¡¯s box and onto the courtroom floor before Edward intercepts me. He doesn¡¯t speak, just wraps his arms around me. I¡¯m startled for a moment, but then I hug him back. I can feel myself smiling more than I have in two weeks.


    Much as I want to just stand here hugging him, or to escape the courthouse and properly talk without Electra overhearing everything we say, there are other people I need to talk to. I gently tug myself free and walk over to the witnesses¡¯ bench.


    ¡°Hi, Elsie,¡± I say when I¡¯m close enough to talk to her without shouting. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to come.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m glad this is what happened. And sorry for not visiting a second time ¨C it took me a long time to¡­ to figure things out. But once I did, I knew I had to be here. To testify for you, if I had to. But thank the stars Mildred finally saw sense too.¡±


    I keep my face carefully blank. I don¡¯t think seeing sense has anything to do with it. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Really. It means a lot that you believed ¨C in the end ¨C that I wasn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Unstable,¡± says Elsie.


    I nod.


    ¡°I was wondering,¡± she asks, a little nervous, ¡°whether you want to have a snack together this weekend.¡±


    ¡°That sounds lovely,¡± I say. It really does.


    One more conversation, then. Edward is chatting to his cousin about some complex and obscure piece of magical theory, from what I can make out. Some things never change.


    I consider just leaving, but I need to do this first. Then I can put all of this behind me for good. ¡°Electra.¡±


    She¡¯s wearing her usual dangerous smile. Am I imagining it, or does she look pleased by this turn of events? ¡°Miss Roberts.¡±


    ¡°I wanted to thank you.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°For everything you¡¯ve done for me, the last two weeks. I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d have survived them without you.¡±


    What little of the guidelines concerning Malaina isolation I¡¯ve read aren¡¯t that prescriptive. Much of how it¡¯s managed is left to the judgement of the suitably qualified person. And I had regular meals, company while I ate, the ability to keep up with all my work. She never once threatened to take any of that away or tried to exploit her power over me.


    Pretty low standards, maybe, but from Electra it¡¯s practically miraculous.


    ¡°Yes, well,¡± she says. Is she uncomfortable? ¡°Don¡¯t go thinking this will get you any special treatment. I expect your work to return to your usual standards and to be submitted on time. And speaking of time ¨C your next class begins at eleven-thirty. You three ¨C four, with Miss Cavendish ¨C had better hurry.¡±


    She stands and stalks past us without another word.


    The hearing was scheduled for eleven, so it must be a few minutes after that now. ¡°How far are we from the Academy?¡± I don¡¯t know how long the carriage ride took; I didn¡¯t want to know at the time.


    ¡°It took me forty minutes to walk here,¡± says Elsie. ¡°And we have Spells ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Felicity has been awful about this whole thing,¡± Edward explains, ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past her to give us detention if we¡¯re late.¡±


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    ¡°Especially if Electra speaks to her,¡± Elsie adds. ¡°So we¡¯re screwed.¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily,¡± says Edward. ¡°I know a few shortcuts that can shave ten minutes off that. As for the rest¡­ how do you feel about running?¡±


    I feel quite good about running, actually. I feel as if I could run to the end of the world. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Twenty minutes later, I¡¯m feeling a lot less good about running. Not that we¡¯ve run most of the way; neither Elsie nor I managed more than five minutes before having to give up and walk, and we¡¯ve been half-walking, half-jogging ever since.


    Edward, on the other hand, looks as if he could have kept up the pace we started at the whole way.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair,¡± says Elsie between gasping breaths as we slow to a walk again.


    ¡°What isn¡¯t?¡± I reply, not much better off myself. I think longingly of the glass of water in the defendant¡¯s box that I was too nervous to drink.


    She gestures to Edward. ¡°Isn¡¯t it enough for him to be a fabulously rich magical prodigy without also being fit?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s called training,¡± Edward says, not even breathing heavily. ¡°Now less talking and more running. We¡¯re nearly there, but we only have five more minutes.¡±


    For a moment I want to ask how his time judgement is that precise, but then I realise we¡¯ve just passed the City Hall, which has a clock on its roof that¡¯s visible from down here. I groan and break into a slow and painful jog.


    It takes us three minutes to reach the Central Ring and persuade Miss Carr to let us into the Academy quickly. Well, Edward does that bit while Elsie and I try to catch our breath. Then I remember: the Spells classroom is on the third floor. We have to climb three flights of stairs to get there.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you just magic us up there?¡± asks Elsie as we jog towards the bottom of the staircase.


    ¡°I can¡¯t teleport and I don¡¯t want to risk casting on another human. We¡¯re stuck with the slow way, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯d rather just have detention.¡±


    I¡¯m pretty close to agreeing with her, but I keep going anyway. Giving up now means all the effort spent getting this far was wasted. My legs are screaming at me. I just want to collapse against the nearest wall.


    Then we reach the third floor and sprint along the corridor to the classroom. Edward flings open the door with a spell to save time fumbling with the handle, because of course he still has the energy to cast. We stumble through the room to our seats.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve decided to grace us with your presence after all,¡± says Felicity. ¡°You are precisely on time.¡±


    I collapse into my chair, and that¡¯s when I realise I don¡¯t have my satchel. No textbooks to consult, nothing to take notes with or on. I¡¯m still a Spells lesson behind as well. Not the best way to resume my education.


    Mildred sits in her usual seat, looking insultingly calm and unruffled. Doesn¡¯t she have a private carriage now? That would have been much more efficient than running ¨C though right now I wouldn¡¯t even consider asking her for a ride.


    Today¡¯s lesson turns out to be the start of our new topic of illusions, and Edward promises to take detailed notes for me so I don¡¯t fall further behind. They¡¯ll probably be better quality than mine, since he has a habit of making sarcastic little notes about where Felicity is oversimplifying or not going into the theoretical reasoning for her instructions anyway.


    Once we start the practical section of the class it takes me a good five minutes before I can cast anything. I¡¯m giddy and exhausted, and the calm I need to draw on magic feels a long way away. And since I¡¯ve never been much of an artist, all I can create is a simple blue rectangle hanging in the air.


    ¡°That¡¯s good progress, Tallulah,¡± says Felicity, wandering over to our desk. She manages to make that sound like an insult. At least she remembers my name now, I suppose. ¡°Edward, I haven¡¯t seen you cast an illusion yet. Are you struggling?¡±


    I bite my lip to hold back laughter.


    ¡°No,¡± replies Edward flatly, ¡°I will show you.¡± His words have the ring of an incantation, and indeed as he presses his hands together and then pulls them apart a perfect image of the Blackthorn family crest, the raven and tree in silhouette on a silver shield, appears from nothing.


    ¡°Those weren¡¯t the correct gestures, Edward, you¡¯re supposed to do this ¨C ¡° Felicity demonstrates how her fingers interlock as she holds her palms to each other, unlike his.


    ¡°Well, evidently my way works just as well,¡± Edward replies.


    ¡°But that¡¯s not how you¡¯re supposed to do it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the way it¡¯s described in Advanced Illusion-Crafting ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Is that a required textbook for this class?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s widely recognised as the best description of practical illusion work, and I prefer to learn from the best.¡±


    I¡¯ve recovered just enough energy to recognise what Edward is implying there. ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I whisper to him. ¡°It¡¯s not worth it.¡±


    ¡°Oh, really? Is my humble class simply not good enough for Master Blackthorn?¡±


    I hope desperately that he has enough tact to not give the blunt, honest answer I know he¡¯s thinking. What he says is better, though not by much: ¡°I cannot answer without giving insult, which I do not wish to do.¡±


    But he has given insult, even if he hasn¡¯t stated it directly.


    ¡°Tell me, then, about the three categories of illusion.¡±


    ¡°Image, Veil and Mask,¡± Edward says without hesitation. Most of the class are watching him instead of focusing on their work now, eager to see how this confrontation unfolds. I am very much not. I just want one relatively normal lesson. Is that really too much to ask?


    ¡°Image is what we have been working on today; it refers to creating the illusion of an object where no such object exists. Veil is its opposite, creating the illusion that no object exists when in fact one does.¡± Such as the veil he cast on the ladder when he climbed up to my window. Though it¡¯s probably best he doesn¡¯t give that particular example. ¡°And Mask refers to making an object that does exist appear to be something it is not. Would you like the general matrix classification of each?¡±


    I don¡¯t even know what a general matrix classification is; something that¡¯s taught in Advanced Magical Theory, or possibly in one of the many books Edward has read.


    ¡°I¡­ hardly think that is necessary,¡± Felicity says. ¡°So you¡¯ve read a book about illusions. I hope you don¡¯t think that is sufficient to give you mastery of them.¡±


    ¡°No magician is master of a spell they cannot cast,¡± Edward agrees with a rhythm that suggests he¡¯s quoting something. ¡°I believe this ¨C ¡° he gestures to the Blackthorn family crest still shimmering in the air ¨C ¡°suffices to show I have a basic understanding of Image. As for Veil ¨C ¡° he stands, holding up a page of the notes he¡¯s taken. ¡°Let that which is seen be hidden.¡±


    The paper shimmers and then disappears. Well, it doesn¡¯t truly disappear: if I look at the space where it was there¡¯s something subtly wrong about the empty air, which seems to have the texture of parchment even though air should have no texture.


    ¡°Is that adequate?¡± Edward asks.


    Someone at the back of the classroom applauds; I think it¡¯s Daniel.


    ¡°For a magician of your limited experience? I suppose it is. But you surely do not believe you have nothing to learn?¡±


    It¡¯s better than adequate. Veils are famously tricky magic, and certainly not magic we have been taught. If Edward isn¡¯t careful he might give away the extra-curricular practice he¡¯s been doing. Actually, it¡¯s a little late for that.


    ¡°The beauty of magic is that there is always more to learn.¡± He¡¯s quoting again. I wonder whose words those originally were. ¡°But please, do not suggest that I struggle with basic casting again.¡±


    I¡¯m honestly surprised that he¡¯s taking this approach: I¡¯ve heard enough of his rants about Felicity¡¯s classes to know that he could verbally tear her teaching to shreds if he wanted, but he¡¯s not trying to provoke that confrontation.


    I think Felicity senses that Edward would be more than capable of doing something impressive with Mask as well, and that this confrontation is unlikely to go her way, so she takes the chance to end it. ¡°If you continue to give me no reason to suspect that, then so I shall. Now that I have your attention, everyone, I would like to discuss refinements to the casting technique¡­¡±

 41. Unlikely Friendships

    My dorm-mates decide we should have lunch together to celebrate my return, with much joking about more competition for the bathroom and the like. It¡¯s nice of them, but it¡¯s not what I really want to do.


    They¡¯re all surprisingly supportive, though, given the recent gossip; I¡¯d expected at least one of them to be convinced that I¡¯m unstable. That not being the case will make living with them a lot easier. I feel a stab of guilt at how little of an effort I¡¯ve made to get to know them or spend time with them. But I have the chance to change that now, don¡¯t I?


    So I stay and talk with them throughout the lunch break, even though I just want to be alone with Edward. We don¡¯t discuss the hearing much, but there¡¯s plenty of talk about Edward¡¯s knowledge of illusions.


    ¡°I¡¯m just glad someone finally stood up to Felicity,¡± says Hannah. ¡°Stars, I hate that woman. Barely knows the basics of her own subject.¡±


    ¡°Oh, absolutely. Did you know he was so good at illusions?¡± asks Lucy.


    I shrug. ¡°He¡¯s a Blackthorn. Illusions aren¡¯t even his specialism.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡± Hannah asks.


    ¡°He wants to be an enchanter,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s very suited to Siaril casting and solidly grounded in theory.¡± And if Lord Blackthorn could be said to have a specialism, I add silently, it¡¯s enchantment.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he¡¯s so smart,¡± says Robin eagerly.


    If this is what it¡¯s typically like, I¡¯m beginning to understand why Edward doesn¡¯t spend much time with most of our classmates. ¡°Like I said. He¡¯s a Blackthorn. There¡¯s nothing surprising about it with his upbringing.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind Robin,¡± Lucy says, ¡°she¡¯s got it into her head that Edward is kind of cute.¡±


    ¡°I do not have a crush on Edward Blackthorn,¡± Robin insists, but her cheeks turn a faint scarlet. ¡°Anyway, aren¡¯t you and him, uh¡­¡±


    Edward. Cute. I guess I can sort of see it, but it¡¯s the last word I¡¯d use to describe him. I¡¯m so busy processing that it takes me a while to register the second thing Robin said. ¡°We¡¯re not dating,¡± I say quickly.


    ¡°Oh? Could have fooled me,¡± Hannah laughs. ¡°The way he was when you were isolated. It was like he was a completely different person.¡±


    I want to ask what she means, but then I realise she¡¯s fishing for exactly that response and giving it will only fuel the theory that we¡¯re a couple.


    ¡°Or do you not like him back?¡± guesses Lucy.


    ¡°Honestly, you pair of gossips.¡± Aisha rolls her eyes. ¡°Tallulah, don¡¯t feel you have to tell us anything you don¡¯t want to.¡±


    ¡°Thanks, Aisha. But it¡¯s fine. There¡¯s nothing to tell. We¡¯re friends, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± Hannah drawls. Yeah, she doesn¡¯t believe me.


    ¡°Wait, so he¡¯s single?¡± asks Robin. ¡°Not that it makes any difference to me, of course.¡±


    No, this is worse. Because he¡¯s definitely not going to be interested in Robin, but I doubt he wants me to tell everyone why. Maybe I should pretend we¡¯re dating; that would be a lot easier. ¡°I¡­ guess so, yeah. He hasn¡¯t told me about a girlfriend, anyway.¡±


    ¡°We should ask him to join us,¡± says Hannah. I don¡¯t know if she¡¯s serious or if she just wants to watch Robin squirm. ¡°Where is he, anyway?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Not here.¡± He was just ahead of us in the queue for food, but then vanished as we were searching for a table. ¡°And I¡¯d rather not gossip about him behind his back.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± says Aisha. ¡°Where are you with classwork? My notes are decent if you want to borrow them.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s okay. Thank you. I need to make up two weeks¡¯ practical work for Alchemy and Astronomy, but other than that I¡¯m only a couple of days behind. Electra helped me keep up in isolation.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± says Lucy, ¡°I think I¡¯ve developed a hearing problem. You didn¡¯t actually just say Electra helped you?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°She did. Don¡¯t tell her I said this, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s quite as bad as she makes us think.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Robin says. ¡°If she was they¡¯d never let her teach.¡±


    ¡°But that doesn¡¯t make any sense! Why would someone pretend to be, well¡­¡± Hannah pauses, searching for the right word.


    ¡°Evil?¡± Lucy suggests.


    I don¡¯t know why either. I¡¯m curious, but not to the extent I¡¯d dare ask Electra about herself.


    We set off for the afternoon¡¯s lessons in good cheer. Alchemy is first, so I get to schedule catching up with the majority of missed practical work. That¡¯s an hour an evening for the rest of the week gone, since Mary assumes I won''t want to work on the weekend. I would have preferred doing it all at once at the weekend, honestly.


    The final lesson of the day is Magical Law and Culture, which makes me realise just how much I¡¯ve missed being in a classroom with a good teacher and an interesting topic to discuss. Today it¡¯s how magic can cause inequality in society and whether magicians have a duty to stand against that.


    Given who we have in our class it was always going to be a tricky one, especially when Edward, Mildred and I are dancing around each other.


    Edward argues that magicians have a duty to make the Kingdom a better place for all of its subjects by creating new technologies and passing progressive laws. As a historian I feel obliged to challenge him on the idea that magicians should possess too much political power, which he accepts in good grace.


    Things get more controversial with the debate on whether magic causes inequality in the first place. Mildred takes the stance that it doesn¡¯t, because anyone can be a magician ¨C in fact that means magic acts against inequality.


    Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°Sure,¡± says Hannah. ¡°Siaril is almost entirely inherited by a few wealthy families, and don¡¯t try to pretend just anyone can afford the Arsinth ritual. That¡¯s two out of five Schools that are restricted to the wealthy and privileged.¡±


    ¡°I read somewhere that Malaina is more likely to occur in the poor, though,¡± Elsie puts in.


    Instant tension. Elsie didn¡¯t mean anything by it, but with the students in this class and this morning¡¯s hearing there¡¯s no way to mention Malaina without tension.


    ¡°That¡¯s not really the same thing, is it, though?¡± says Jake.


    ¡°Jake,¡± says Daniel, placing a hand on his friend¡¯s shoulder, ¡°shut up.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t tell anyone to shut up in this class,¡± Sam says quickly.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Keep talking,¡± Edward says, an edge to his voice. ¡°I want to hear this.¡±


    I don¡¯t. If it hadn¡¯t been for Sam¡¯s interjection just now I might have told Edward to shut up.


    ¡°Well, Malaina isn¡¯t like the other Schools, is it?¡±


    ¡°There it is. That¡¯s what you really think. Tell me why, then.¡±


    Edward is trying to defend me, I realise. An attack on Malaina, in his mind, is an attack on both of us, and it needs to be shut down. Conversation and conflict, though, aren¡¯t the same thing. A good strategy for the latter can be a disaster for the former.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious?¡± Jake asks, not seeing the danger. ¡°They¡¯re ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Okay, that will do,¡± Sam says, jumping to his feet and holding up his hands for silence. ¡°Don¡¯t mistake me ¨C Malaina is an important topic that needs to be talked about, and we will discuss it in class. But today is not that day, particularly after recent events for some of your classmates. If we could return to what is the topic of today¡¯s discussion¡­ Aisha, what do you think? What impact can magic have on inequality?¡±


    I eat dinner with Elsie and Elizabeth. The latter reminds me of the conversation we had that first day of isolation. ¡°I told you you¡¯d make it through this,¡± she says. ¡°Now you know, too. We¡¯re survivors. We¡¯ll make it through whatever life and magic throw at us.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if I quite believe her, but I know I want to.


    Elsie has less cheerful news: apparently Mildred didn¡¯t take too well to her going to the hearing intending to speak in my defence. ¡°She said I betrayed her. But I didn¡¯t. I didn¡¯t want to. I was just trying to do the right thing, to help my friend.¡±


    ¡°So was I,¡± I say without thinking. ¡°Mildred can be¡­¡± There is no right word. ¡°She knows how to take people apart with just words. Even when they don¡¯t deserve it.¡± I hesitate. ¡°Especially when they don¡¯t deserve it.¡±


    Elsie doesn¡¯t look altogether comfortable with that. I didn¡¯t expect her to be.


    ¡°And if she doesn¡¯t want to be your friend any more,¡± Elizabeth adds, ¡°then you have new friends right here.¡±


    ¡°Absolutely,¡± I agree. The three of us, friends. We make an unlikely trio, but I¡¯m starting to think the best friendships are the most unlikely ones. After all, Edward Blackthorn is the unlikeliest friend I could have imagined and by far the best I¡¯ve ever had.


    I finally talk to him after we¡¯ve eaten. We return to the meeting room we¡¯ve used before. It¡¯s probably larger than the one I¡¯ve lived in for two weeks.


    ¡°So,¡± I say, deciding to start with the lighter topics. ¡°I thought you should know Robin has a crush on you.¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s ¨C oh! Robin Wilde. Siaril, our age, reddish-brown hair?¡±


    ¡°Yes. She¡¯s one of my dorm-mates. How do you know her?¡±


    ¡°Siaril,¡± he repeats. ¡°The Wildes are one of the old families, though she¡¯s not on the best of terms with them. She¡¯s nice enough.¡±


    ¡°Not your type, though?¡±


    He laughs. ¡°No. You didn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tell anyone? I might not be a Blackthorn, but that doesn¡¯t mean I can¡¯t keep secrets.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± He pauses, shifting his feet awkwardly beneath him. ¡°How are you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± I laugh. ¡°No, I¡¯m better than fine. You don¡¯t realise how important little things are until they¡¯re taken away. And there is no sweeter feeling than getting them back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m happy for you, then.¡±


    ¡°Do you know ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What my dad did in the end? No. He never told me anything.¡±


    I can see the pain in his eyes. This incident has made a rift between Edward and his father that may take a long time to heal.


    Selfishly, I¡¯m a little glad of that, because it means I¡¯m less likely to have to see Lord Blackthorn again.


    ¡°Do you want to talk about the signature?¡±


    I nod. ¡°You understood what I was trying to tell you? I didn¡¯t want to say it in front of Electra ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Of course. It wasn¡¯t a malfunction, was it? Most magical measurement devices are pretty reliable.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think it was,¡± I say slowly, trying to recall the examination in as much detail as possible. ¡°There was something unusual about me, that was giving the device strange readings. And then Electra¡­ she didn¡¯t want the doctor to know that. She didn¡¯t want me to know that.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C you think she caused the explosion? That¡¯s¡­ plausible, yes. How much do you know about magical signatures, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Basically nothing. But I¡¯m sure you can tell me more.¡±


    Edward nods and begins to explain. He talks like a textbook sometimes. Each magician has a unique magical signature, he explains; from it you can tell which School they belong to and which areas of magic they have aptitude for. In the case of Malaina you can also recognise whether they¡¯re close to an episode or whether they¡¯re mala sia.


    Sensitives can see all this information just by looking at a magician, but the rest of us have to settle for enchanted devices like the one Doctor Wandsworth used. But while they don¡¯t typically explode in use, it¡¯s very difficult to interpret the readings they give to get anything other than the magician¡¯s School and how unstable they are if Malaina, so they¡¯re not widely used outside Malaina research.


    ¡°I could probably source one if you wanted,¡± he says, ¡°but I¡¯d have to go through my dad. And¡­¡±


    He leaves the question unspoken, but we both know what it is: do you really want Lord Blackthorn knowing about anomalies in your magic if you have them? And I know what my answer is. ¡°I¡¯d¡­ prefer it if you didn¡¯t do that.¡±


    ¡°Anyway, it¡¯s probably best that we get answers directly from a sensitive.¡±


    ¡°Which is a problem,¡± I add, ¡°because it¡¯s not as if I want to march into the palace and demand audience with the King to tell me what¡¯s wrong with my magic ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Why are you assuming there¡¯s something wrong?¡± Edward asks.


    Oh. I have been assuming that, haven¡¯t I? ¡°I just thought¡­¡± I begin, not knowing how to finish.


    The truth is that I think it¡¯s because I shouldn¡¯t really be Malaina. I haven¡¯t survived trauma. I¡¯m not a survivor like Elizabeth said I was, I¡¯m just a lost and confused girl who couldn¡¯t even cope with school.


    That¡¯s the one secret I haven¡¯t told Edward.


    I don¡¯t want to tell him.


    ¡°Never mind. I don¡¯t know anything about what it could be.¡±


    He knows me well enough to realise there¡¯s more to it than that, but he doesn¡¯t press me. ¡°Yes, I wouldn¡¯t recommend going to the King, and it¡¯s not as if there¡¯s a whole array of other sensitives to choose from¡­ I suppose there¡¯s my mother, but¡­¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°Your mother is a sensitive? I¡¯m sorry ¨C I just realised I don¡¯t even know who she is ¨C ¡°


    Edward shrugs. ¡°She¡¯s a sensitive, yes. Her name¡¯s Sylvia Froment. I haven¡¯t seen her in a decade.¡±


    I don¡¯t ask why, I just wait for him to explain more.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember her that well,¡± he says. ¡°Her father was a minor Sirgalese lord. She was¡­ very much not like my father. She used to throw grand parties, and he¡¯d never even show up to them. But she loved me, she always had time for me.¡±


    ¡°What went wrong?¡±


    ¡°She was cheating on my father with our butler.¡± Edward shrugs. He doesn¡¯t seem as emotional as you¡¯d expect about that; it¡¯s as if he¡¯s reciting distant history rather than that of his own parents. ¡°I can¡¯t blame her, honestly. He¡¯s always been married to his work.¡±


    I agree with that assessment; I can¡¯t imagine Lord Blackthorn ever being a particularly good husband.


    ¡°I can blame her for getting caught, though. The papers found out, and then he had to divorce her. He¡¯s a Lord of the Kingdom and I¡¯m his heir. She was never going to even get to see me unless he let her.¡±


    ¡°And he didn¡¯t,¡± I breathe, adding another reason to my growing mental list of why I should hate Lord Blackthorn.


    ¡°No,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Not even letters?¡±


    ¡°I never got any from her. I wrote a few times in the first year or so, but I don¡¯t know if they ever got sent. I haven¡¯t tried that hard to find her. She went back to Sirgal, so I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    ¡°Do you miss her?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I did at first. Then I adapted. I don¡¯t any more.¡±


    ¡°You should try and find her,¡± I say without thinking.


    ¡°And get her to look at your signature?¡±


    ¡°No ¨C well, maybe, but no. She¡¯s your mother, Edward, and you should have a mother.¡±


    He just shrugs again.

 42. Sentence

    My newfound joy lasts through the practical Alchemy lesson that takes up the rest of the evening, through wishing my dorm-mates goodnight and realising how much more comfortable my bed here is than the one I¡¯ve slept in the last two weeks. I wake early the next morning, still smiling, and study a little before breakfast.


    Then I get my usual portion of porridge and settle down to eat with Edward. And that¡¯s when it ends.


    Edward wordlessly hands me the newspaper and gestures to its headline: CAVENDISH SENTENCED TO DEATH.


    I stare numbly at it. It¡¯s as if I¡¯ve been punched in the face.


    It¡¯s not that I particularly care about him. It¡¯s not that I would have tried any more to save him after what Mildred did to me. It¡¯s not even the lingering sense of failure.


    It¡¯s the knowledge that Lord Blackthorn bargained with a desperate girl for her father¡¯s life, and then as soon as he had what he wanted he threw all of that away.


    ¡°It might not be his fault,¡± Edward says. ¡°Mildred might have decided to drop the charges on her own. Or he might have just failed to persuade the King.¡±


    ¡°Do you really believe that?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer me. He doesn¡¯t have to.


    ¡°Have¡­ have you seen Mildred this morning?¡± Despite everything, I can¡¯t help feeling sorry for her now. I know what this must have done to her.


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°I don¡¯t want to.¡±


    Nor do I.


    In fact I don¡¯t see her at all that morning. That¡¯s at least partly because I spend the free period that begins the day in a study room catching up with Magical Theory. But it also turns out she¡¯s switched to the other class, the one that¡¯s set up to work around students¡¯ other commitments.


    She¡¯s now a Member of Parliament, having inherited her father¡¯s title, and can¡¯t exactly arrange Parliamentary debates around her studies. It¡¯s a strange feeling, knowing a desperate, ruthless sixteen-year-old is now part of the body that does as much as the King to govern the country. Though Edward is half-convinced she¡¯s avoiding us as much as we¡¯re avoiding her.


    We have another student move into our class from the other to make up the numbers; to my surprise it¡¯s Robin.


    ¡°I think she only wanted to be in the other class to avoid Mildred,¡± Edward tells me quietly. ¡°Those two really hate each other.¡±


    That would explain why she¡¯s so much friendlier with me now.


    She fits in well with our little group, taking Mildred¡¯s customary seat next to Elsie. She¡¯s quiet but knowledgeable, which is probably why Edward likes her, and seems to get on well with her desk partner. That¡¯s a relief; I was worried that Elsie would be stuck on her own now, but didn¡¯t want to sit with her instead of Edward. I learn a lot more from listening to him.


    Robin joins Edward and I for lunch. I thought that would be horrifically awkward, but it¡¯s not. She doesn¡¯t flirt at all, just talks about different ways of charging enchantments. I don¡¯t understand half of what they¡¯re saying, and I stop trying to follow the conversation pretty quickly. Edward seems happy to be talking to someone who actually understands magic, at least; he¡¯s soon scribbling notes on a napkin and showing them to her.


    She leaves halfway through the break to work on the latest Magical Law and Culture essay, making me feel a little bad about not studying when I¡¯m still behind and she isn¡¯t.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Edward says. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to get into the technical details so much.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I¡¯m not surprised you did.¡±


    ¡°It is a little predictable, I suppose,¡± he admits.


    ¡°Anyway. Do you want to talk about¡­¡±


    ¡°What is there to talk about? He committed treason, he was given the punishment for treason. That¡¯s that.¡±


    I know him well enough by now to recognise when he genuinely doesn¡¯t care about something and when he¡¯s pretending he doesn¡¯t to hide his real feelings. This is the latter. ¡°You should talk to him.¡±


    ¡°He won¡¯t have time.¡±


    I remember thinking that about my own dad, so many times. There was always another case, he was always spending more time at the office, he wasn¡¯t there to talk to until it was too late. But then he came and sat by my hospital bed. He visited me as soon as he could when I was isolated.


    ¡°It¡¯s important. If he cares about you, if he cares about being a good father, he will make time.¡± I realise as soon as I¡¯ve spoken that I¡¯ve said the wrong thing. If Edward is already doubting his father, I¡¯ve just made it worse. ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C I didn¡¯t mean ¨C ¡°


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    ¡°You did,¡± he says. ¡°And you¡¯re not wrong either. I¡¯ll send him a message.¡±


    I realise after lessons finish that I have library books due back. I can return them without setting foot in hyperspace, but I don¡¯t want to be afraid of hyperspace. I don¡¯t want to be afraid of a library. ¡°So,¡± I say to Edward with exaggerated casualness as we escape the Spells classroom. ¡°I¡¯m going to the library. Do you want to come with me?¡±


    He narrows his eyes. He knows what I¡¯m really saying: I don¡¯t want to go alone. Please come with me. ¡°Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I admit. ¡°But ¨C I¡¯m not staying away from the library for my entire time here. So I might as well get it over with.¡±


    ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t mind looking at the section on spell combination theory, now you mention it¡­¡±


    So that¡¯s our next expedition, after a stop at my dormitory to collect the books I¡¯m returning. I was hoping to see Rosie to apologise about breaking the door last time I was here (and possibly to have an excuse to stall) but she¡¯s not on duty today; instead there¡¯s a gruff bearded man who notes down our names and takes my books with the fewest words possible.


    The door is the same make as the one I destroyed, though obviously it¡¯s not the same one. I step to one side for Edward to go through first, but he shakes his head. ¡°After you.¡±


    It¡¯s silly, being so scared. It¡¯s a library. Libraries are safe, quiet places that aren¡¯t at all dangerous. Well, the hyperspace part is dangerous, but only if I don¡¯t take the right precautions. Nothing is going to go wrong.


    I reach out, take the doorknob, twist. The door swings open. Beyond it are shelves of dimly-lit books and that dreadful empty greyness of a place no person is meant to be. If I don¡¯t think about it, it¡¯ll be fine. I¡¯m just going to get some history books. That¡¯s all.


    I take a step forward into nothing, and it holds my weight. I step fully inside and move aside so Edward can follow.


    ¡°Okay?¡± he asks.


    I nod shakily, and then make myself say ¡°Yes. Fine.¡± I am fine. Completely fine. Charles First-King.


    ¡°Shall I shut the door?¡±


    No. Don¡¯t. ¡°Yes. Go ahead.¡±


    He does it slowly, watching me. I don¡¯t feel the signs of a Malaina episode, not even at the last moment as the door slots into its frame.


    Right. History section. ¡°You can go and look for your spell combination books,¡± I tell Edward. ¡°I¡¯ll be okay.¡± I¡¯m not going to have an episode just because you¡¯re not here. At least, that¡¯s what I tell myself.


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure¡­¡±


    ¡°Go on.¡±


    ¡°Call if you need anything.¡± He sets out across the nothingness without hesitation.


    I stay by the door for a short while. Edwin the Just. Thomas the Defender. I continue my mental recital until I reach Richard Blackbeard, and then his successor Lucy the Fair. Remembering her helps a lot.


    I take a step, and another, and soon I¡¯m walking normally as if there¡¯s normal ground beneath my feet. The history section isn¡¯t far, a couple of dozen paces at most. I settle down and pick out the first book that catches my eye, a discussion of the Border Wars. Next to it is ¨C


    Maria the Seafarer. Interesting. Mildred¡¯s voice plays in my mind: it¡¯s the same biography I was reading the last time I was here.


    Lucy the Fair¡¯s successor was her son Alfred the Short, I recall quickly. His name always makes me laugh, even now; I imagine a man who would hate to know that he¡¯s remembered for his height rather than any of his great works. Not that I¡¯ve found any of his great works: history has little interest in him. Historians are much more interested in his children, because his daughter was Isabella the Pious, whose death marks the beginning of the First Civil War.


    Elizabeth the Martyr. Lucius the Usurper. Alexandra Snow Queen. Philippa the Bright.


    Some of the most dramatic decades in the country¡¯s history are passed over in four names. I reach out and pull the biography off the shelf. Its cover feels very real. Mildred was right, it was interesting. I was enjoying it before she arrived. Or maybe I just want to banish the memories of that incident. Either way, I intend to read it.


    And that collection of essays on the Temple¡¯s influence on the succession next to it is definitely joining the pile next to it, and so is the book on early Sirgalese history ¨C I don¡¯t know as much as I should about the history of countries other than Rasin, but it¡¯s hard to track down good books on the topic ¨C and then¡­


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    Oh, right. Edward. I¡¯ve lost track of time again, haven¡¯t I? And I¡¯m surrounded by stacks of books, far more than I can take out at one time.


    It¡¯s a wonderful feeling.


    I spend the rest of the day catching up with things I should have done before and resisting the temptation to dive straight into my newly-borrowed books. I¡¯m only one lesson away from being caught up by dinner-time, and after that I write to my dad.


    It takes me half a dozen drafts to get it right, not committing secrets to parchment or letting him know how much the Cavendish sentence bothers me. In fact, realising there¡¯s a chance my mother will also read the letter, I don¡¯t mention the isolation or the hearing directly at all. If Tara delivered my message like she promised, she¡¯ll be able to answer all his questions about that anyway.


    I¡¯m not the only one writing to my father this evening: Edward and I run into each other in the post room. He has a note for his own father, which he shows me before sealing it: I want to talk about the Cavendish case. It¡¯s important. Thank you.


    I guess that is the way they communicate: short and to the point.


    Lord Blackthorn writes back the next morning. I waited until the last possible moment to offer Mildred a deal, since desperation would make her less likely to mistrust me. With Tallulah safe I saw no reason to spare Cavendish. Please pass my apologies to Tallulah for the loss of two weeks; I will make it up to her at a future point.


    That¡¯s it. That¡¯s the whole message. I should count myself lucky I got the apology.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t understand,¡± Edward says.


    That¡¯s one way of putting it.


    ¡°He doesn¡¯t understand,¡± repeats Edward.


    And I realise how much that hurts him. He wanted an answer to the question he actually meant rather than the one he wrote down. He wanted to believe that his father at least feels guilty about this.


    Lord Blackthorn doesn¡¯t. He does what is best for the country, regardless of things like guilt or even his son¡¯s feelings.


    Edward crumples the note into a ball and shows me the front page of the Herald. Lord Cavendish¡¯s execution has been scheduled: this Saturday, on Traitors¡¯ Hill. Public.


    ¡°You want to go,¡± I say.


    He nods. ¡°Come with me?¡±


    I don¡¯t want to go. I want to curl up with a book and pretend it¡¯s not happening. But this is important to him ¨C it must be, otherwise he wouldn¡¯t have asked. It¡¯s a form of closure, I suppose, putting all this behind us. A way of understanding what our choices, what his father¡¯s choices, have led to.


    ¡°If you want me to,¡± I say, ¡°then of course I will.¡±

 43. Delayed-Action Permanent Enchantments

    It¡¯s actually a quiet week, compared to other weeks I¡¯ve been having recently. I¡¯m finally up to date with my work by halfway through it, so I accept Edward¡¯s offer to teach me some more advanced magic.


    ¡°Triggered enchantments,¡± he says, leaning back in his chair. We¡¯ve taken over a study room for the evening, complete with textbooks we¡¯ll pretend to be working through if anyone joins us. ¡°We¡¯re meant to cover them after Holy Days anyway, so it¡¯ll be useful for you. It¡¯s ridiculous that we¡¯ve had a whole month of lessons and haven¡¯t reached them yet ¨C any remotely useful enchantment is going to be triggered.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing. That, I suppose, is the problem with knowing much of the material before it¡¯s dealt with in class. And also with being a Blackthorn. ¡°Okay,¡± I say once I¡¯ve calmed down. ¡°Start from the beginning. What is a triggered enchantment?¡±


    ¡°An enchantment that will only activate when certain conditions are met. The work we¡¯ve been doing in class is all permanent enchantment, changing the properties of objects: colour, weight and so on. That¡¯s useful, because it avoids spending a spell, but what you really want is to be able to activate something like that in an instant, or even for a non-magician to be able to use an enchantment. You might be interested in the movement to make magic accessible for all, incidentally. Quite the historical drama. There¡¯s a book about it in the family library.¡±


    I nod eagerly. ¡°Just get me into your library. Please. I¡¯ll do anything.¡±


    It¡¯s his turn to laugh. ¡°I will hold you to that.¡±


    I hope he¡¯s joking, but it would be just like him to take that far more literally than it was intended and rope me into some hare-brained scheme. Though judging by our acquaintance so far, I¡¯d likely join in the scheme without needing to be bribed with a library.


    ¡°Can I clarify that statement? Nothing illegal, nothing that even comes close to being illegal, nothing unethical, nothing that I¡¯m not actually capable of, nothing that¡¯ll cause a Malaina episode¡­¡±


    ¡°That rules out all my ideas so far,¡± Edward says. He has such a straight face I think for a second that he¡¯s serious. ¡°Anyway, back on topic. The most simple form of triggered enchantment is what¡¯s known as delayed-action permanent enchantment. That takes enchantments such as you¡¯ve already studied, but instead of acting immediately the effect will now occur when you channel magic into it. And I do mean specifically you ¨C triggers that can be activated by any magician are a little harder.¡±


    ¡°You can do them, though?¡±


    He looks at me as if I¡¯ve just gravely insulted his entire family. Actually, considering who he is, questioning his ability to do something so ¡°basic¡± probably does count as a grave insult to every Blackthorn past and present. ¡°Yes. I can. So¡­ favourite permanent enchantment?¡±


    If this is the most simple form of triggered enchantment, I do not want to know what the more complicated forms are like. Edward makes it look and sound easy, but it really isn¡¯t. After the fifteenth failed attempt at enchanting my textbook to later turn blue, I throw my hands up in despair.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have offered to teach you if I didn¡¯t think you were capable.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Maybe you were wrong.¡±


    ¡°It is a major conceptual leap from what you¡¯ve done before. You shouldn¡¯t be surprised it¡¯s taking you a while.¡±


    ¡°Did it take you this long?¡±


    ¡°Well ¨C no, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Exactly ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I have a much better understanding of the theory behind this than you do.¡± If it were anyone else saying that, I¡¯d immediately hate them for saying: yeah, I¡¯m smarter than you, I know more than you, of course I¡¯m going to be better. But it¡¯s Edward, and he doesn¡¯t mean it in that way at all. He¡¯s just stating facts.


    ¡°That helps?¡±


    ¡°Of course. For me, immeasurably. I did an experiment a few weeks ago to prove it, as much as you can prove anything about magic learning by experimenting on yourself.¡±


    That¡¯s not much, if what I¡¯ve picked up from Magical Theory is accurate. Magic isn¡¯t only based on the complicated, abstract mathematical structures Edward is always reading about; it¡¯s based on belief. So it¡¯s impossible for Edward to prevent the effect of his beliefs about whether learning theory first helps him from influencing his experiment.


    ¡°Really,¡± he adds at my sceptical look. ¡°Knowing what an enchantment means and why you have to cast it in a particular way makes it so much easier to remember and believe it. That¡¯s my other advantage: self-belief.¡±


    I stare blankly at him.


    ¡°I¡¯m a Blackthorn. I can do magic. It¡¯s easier for me than for other people. I can do things they think are impossible with my experience. One day I¡¯ll be one of the best magicians in the world.¡± He pauses for effect. ¡°That probably sounds like I¡¯m just boasting, but I¡¯m not. I really believe all of that. And when it¡¯s magic you¡¯re dealing with? That¡¯s enough to make it true.¡±


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    I suppose he¡¯s right. It¡¯s more than self-belief: it¡¯s the complete confidence that if you want to change the world, you can. That established laws of magic are more like guidelines, and you have no need to care about them.


    It¡¯s not much of a mental leap to imagine what that attitude would look like applied to politics and social conventions instead of magic. Very much, I realise, like Lord Blackthorn¡¯s. I understand him a little better now.


    That sort of confidence and arrogance might make someone a better magician, but applied to the rest of life it could be extremely dangerous.


    It also makes something else abundantly clear: I do not have that attitude. Not one bit. I still haven¡¯t adjusted to the fact I can do any form of magic, never mind make these conceptual leaps. Never mind do something extraordinary.


    I¡¯m not an extraordinary magician. I¡¯m not even a magician, really. I¡¯m a lawyer-in-training who just happened to gain magic by some quirk of fate and her own weakness.


    If Edward is right, maybe that¡¯s what¡¯s holding me back.


    ¡°You can still get there. It¡¯ll just take you a little longer, a little more practice. You¡¯re making good progress, though. Try again?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I think I know why this isn¡¯t taught until after Holy Days.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s hard. Really hard. Hard enough they don¡¯t expect us to be able to manage it until we¡¯ve spent a couple more months learning magic.¡± That¡¯s an educated guess, based on how I¡¯ve found this compared to the usual difficulty of our classwork and my knowledge of Edward.


    He shrugs. ¡°Probably, yes.¡±


    ¡°And you think I can manage this now.¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°I could give you a nice long rant on education practices and how teachers aim their lessons to the weakest students and are afraid to let any of them truly struggle, which means few of them will ever reach their full potential. But that¡¯s not what you mean, is it?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I¡¯m not special. I¡¯m about average in all our practical classes. Maybe even a bit below average.¡±


    Edward looks at me for a long moment, then reaches across the table to take my hand. There¡¯s that strange intensity in his gaze as our eyes meet. Just like his father, threatening me with unspeakable fates if I ever hurt him.


    ¡°Tallulah. You had no prior knowledge of magic before starting here.¡±


    ¡°Nor did ¨C ¡°


    He looks at me, and I shut up and let him continue. ¡°You started lessons three days late, when you were still recovering from major trauma.¡±


    Major trauma. I still haven¡¯t told him the truth about why I Fell. I don¡¯t know if I can.


    ¡°And you have just spent two weeks in isolation, with no proper teaching and only being able to practice casting stupidly early in the morning and under the supervision of Electra. Under those circumstances, I¡¯d say that being about average is really a remarkable achievement.¡±


    I blink a few times. I¡¯ve never thought about it that way, but¡­ he¡¯s not entirely wrong.


    ¡°Besides. I¡¯ve been sitting next to you and watching you cast. Your knowledge of theory is dreadfully lacking, of course, but you show a good instinctive understanding of the principles of casting and can adapt your casting to new situations easily.¡±


    I stare back at him. ¡°It¡¯s ¨C very kind of you to tell me that, but you don¡¯t have to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah. You seem to be suggesting that I¡¯m telling you you¡¯re better than you are to spare your feelings.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t have admitted it out loud, but that was the first thought I had on hearing him.


    ¡°Have you met me?¡±


    I laugh involuntarily. It¡¯s true: Edward isn¡¯t the sort to give praise lightly or to care about sparing feelings. Which means he genuinely believes I¡¯m a talented magician. And I don¡¯t think he¡¯s the sort to be wrong about that either.


    He believes in me. More than I do.


    ¡°Try again?¡± Edward asks.


    ¡°All right.¡±


    I don¡¯t get it that time, or the time after, or even the time after that. But Edward says my technique is improving, and I tell myself before each attempt that he believes in me, that he thinks I can do this, and that maybe he¡¯s right.


    And another six tries later, it turns out he is. This time when I channel a sliver of magic into the book, its cover turns the deep blue of a summer sky.


    ¡°Would it be really annoying if I said I told you so?¡± Edward asks, smiling.


    I grin back. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I told you so. Here ¨C I¡¯ll purge that so you can try again ¨C ¡° he mutters an incantation and the blue colour drains away from the book, leaving it the original boring dusty-brown. ¡°Keep going until you can get it three times in a row. That¡¯s when it¡¯s generally accepted that you can actually cast a spell rather than it just being a fluke.¡±


    It¡¯s not as hard as I thought it would be after how long it took me to succeed the first time; I only fail once before casting three perfect enchantments in a row. Edward is probably right about this belief thing: now I believe I can cast this, it¡¯s a hundred times easier.


    ¡°Shall we move onto something more advanced?¡± he asks.


    I laugh. ¡°Slow down a bit?¡±


    Edward sighs exaggeratedly. ¡°Fine. How about trying the same exercise with a different permanent enchantment?¡±


    It takes me three tries to get the simple levitation enchantment to work with the delayed effect, but when I actually activate it the book hovers above the table for only a few seconds. When I cast the enchantment normally it held there for a full minute. ¡°All right, I know you¡¯ve been dying to give me a lecture about theory.¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°This enchantment, unlike a colour-changing enchantment, needs magical energy to maintain. It¡¯s also too simple to draw from the ambience or from nearby sources, so it works only until the initial energy input in the casting is used up. But there¡¯s certainly no possibility of storing magical energy in an enchantment this basic ¨C finding a reasonably efficient way to store magical energy artificially is one of the great unsolved problems in magical theory ¨C so the modification to delayed-action means that the energy is input when you activate rather than cast the enchantment.¡±


    ¡°And I wasn¡¯t channelling much magic into it at all,¡± I finish. ¡°Nowhere near as much as I would as part of casting directly.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    ¡°So if I channel more magic, it¡¯ll last longer?¡±


    ¡°Up to a point. If you channel too much magic into an enchantment, it¡¯ll overload and fail. That¡¯s one of the reasons Malaina don¡¯t often specialise in enchantments.¡±


    I nod grimly: it¡¯s much harder for Malaina to have the precise control over the amount of magic they channel that comes naturally to Siaril. Never mind simultaneous casting: the best thing about being multi-School is being able to choose which School to cast with for each task.


    By the end of the week I can cast all the permanent enchantments we¡¯ve learnt in class as delayed-action permanent enchantments, and Edward is trying to persuade me to make the next conceptual leap and adjust my enchantments to be activated by any magician. I will soon.


    Classwork goes well. Robin joins Elsie, Elizabeth and I at mealtimes now; our unlikely trio has become an even more unlikely foursome. If she¡¯s trying to get closer to Edward by befriending me, she¡¯s disappointed: he never joins the four of us, and only spends time with me alone. I wonder if I can make a deal with Edward: I learn more advanced magic, and he learns how to socialise. Unlike me, though, I¡¯m not sure he even wants to learn.


    The silence from Mildred is almost more ominous than any threats or bitter accusations could be. And inevitably, sooner than I¡¯d have liked, the day of the execution dawns.

 44. Fun Day Out

    Traitors¡¯ Hill is just to the north of the City, outside its walls. That makes it a good hour¡¯s walk from the Academy. Edward spends most of it complaining about the restrictions on teleportation: you have to be a qualified magician to learn, and that¡¯s the kind of rule that even a powerful father can¡¯t get around.


    The exercise does me good, though. I probably don¡¯t get enough of it most days, climbing the Academy¡¯s many stairs notwithstanding. And it¡¯s nice to have another chance to see the City. We avoid the Market, but the streets are still busy: filled with people shopping, travelling, or just enjoying the unseasonably warm weather.


    As we go further out, the buildings get noticeably less grand, the people less well-dressed. The streets are narrower and dirtier, and many of the houses are built from wood rather than stone. There are beggars on most corners now; Edward tosses each of them a silver piece. I can¡¯t afford to do the same, and giving a handful of coppers when he¡¯s giving much more seems wrong, so I keep my money to myself.


    ¡°Are you sure this is safe?¡± I ask Edward, flicking a nervous glance at a pair of burly men in tattered overcoats standing in the doorway of a boarded-up shop. He¡¯s abandoned his magician¡¯s robes in favour of a more casual outfit, but we¡¯re still well-dressed enough to stand out. And not in a good way.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Just keep walking and look straight ahead. See, there¡¯s a police patrol ahead.¡±


    So there is, though if anything the trio of officers marching towards us look more thuggish than the men in the doorway. There are police patrols in the Inner Ring too, of course, but there they wear neat, polished ceremonial uniforms and carry no visible weapons. These three haven¡¯t polished their boots in a while, and their hands hover over the cudgels in their belts.


    ¡°Morning, kids,¡± says the man a step ahead of the others, who seems to be their leader, as we reach each other. ¡°Where are you off to all alone?¡±


    I tense, and try not to panic.


    ¡°Going to see the execution,¡± says Edward. As well as changing his outfit, he¡¯s dispensed with his usual accent in favour of a rapid twang similar to the officer¡¯s.


    ¡°Are you, now? Very young to be so morbid. You have the toll?¡±


    ¡°What toll?¡± Edward asks.


    The officer looks us up and down as if calculating how much we can afford. ¡°A Lord¡¯s Silver each. To pass through the Northwest Wool District, since you¡¯re disturbing business here.¡±


    I¡¯m reasonably sure there isn¡¯t such a toll, but I reach into my purse anyway. I¡¯d rather lose money than get into a fight with these men.


    Edward, though, has other ideas. He puts a hand on my wrist to stop me and says ¡°I happen to know there¡¯s no such thing as a Northwest District Toll.¡± His accent is slipping back towards his normal way of speech.


    ¡°Seems to me you¡¯re misinformed,¡± the officer growls. ¡°That right, Johnson?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± says one of the men behind him, letting a hand settle on his cudgel.


    ¡°Pippa,¡± Edward says, giving me a significant look. ¡°You¡¯re better informed about law than I am. Tell me, is what these officers are doing legal?¡±


    I wonder who Pippa is for a second before realising Edward has decided to give me a false name. Okay. I can play along with this, even if I don¡¯t know the minutiae of City law on tolls. And even if I think this is a terrible idea. ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°the City government does have the power to restrict or charge for entry into certain regions.¡±


    The lead officer smirks and holds out his hand for our money. For a moment I consider giving it to him. It would be so much easier, and I¡¯m not sure we can win without unleashing the full power of Malaina if this comes to a fight.


    But I can¡¯t abandon Edward. And besides: what these officers are doing is unjust, and I don¡¯t believe in perpetuating injustice. ¡°However,¡± I say, wondering how my voice remains level. ¡°Those tolls are enforced when entering the relevant regions. People should be clearly informed of them before they enter such regions. And the police do not have the authority to enforce them. So¡­ no. What these officers are doing is very much illegal.¡±


    ¡°Further,¡± Edward says, his accent fully returned to normal, ¡°it is unjust. You are taking money from the City¡¯s poor, those who can least afford it, to line your pockets or those of your employers. You are exploiting those you swore to protect, going against the fundamental principles of your office. You should be ashamed.¡±


    It¡¯s not a bad speech. I don¡¯t think these men will be swayed by speeches, though, and I¡¯d be surprised if Edward did. He must have a plan. I wish I knew what it was.


    ¡°You seem to be misunderstanding. Maybe in your fancy Inner Ring that¡¯s true. But here? The only law that matters is strength.¡± He draws the cudgel from his belt and whacks it against his hand for emphasis. ¡°We¡¯re stronger than you. That means we can take your money.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± says Johnson, ¡°they might complain to someone.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± the third officer says. ¡°If someone rich gets hurt, people might start caring about our little operation. Tell you what. We¡¯ll waive the toll, just this once, since you didn¡¯t know. And in exchange, you¡¯ll keep your little mouths shut ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± the leader interrupts. ¡°Who¡¯s in charge here?¡± He smacks his hand against the cudgel again.


    I¡¯m tempted to take the officer¡¯s deal. Not that I have any intention of keeping my word, of course; I just want to get out of here, and then Edward will tell his father, who will no doubt see these men out of their jobs.


    Then it hits me: I¡¯m no better than Lord Blackthorn if I do that. What¡¯s the difference between me breaking my word to these officers and him breaking his word to Mildred?


    That what the officers are doing is unjust. But wouldn¡¯t it be unjust to let a traitor live, from the right point of view?


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    ¡°We can¡¯t trust them,¡± the leader says, now his subordinates are silent. ¡°Rich brats¡¯ promises are worthless. Only one way to make sure they don¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    It¡¯s a still day, but a gust of wind still blows from behind us. It¡¯s only strong enough to ruffle our hair, but it gains in strength until when it reaches the officers they stagger and fall to the ground like skittles.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there,¡± says Edward, ¡°run!¡±


    So we run, dodging the officers before they have a chance to climb to their feet and hurtling on. Edward is probably fast enough to leave me behind, but he matches my pace. I¡¯m running faster than I knew I could run, gasping for breath but not slowing for a second. I don¡¯t dare look back to see if we¡¯re being followed; I just pump my legs ever harder.


    We don¡¯t stop until we reach the safety of the city¡¯s North Gate.


    I stagger to a halt at the end of the queue. It¡¯s a long one; at some point while we were running we joined a crowd of people, all headed for Traitors¡¯ Hill and the execution. Even if the police officers have followed us, they won¡¯t dare attack us now. Not with this many witnesses.


    I want to ask Edward what happened. Did he cast a spell to make that wind? He must have done, because it wasn¡¯t me and I doubt there was another magician watching that confrontation. And is he going to tell his father?


    I don¡¯t ask any of those questions, because I know he won¡¯t want to talk about the incident in public. Besides, I can guess the answers.


    The queue moves forwards slowly. I¡¯ve more or less recovered from the unplanned sprint by the time we reach the Gate itself. Edward has a token that allows him and his companions to enter and leave the City as they please; only its number is noted in the records.


    ¡°I¡¯ll probably have to deal with my dad knowing I went to the execution before too long,¡± he says.


    He gave me strict instructions beforehand not to say anything that could reveal exactly who his dad is, which rule out most of the replies I could make. It¡¯s still a disturbing idea that Lord Blackthorn is using his powers as Minister for Intelligence to stalk his own son. I wish it surprised me.


    The worst of the kingdom¡¯s criminals have been executed on Traitors¡¯ Hill for centuries. It first got its name from the brutal execution of the agents of a failed conspiracy against Charles the Ruthless here. Legend has it that the land where an execution was held is forever tainted, haunted by the spirits of those who died there and cannot rest until they have atoned for their sins; that¡¯s why the Hill is safely outside the City walls.


    There¡¯s no real evidence of the curse, as far as I can work out, but that doesn¡¯t stop rumours. The crowds don¡¯t seem to have been put off by it though: hundreds, maybe even thousands of people are climbing the hill to witness yet another addition to the list of traitors who have died here.


    Edward and I join them. The hill is fairly steep, so the climb is not a fun one. Especially when he seems to barely notice it. Elsie was right that day we fled the courthouse: it is unfair.


    The slopes are filled with trees, mostly oaks from what little I know of botany. The path upwards is narrow and crossed by roots, and leaves of all different shades of orange and brown carpet the ground. It¡¯s a surprise when we crest a rise and emerge into the open.


    The clearing is maybe a few hundred metres across, though it¡¯s hard to tell when we¡¯re not quite at the top of the hill. The flat area at the summit, when we reach it, is half that and already thronged with people, so much so that I can barely see the wooden platform that¡¯s been raised above the crowd or make out the people seated there. It¡¯s ringed with cobbled-together stalls; most of them are selling food or drink, though there¡¯s one running a ball game of some sort and a couple with clothes of some sort.


    A fun day out for all the family.


    ¡°Overpriced rubbish,¡± Edward says. ¡°Captive audience.¡± But he joins the back of a queue for sausage rolls anyway.


    I shoot him a questioning glance.


    ¡°We need food. And I can afford it. Speaking of that, keep an eye on your purse. I¡¯d be surprised if there weren¡¯t pickpockets at work here.¡±


    I press a hand protectively to my pocket.


    ¡°Not like that! That just tells them where your valuables are. Be subtle about it.¡±


    I give him a playful glare and remove my hand. It is helpful advice, even if the delivery could use work.


    Sausage rolls bought, we try to find a good spot. Close enough to the front that we can see properly, but not so close that we can be seen by those on the platform. Now that we¡¯re closer I can see them well enough to identify.


    There¡¯s two rows of half a dozen chairs set out on each side of the platform. Closest to us on the left side is a man who isn¡¯t hard to recognise, since his face is on all the coins. King Robert is twisted round into his seat, talking to the woman next to him, his daughter.


    High Princess Alexandra takes after her father: her hair is exactly the same shade of dark brown as his. She¡¯s not as pretty as I imagined a princess should be, but there¡¯s still something about her that draws my attention. The man sitting next to her must be her husband, Prince Tomas; he has the pale skin and red hair typical of his home country, Thalia. And beside him are the King¡¯s other two adult children. Stephen and Miranda both look more bored than anything.


    I don¡¯t recognise the woman at the end of the row, though her outfit is much less extravagant than the Royal Family¡¯s: she wears a simple but stylish black hat.


    It¡¯s not too hard to work out who the quintet taking up the second row are. The Royal Magicians are easy to recognise from their formal robes of office: blue for Malaina, silvery-grey for Arsinth, green for Latira, brown for Rittome and of course scarlet for Siaril.


    Lord Blackthorn looks just as much at home in that robe as he did in the nondescript suit he was wearing when we met, but it instantly gives him a much more commanding presence. I get the sense his neighbour, the young and freshly appointed Rittome Royal, is scared of him: she¡¯s leaning away from him and occasionally flicking nervous glances in his direction.


    All five Royal Magicians and the King¡¯s entire family (except the nine-year-old) are present, then. There¡¯s no doubt that is a deliberate political statement.


    The other side of the platform is reserved for the family and friends of the condemned. There are only two people there. One is Mildred, who¡¯s dressed in a plain black dress rather than her magician¡¯s robes; the other, clinging to her hand, seems like a slightly younger version of her. That must be her little sister. Even her mother isn¡¯t there, though I remember reading somewhere that she was ill and often not strong enough to attend events.


    There¡¯s a single chair in the centre of the platform, currently empty.


    I already feel like I¡¯m intruding. This shouldn¡¯t be a public spectacle. Bad enough he has to die at all without making it like this.


    It has to be a spectacle, though. I know enough history to realise why this happens. It¡¯s to tell the whole City and country in the clearest possible terms that this is the fate that awaits traitors. That justice will be served and punishment carried out.


    I swallow the last of my sausage roll ¨C surprisingly good-tasting for overpriced rubbish ¨C and brush crumbs off my clothes. ¡°No block?¡± I ask Edward.


    He shakes his head and replies, but I can¡¯t hear him over the chatter of the crowd.


    ¡°Say that again,¡± I tell him, raising my own voice.


    ¡°He¡¯s drinking poison.¡±


    It¡¯s an ancient tradition that all traitors can choose their own method of death. Some choose a manner they feel is fitting to their crime, and others choose a way that will be as inconvenient as possible to carry out, a last petty blow against the establishment they fought against. Most, though, opt simply to make their end quick and painless. Poison is a popular choice for those purposes.


    I¡¯m relieved, not that I¡¯d admit it: I¡¯ve never had much of a stomach for violence.


    ¡°¡¯Scuse me,¡± says a woman, nearly knocking Edward over. ¡°Got to get a good spot.¡±


    She should have shown up earlier, then. Neither Edward or I say that, though. What¡¯s the point? Strange woman: it¡¯s not nearly cold enough for the thick overcoat she¡¯s wearing.


    We wait for a few more minutes, thankfully not without being hit by anyone else. Then the woman on the front row rises to her feet, and silence falls instantly.

 45. Execution

    ¡°Greetings to you all,¡± says the woman. Her voice rings out louder than it should; it must be magically amplified. ¡°I am Beatrice Langley, the King¡¯s Executioner. The traitor who will die today is George Cavendish, formerly Lord of the Kingdom of Rasin. He has been found guilty of the charges against him: misleading Parliament, taking a bribe to influence Parliamentary process, and high treason.¡±


    ¡°Traitor,¡± someone in the crowd shouts.


    ¡°Death,¡± another voice joins in. ¡°Death to the traitor!¡±


    Beatrice Langley calmly raises a hand for silence, and waits a few moments until she gets it. ¡°In particular, he used his former position on Parliament¡¯s Sirgalese Relations Committee to give misleading impressions about that country¡¯s intentions towards our Kingdom, and in fact took money from Sirgal to do so.¡±


    This revelation starts up a fresh round of jeers and cries of ¡°Death!¡±. It¡¯s not a comfortable feeling being part of this crowd that¡¯s baying for blood when that¡¯s the last thing I want.


    ¡°His Majesty has chosen to sentence George Cavendish to death for these crimes against the very nature of our Kingdom. Bring forth the traitor!¡± She shouts those last words and gestures towards the back of the platform.


    There must be stairs behind it, because three men ascend slowly up towards the platform. Two heavily-built guards half-march, half-drag the man between them.


    I don¡¯t know what I expected Mildred¡¯s father to be. But he just looks normal. Old, tired and very much human. He ignores the growing chants of the crowd and sits down on the central chair, staring straight ahead and letting his arms flop to his sides. It¡¯s an attitude of such despair that part of me wants to scream no! Don¡¯t do this! Can¡¯t you see he¡¯s human, can¡¯t you see he has a daughter!


    But that would be even more useless than my earlier failures. I¡¯m not here to play the hero and save him at the last possible second. I¡¯m here to bear witness. And that is what I must do. Stand and watch. Know that perhaps if I had chosen differently this wouldn¡¯t have happened.


    ¡°Before the sentence is carried out,¡± says Beatrice Langley, ¡°perhaps His Majesty would like to share a few words with his subjects?¡± She sweeps a graceful bow towards the King.


    He rises slowly. ¡°Thank you, Beatrice. In my coronation vows twelve years ago, I swore that I would defend this country and its traditions. Ever since then, I have done my best to fulfil that oath: to protect my Kingdom against all those who would seek to take it from us, to ensure that it is prosperous and peaceful ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Lies!¡± someone shouts.


    Utter silence. Calling the King a liar is no small thing; people have died for lesser crimes. So to do it here, in public ¨C with a reminder of the consequences of treason right in front of us ¨C


    The King draws himself up icily. ¡°Who said that?¡± he asks, his voice cold and dreadful. ¡°Who dares call me a liar?¡±


    For a moment I hope there will be no response, that the King will recover his place and resume his speech, that nothing will come of that cry.


    Then the voice shouts ¡°I dare!¡±


    And a woman¡¯s voice from behind us: ¡°I say you will not save us!¡±


    ¡°I say you will not serve your people!¡±


    And then the woman in the oversized coat who shoved past us, as she throws it off to reveal a sword strapped to her back: ¡°I say you are not fit to rule!¡±


    After that it¡¯s impossible to distinguish individual voices, there are so many shouting contradictory things: the noise of the crowd becomes a single great roar. There are chants of ¡°Death to traitors! Death to the false lords!¡±, screams of panic. The guards below the platform have drawn their weapons. Lord Blackthorn jumps to his feet and starts barking out what could be a string of orders or an incantation.


    And Edward tugs at my hand.


    He doesn¡¯t need to say anything: we have to get out. Now.


    We turn away from the platform and the chaos developing there and plunge into the crowd. It¡¯s not easy to escape, though: there are hundreds of people with the same idea, all trying to force their way forwards at the expense of others, and some trying to fight their way forwards towards the platform.


    Our small size relative to the many grown adults here makes it even harder. We¡¯re buffeted from side to side, nearly knocked over, again and again. It seems for every step we take forward we¡¯re forced back another. I cling to Edward¡¯s hand like a drowning swimmer does to a rope.


    And then a woman with a screaming toddler on her shoulders barges through the gap between us and knocks his hand from mine. I lose sight of him in an instant as half a dozen people flow through the space where he was a second ago.


    No. It¡¯s going to be okay. I just have to get myself to safety, and then I can find him. Edward will be fine; he can take care of himself much better than I can.


    I can feel my heart beating a little faster, my breathing becoming quicker and shallower. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. A Malaina episode here and now would doubtless result in many deaths. I can¡¯t let that happen.


    I battle my way forward a few more paces, but I¡¯m not looking at where I¡¯m putting my feet. So when I step onto the remains of the stall where Edward and I brought sausage rolls, crushed by the sheer weight of the crowd, I¡¯m not prepared for it. My foot hits an unstable plank of wood.


    I fling out my hands, hoping I can right myself, but I¡¯m too late. I fall and hit the ground, hard. The shock of the impact numbs me for a second, but my senses are rudely restored by the unmistakeable feeling of someone treading on my foot.


    It hurts. Stars, it hurts. I have to get up. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. I brace my hands against a plank, but before I can push myself upwards someone steps on my hand. I bite back a scream and try again, but my hand won¡¯t generate any upwards force now. I¡¯ve probably broken something.


    I can¡¯t get up. The crowd isn¡¯t stopping. More people are going to trample all over me, break more of my body.


    I¡¯m going to die here.


    There is nothing that you cannot make worse through an active episode.


    If it¡¯s a choice between that and death ¨C


    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Then you choose death.


    Maybe a Malaina episode could save me, but it would kill dozens. I can¡¯t let that happen.


    I can¡¯t lie here and die knowing I could have saved myself.


    Someone steps onto my back. ¡°No ¨C ¡° I shout hoarsely, ¡°please ¨C ¡°


    But it¡¯s no use: there¡¯s so much noise and chaos that no-one hears me scream.


    Eleanor the Bold. I pull my limbs in towards my body. If I take up less space, fewer people will tread on me. Timothy the Peacemaker. ¡°Maria the Seafarer,¡± I whisper.


    There are worst last words than the names of kings.


    ¡°Get away from her!¡±


    I blink and look up. I¡¯m not being trampled any more. Is that ¨C yes ¨C Edward is standing over me, wielding a plank like a sword and shouting at the top of his lungs to be heard over the crowd. ¡°Give her space! This girl is my friend, and I am not letting her die here ¨C ¡° he shoves a man in the chest with the plank, and sends a frantic woman stumbling backwards with a spell of some sort.


    And it¡¯s working. The crowd isn¡¯t moving towards us any more. Edward has carved out a circle of space for the two of us in the ruins of the sausage roll stand.


    ¡°Edward,¡± I shout over the noise. ¡°You came back for me.¡±


    ¡°Of course I did, you idiot. Can you stand?¡±


    ¡°I doubt it.¡±


    He reaches one hand down towards me, still holding the plank in the other. I grasp his hand in my good one.


    ¡°Magician!¡± someone shouts.


    I hesitate, glancing around. The crowd might not be advancing, but they¡¯re looking at us with distinct hostility now.


    ¡°He¡¯s fighting against us!¡±


    ¡°Did that girl just call him Edward?¡±


    ¡°It is! It¡¯s him! He even looks like the Black Raven!¡±


    ¡°So what if I am?¡± Edward yells back. ¡°My friend is in danger and I¡¯m going to protect her.¡± He tugs on my hand. I let him pull me up, and immediately feel a surge of pain in my ankle. I¡¯m not going anywhere without his help. It¡¯s as much as I can do to stay on my feet.


    ¡°You¡¯re one of them!¡± a man shouts. ¡°False lord!¡±


    ¡°Magician!¡±


    ¡°Monster!¡±


    ¡°No!¡± I scream. ¡°Edward Blackthorn is my friend, and he is not a monster!¡±


    No-one listens to me.


    Edward releases my hand ¨C I wobble a little but remain upright ¨C and raises his own hand to the sky. ¡°Help!¡± he calls, and a stream of black smoke rises from where he stands. It must be visible from everywhere around us.


    Then he reaches for a second plank and presses it into my good hand.


    No. I can¡¯t.


    I take it from him.


    ¡°He¡¯s summoning monsters!¡±


    ¡°We have to stop him!¡±


    And as if that¡¯s a signal, they¡¯re rushing towards us. I prod a man in the chest with the plank; he barely notices. Maybe I can cast something ¨C but I don¡¯t know any spells that could be useful here ¨C


    Edward moves like a whirlwind around me, fighting with plank and magic both, holding back the mob almost through sheer force of will, but I know he¡¯s not going to be able to keep it up forever. I¡¯m not sure I can even stay standing much longer; each thrust of my plank sends fresh shards of pain through my whole body, and my ankle is barely holding my weight.


    Our circle of safety grows ever smaller. We have minutes, maybe even seconds. I send a desperate prayer that whatever help Edward called for comes quickly. Before it¡¯s too late.


    The world doesn¡¯t quite feel real any more. I know that I could tap into the full power of Malaina if I wanted to, that it is capable of far more than I am. It could save us both easily. Maybe I could control it, guide it, minimise the damage ¨C no.


    No, I¡¯m lying to myself, trying to pretend that what I want so desperately to do won¡¯t claim dozens of lives and send me one step closer to becoming the monster they say Edward is.


    But they¡¯re trying to kill us. It¡¯s self-defence. Killing in self-defence is perfectly legal. I¡¯m only trying to save myself ¨C more than that, to save Edward. Maybe I have the strength to choose death for myself, but I don¡¯t have the strength to choose it for him.


    Edward slips up, inevitably: as he uses his plank to shove back a man getting dangerously close to me, a woman shoves him hard in the back. He recovers well, but the single second he lost is critical. There¡¯s no holding everyone back now.


    This is it. Time to choose.


    ¡°Richard Blackbeard.¡±


    And the man advancing towards me seems to bounce off the air between us and goes sprawling backwards, knocking into the woman behind him and tripping her off her feet as well. All around our little circle, our attackers fall back in the same way.


    For a moment I think it¡¯s me, that I drew on the power of Malaina without even realising it. Then I see the scarlet-robed man standing beside us.


    Lord Blackthorn has just teleported into the tiniest of gaps in the crowd and cast a powerful shielding spell around the two of us in an instant.


    My plank falls from my hand.


    I thought I understood how scary he could be, that day on the Abbey steps. This is different. He¡¯s tense yet confident, prepared for anything and utterly furious. ¡°Are you hurt?¡± he asks, not even having to shout to be heard over the crowd ¨C though he can¡¯t be magically amplifying his voice, not while maintaining the shield.


    ¡°Bruises,¡± Edward replies. ¡°Tallulah is worse. I don¡¯t know how bad ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not dying,¡± I choke out, finding a lump in my throat and my eyes stinging with tears of pure relief. ¡°But it hurts. A lot. I don¡¯t think I can walk.¡±


    ¡°You have to get her to a doctor ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I have to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Dad!¡±


    I see it a second after Edward does: Lord Blackthorn is standing outside the shield he created, and that makes him vulnerable. A brave man charges out from the crowd towards him ¨C wielding some sort of blade ¨C


    Lord Blackthorn doesn¡¯t even turn around. The blade never touches him; it reaches his robes and then slips off harmlessly. Then he turns and raises his hand almost contemptuously.


    The man lifts into the air and hangs there, legs scrambling for footing that isn¡¯t there, a couple of feet above the ground.


    But that shouldn¡¯t be possible. Either he¡¯s dropped the shield protecting us, which is unlikely, or ¨C or he¡¯s simultaneously casting.


    Stars, no wonder Edward thought of Electra being secretly multi-School; his own father is.


    ¡°Did you think that would work?¡± Lord Blackthorn asks his would-be killer. He sounds genuinely curious.


    The man is trembling, his legs still whirling in a fruitless attempt to touch the ground. ¡°M-mercy,¡± he chokes out. ¡°Please. I have children ¨C ¡°


    ¡°So do I.¡± Lord Blackthorn¡¯s words are ice given voice. He reaches into his robes and pulls out a small dagger.


    The man¡¯s face pales, his eyes fix on the blade. ¡°No! Please! Don¡¯t! I¡¯m sorry, I swear ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    It takes me a second to realise I¡¯m the one who¡¯s spoken.


    Lord Blackthorn turns to face me with exaggerated slowness. ¡°Why should I?¡±


    And I¡¯m standing on the Abbey steps once more. Persuade me. Only I¡¯m even less prepared than I was then, and the task is still as impossible as ever. I can¡¯t do this.


    As if brought on by that thought, my legs finally give way beneath me and I collapse.


    Or I would have collapsed if Edward hadn¡¯t caught me. Instead I fall back into his arms and let him take my weight. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± he says.


    And fool that I am, I believe him. Because his presence has just given me the answer I need. ¡°These people tried to kill Edward,¡± I say, hoping my voice will hold out for as long as this will take. ¡°They called him a monster, a false lord. Because he is your son.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn is silent, his expression carefully blank. I might be making the biggest and last mistake of my life. Still, I¡¯ve started now; I might as well finish.


    ¡°I know you love him. I know you want the best for him. But your reputation puts him in danger. People will hurt him because they think you are a monster.¡±


    ¡°I am a monster. I have to be.¡±


    It takes me a moment to find the right words. I¡¯m running on instinct and my best guesses here; if I only had a quill and a few minutes¡­ but I don¡¯t. I have to do the best I can with what I do have: my mind and my voice. ¡°Do you? Have you considered a different way?¡±


    Close by, a battle still rages between the mob and the guards, and people are still fleeing. But here in our little circle, there¡¯s silence.


    ¡°What would you have me do?¡± he asks. ¡°He tried to kill me. If I let him go, he might do the same again.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t ¨C I swear, I won¡¯t ¨C ¡° The man¡¯s eyes are fixed on me. Pleading. Desperately hopeful. I can¡¯t bear it.


    ¡°He is not a threat to you,¡± I say simply. ¡°What good would it do to kill him?¡±


    ¡°It would only give people more cause to hate and fear you,¡± Edward adds.


    I blink up at him. His words are true enough, but what matters is the intent behind them. He¡¯s choosing a side here. Choosing me over his father.


    And Lord Blackthorn knows that too.


    ¡°Is that what you want?¡± I ask. ¡°Do you want Edward to forever live in your shadow, always afraid of what those who hate and fear you would do to him given the chance?¡±


    There¡¯s another long moment of silence. I wonder whether I¡¯ve gone too far. What he might do, if pushed too far.


    Then Lord Blackthorn moves: he jerks his hand downwards, letting his victim fall. Before the man even hits the ground, he takes two quick strides towards us, grabs Edward¡¯s hand and turns on the spot.


    And the crowd, the noise, the remnants of the sausage roll stall vanish as we disappear into an awful, wrong darkness in which we don''t belong.

 46. Elspeth

    I squeeze my eyes shut and try not to think. It¡¯s only a few seconds later that we land on a hard floor. Well, Edward lands on the floor; I land on him. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been in this much pain: I can feel every bruise, and my ankle and wrist are throbbing. My body wasn¡¯t made to stand up to a mob.


    ¡°Wait here. I¡¯ll be back as soon as I can.¡±


    I open my eyes just in time to see a flash of scarlet as Lord Blackthorn vanishes.


    We lie there for a while. I¡¯m too exhausted to move or even speak.


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C I¡¯m sorry ¨C can you move? I need to get up.¡±


    Oh, yes. I¡¯m still on top of him. I summon the strength to crawl off Edward and onto a soft rug of some sort. It¡¯s cosy. I¡¯ll just stay here for a while.


    Edward stands and crosses whatever room we¡¯re in, and after a few seconds I hear the light peal of a bell. ¡°Come on,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯ll get you to the sofa. You can be comfortable there.¡±


    ¡°Where are we?¡± I manage to ask.


    Edward crosses back towards me and kneels down by my side. ¡°I¡¯m going to lift you,¡± he says. ¡°It might hurt for a second, but then you¡¯ll be much more comfy. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    He¡¯s stronger than he looks; either that or he¡¯s using magic to help him. I weigh probably about the same as he does, but he doesn¡¯t seem to struggle lifting me. I, on the other hand, hiss in pain as his hand brushes a tender spot. But he sets me down gently on something soft, and he¡¯s right: it¡¯s much more comfy than the floor even with the rug.


    ¡°Welcome,¡± he says, ¡°to Blackthorn Manor. This wasn¡¯t exactly how I¡¯d planned to bring you here, but it can¡¯t be helped.¡±


    ¡°You were planning to bring me here,¡± I say.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it normal for friends to visit each other¡¯s houses?¡±


    I laugh, and then wince. Even laughter hurts. I think I have bruised ribs. Something like that, anyway; I¡¯m not exactly a doctor. ¡°Edward,¡± I say once the pain subsides a little, ¡°nothing about our friendship is remotely normal.¡±


    There are footsteps, and then the creak of a door opening somewhere. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect ¨C ¡° says a woman¡¯s voice, and then ¡°Oh! Edward! What are you doing ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I have an injured friend,¡± Edward interrupts. ¡°And we¡¯ve been ordered to stay here so getting her to a proper doctor isn¡¯t an option. Can you take a look?¡±


    ¡°Of course I can! What happened to them?¡±


    ¡°Tripped over a plank of wood, and then got trampled half to death by a mob,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll live, though.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad to hear it!¡± The woman bustles over to me. She¡¯s about fifty or sixty, with thick, curly white hair and a warm smile. Not the sort of person I expected to find working for Lord Blackthorn. ¡°I don¡¯t want anyone dying on my watch! I¡¯m Elspeth, Lord Blackthorn¡¯s housekeeper. And you are?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah. I¡¯m Edward¡¯s classmate.¡±


    ¡°Edward, dear, run and get the medical supplies, would you? It¡¯s very nice to meet you, Tallulah. Any friend of Edward¡¯s is a friend of mine. Now, can you tell me what hurts?¡± She drags a nearby stool over to the sofa and sits down.


    ¡°¡­everything?¡±


    Elspeth might not be a proper doctor, but she¡¯s calm and competent. She judges my wrist and ankle to both be sprained ¨C magical healing can fix at least the wrist, apparently ¨C and while she¡¯s less confident on what¡¯s happened to my ribs it seems to not be a critical injury.


    ¡°I can¡¯t afford magical healing, though.¡±


    Elspeth laughs. ¡°If I know Edward, he won¡¯t let you stop him paying for it.¡±


    I mentally add a large sum of money to the debt I still owe him for legal fees. We still haven¡¯t agreed an interest rate; maybe we can compromise at zero? ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m afraid of.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. He¡¯s only trying to help. And he might not be able to fix most problems, but he can throw large sums of money at them. So let him. Do you think you could lift your shirt up again? I want another look at those bruises.¡±


    By the time she¡¯s done that, Edward has returned: either the supplies were close by or he took her instructions to run very literally. ¡°Here,¡± he says.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Elspeth takes the suitcase from him, sets it down on her lap, and removes a tiny vial of dark liquid. ¡°This will help with the pain, if you want it.¡± She holds it out to me.


    I take it and then realise that with only one working hand I have no way of uncorking it. I hold it out to Edward, who takes it but makes no move to uncork it.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a cure,¡± he says.


    ¡°I know that.¡±


    ¡°Right. Just¡­ it¡¯s always best to know exactly what something will do before you take it. This just¡­ supresses pain for a few hours. The side effects aren¡¯t that bad. You might feel a bit sick or get a headache, but that¡¯s about it. The most dangerous thing about it is that it supresses pain.¡±


    ¡°What d¡¯you mean?¡±


    Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°The body¡¯s pain sensors exist for a reason. You¡¯ll naturally assume that if it doesn¡¯t hurt, nothing¡¯s wrong with it, which might mean you try to walk on that leg. And that isn¡¯t going to work, and it could make an injury a lot worse. It¡¯s meant for emergencies only. If you don¡¯t have a choice but to push through it, this can make it worlds easier.¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t an emergency, though.¡± I hate to point out the obvious, especially since making the pain go away sounds exactly what I want right now.


    ¡°If I know Lord Blackthorn, you¡¯ll be having a very thorough conversation about this riot when he next deigns to show up,¡± Elspeth says. ¡°And trust me, you do not want to be in agony during that conversation.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to waste your supplies ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You are not a waste of supplies,¡± Edward says with surprising passion. ¡°Anyway, we have a full bottle and it¡¯s easy to obtain more. Well, easy if you¡¯re Lord Blackthorn, that is.¡±


    By which he means highly restricted, ridiculously expensive or both.


    ¡°Want it?¡± Edward asks.


    I hesitate for a second before nodding.


    ¡°Good.¡± He uncorks the vial and holds it out to me; I take it in my good hand and raise it to my lips.


    ¡°I should warn you it tastes horrid.¡±


    I¡¯m already pouring the liquid into my mouth when he speaks. It¡¯s thicker than I expected, and I recoil and fight not to gag when the taste hits me. It¡¯s not that awful; the texture is what¡¯s horrid. It¡¯s slimy. Stuff you drink isn¡¯t supposed to be slimy. I choke it down bit by bit.


    Edward is struggling to hold back laughter; the expression on my face is doubtless hilarious to anyone who hasn¡¯t just had a mouthful of slime.


    ¡°Don¡¯t just stand there laughing! Fetch her some water to wash away the taste!¡±


    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am.¡± Instead of running off again, Edward simply takes a small empty glass from the supply kit and conjures it full of fresh water. ¡°Here.¡±


    I set down the empty vial and take the glass. Swilling it around my mouth isn¡¯t pleasant, since I find traces of slime, but it¡¯s worth it to be rid of the awful aftertaste. ¡°Does this just work by tasting so bad the pain seems insignificant?¡± I ask, only half joking.


    It¡¯s not a particularly good joke, but Edward laughs anyway. ¡°Well, do you still feel awful?¡±


    ¡°Actually¡­ no.¡± I didn¡¯t notice initially, maybe because of the taste, but now I think about the pain it¡¯s not anywhere near as bad. More a dull ache than the sharp intense pain of a minute ago. ¡°Thank you. And thank you, Elspeth.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. Now, tell me about this mob.¡±


    Edward briefly sketches out the story of what happened at the execution. He downplays his own heroics, but other than that his account is accurate; I chip in with the occasional detail. When we get to the man who tried to stab Lord Blackthorn, I feel a sudden chill. I¡¯d forgotten him between the pain and the shock of being teleported.


    But what¡¯s to stop him from just teleporting right back to where he was and stabbing the man without me being there to see? I doubt he¡¯d have any moral qualms about it, judging by his recent actions. Maybe I didn¡¯t save him at all. Maybe my little speech accomplished nothing.


    That thought hurts worse than any pain.


    ¡°¡­and then he teleported us here and immediately left,¡± Edward concludes.


    ¡°And isn¡¯t that just typical of the man,¡± Elspeth adds.


    ¡°Well, I suppose there is an ongoing crisis, and dealing with it is in his job description¡­¡±


    ¡°Surely he could at least spare a couple of minutes to check that his own son is okay after nearly being stars-damned killed!¡±


    Edward does seem surprisingly okay, now she mentions it. Physically, yes, but I don¡¯t think he once came close to a Malaina episode during all that. ¡°Elspeth, I¡¯ve told you before. You don¡¯t have to get indignant on my behalf. I¡¯m used to it.¡±


    ¡°And a crying shame that is,¡± she says.


    I like her.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­ not what I would have expected of Lord Blackthorn¡¯s housekeeper,¡± I say carefully.


    ¡°You mean I¡¯m sane and sensible,¡± Elspeth says. ¡°Well, someone has to be. Otherwise he¡¯d have got himself killed a decade ago. Besides, I¡¯ve had worse bosses who didn¡¯t pay half as well.¡±


    ¡°You should hear some of her stories,¡± Edward adds, and then continues awkwardly ¡°that is, if Elspeth doesn¡¯t mind telling you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No offence, Tallulah. You seem like a great girl, and I trust Edward¡¯s judgement. But¡­ we did only meet a few minutes ago. I can¡¯t just ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Secrets. I get it. Comes with the territory.¡± Though I didn¡¯t expect even the housekeeper to have them.


    Elspeth smiles. ¡°Thank you. Is there anything else I can do ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You mean order me to do ¨C ¡°


    ¡°¨C to make you comfortable?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°You¡¯ve done more than enough already. Though I¡¯d appreciate Edward¡¯s company, if he doesn¡¯t mind being ordered to stay with me.¡±


    ¡°I do not need an order to stay with you.¡±


    ¡°If you two are sure you¡¯re okay without me, then, I¡¯ll get back to work. Could I get that glass, please, Tallulah?¡±


    I realise I¡¯m still holding the water Edward conjured. I drain the last of it and give Elspeth the empty glass; she packs it and the discarded vial back into the supply case and snaps it shut. ¡°Just ring for me if either of you need anything, all right?¡±


    ¡°Right.¡±


    ¡°Well, actually¡­¡± Edward says slowly.


    ¡°Just spit it out, boy,¡± Elspeth says, not unkindly.


    ¡°Would you happen to have a plate of cinnamon bites on hand?¡±


    Elspeth laughs. ¡°One plate of cinnamon bites coming right up.¡± She stands and bustles away.


    ¡°You have not lived,¡± Edward says, smiling to himself, ¡°until you¡¯ve tried Elspeth¡¯s cinnamon bites.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to let me have any?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ maybe one.¡± Edward takes the seat Elspeth vacated. ¡°So. Your company is here. What would you have me do?¡±


    I laugh, and then have an idea. ¡°Could you tell me about your family history?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s a pretty broad topic. And I don¡¯t actually know that much ¨C more than anyone who isn¡¯t part of the family, but I haven¡¯t spent much time on it.¡± He throws his hands in the air. ¡°You can arrest me for heresy now.¡±


    ¡°I could be persuaded to show mercy in exchange for information.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve corrupted you, haven¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°I guess you have. Do we have a deal?¡±


    ¡°Ask your questions.¡±


    I laugh again, at the sheer absurdity of it all. Then I take a second to think before asking ¡°Was Richard Blackthorn Philippa the Bright¡¯s secret lover?¡±


    ¡°If he was, it wasn¡¯t a very good secret if people are still talking about it eight hundred years later.¡±


    ¡°Was Richard Blackthorn Philippa the Bright¡¯s not-very-well-kept-secret lover?¡± I correct.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I honestly don¡¯t know. There might be an answer in the library, I haven¡¯t been through his journals except to briefly look at some of his spellwork.¡±


    ¡°Take me to your library.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah, you can¡¯t walk.¡±


    ¡°I feel fine,¡± I protest.


    ¡°That¡¯s the painkillers talking. You¡¯re in agony really, and your legs are not going to manage a flight of stairs.¡±


    ¡°Then get me there some other way. Levitate me on a stretcher. I don¡¯t care. Just get me there."


    "I can¡¯t take non-family-members there.¡±


    ¡°I promise I won¡¯t look at anything your dad doesn¡¯t want me to.¡±


    ¡°No, I literally can¡¯t. There¡¯s a ward preventing anyone who isn¡¯t a Blackthorn from entering.¡±


    ¡°So subvert the ward.¡±


    ¡°You do remember what I told you about my knowledge of ward-breaking?¡±


    My knowledge of ward-breaking doesn¡¯t go much beyond the Explosion Theory and is entirely theoretical. On second thoughts, perhaps applying that method of ward-breaking to a roomful of precious books might not be the best idea. ¡°Marry me.¡±


    He throws up his hands. ¡°Hold on. I think this has gone a bit too far. You want to marry me for my library?¡±


    ¡°There are worse reasons to marry someone.¡± I manage to keep a straight face for a full ten seconds before I burst out laughing.


    ¡°I really thought you were serious for a moment.¡±


    ¡°I would be if I thought your dad would ever agree to it.¡±


    And despite everything we¡¯ve just survived, for this brief moment I¡¯m happy.

 47. Father and Son

    Edward wasn¡¯t exaggerating about how good the cinnamon bites taste: they''re soft and light with such a sweet cinnamon-y taste. He even lets me have more than one.


    After an hour and a half of my interrogating him on his family history ¨C it¡¯s fascinating, and I wish I had notes or books to cross-reference everything he mentions ¨C there¡¯s only one cinnamon bite left. I stare longingly at it and wish Edward hadn¡¯t put the plate just out of my reach.


    He sees the direction of my gaze and shakes his head. ¡°I¡¯m saving the last one for my dad. I think he¡¯s going to need it after¡­ well.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me.¡±


    ¡°He will remind you when he gets here. I¡¯ll try and get him to be nice, but¡­¡±


    But there is a limit to how nice Lord Blackthorn is capable of being. At least I¡¯m not likely to have a Malaina episode, having come so close to the edge before. ¡°Fine¡­¡± I mutter. ¡°But he¡¯d better arrive soon. I¡¯m not sure how much longer I can resist the temptation.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to,¡± Edward says. ¡°I warded the plate so we can¡¯t touch it.¡±


    ¡°¡­you can cast wards?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°That¡¯s about the limit of my capabilities right now. I¡¯ve only been teaching myself warding for a few days.¡±


    I laugh. He really doesn¡¯t understand how extraordinary he is, does he?


    ¡°Speaking of magic,¡± he says, ¡°how would you like another lesson in triggered enchantments?¡±


    ¡°Is this really the best time?¡± I ask.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised. Often when you¡¯ve just had a near-death experience you feel as if you could do anything. That feeling is very useful when it comes to casting difficult new magic.¡±


    I stare at him for a long moment. ¡°There are so many things wrong with that I don¡¯t even know where to start.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to deliberately seek out near-death experiences to learn new magic, don¡¯t worry. Enough of my ancestors died doing that to teach the survivors that it was a stupid idea.¡±


    He¡¯s serious, I realise. Sometimes it feels like his family are a completely different species to the rest of us. ¡°I don¡¯t feel like that,¡± I say. ¡°Not at all.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I do, a little. I think that¡¯s why the warding worked so well just now. Just knowing we¡¯re both safe is magical.¡±


    ¡°Go ahead and teach yourself something, then. I¡¯ll watch.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I will,¡± he says. ¡°I just need to ¨C ¡°


    And then there¡¯s a flash of scarlet and Lord Blackthorn is standing on the rug in front of us.


    ¡°How is she?¡± he asks Edward, not even needing a second to find his footing after teleporting.


    ¡°She¡¯ll live. Though it¡¯s best she gets to a doctor sooner rather than later.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be quick, then. What in stars¡¯ names were you thinking?¡±


    Edward hesitates, glancing at me.


    ¡°¡­that we wanted to go to the execution?¡± I try.


    Lord Blackthorn sighs and reaches for the last cinnamon bite. His hand bounces off the air a few inches above the plate. He claws at the air and then jerks his hand back. When he reaches for the bite again nothing stops him, and he slips it into his mouth.


    He doesn¡¯t seem particularly impressed with his son¡¯s achievement.


    ¡°And why didn¡¯t you tell me that was your intention?¡±


    Oh. That is why Edward hesitated. Because now we have to explain it to him. This time I glance to him.


    ¡°Because¡­¡± he begins. ¡°Because I wanted to see the consequences. Of what we did. Of what you did.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn shrugs. ¡°He was a traitor. And his daughter is no better.¡±


    Does he just¡­ not care, at all? Does he not even feel regret at the loss of a life?


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t make your response right.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re free. You¡¯re safe. Justice has been served. That is what¡¯s right. It¡¯s beside the point now, though. So you went to the execution, without telling me. And when the riot broke out you¡­¡±


    ¡°Tried to get out,¡± Edward says. ¡°Only I lost Tallulah in the crowd.¡±


    ¡°And you went back for her.¡±


    ¡°I had to.¡±


    ¡°Do you have no regard for your personal safety?¡± Lord Blackthorn asks. His tone is calm, but there¡¯s an all-too-familiar edge to it.


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    ¡°Some risks are worth taking,¡± Edward says flatly.


    ¡°Edward. Your life is more important than ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Than Tallulah¡¯s?¡± Edward snaps, and now he too speaks with that deceptively mild intensity. ¡°That was what you were going to say, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°How dare you even suggest such a thing. I regret nothing about what I did today. I would die for Tallulah.¡±


    He means it. There¡¯s no denying that after what he did today. He could have just left me and hoped I¡¯d find my own way out, but instead he came back for me. He risked everything to defend me.


    What have I done to deserve that kind of loyalty?


    ¡°You would,¡± Lord Blackthorn says with detached curiosity. He turns to study me. ¡°I suppose there are worse choices. Well, then we shall simply have to make sure you have no need to die for her. I can have a set of emergency enchantments delivered to you, Tallulah, by the end of next week ¨C sooner, with luck, but dealing with the aftermath of this riot is going to drain a lot of time ¨C and I¡¯ll see about teaching you some basic defensive spells ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I learnt the ones you showed me from the textbook,¡± Edward interrupts. ¡°I can teach Tallulah ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I say. ¡°Emergency enchantments? Defensive spells? I don¡¯t want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°This isn¡¯t about what you want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°This is his way of saying he approves of our friendship,¡± Edward says. ¡°Just go along with it.¡±


    It¡¯s a funny way of showing he approves of me. But then, I suppose I shouldn¡¯t be surprised given who he is. ¡°O¡­kay,¡± I say slowly. ¡°But you¡¯re not giving me anything enchanted without explaining exactly what it does.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Lord Blackthorn replies.


    ¡°And I¡¯m ¨C I¡¯m a normal person. I¡¯m not like you or Edward. Just¡­ please, don¡¯t expect me to be.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°If you wanted to stay normal, you¡¯ve made poor choices.¡±


    By which he means: being a normal person and having Edward Blackthorn for a best friend are mutually exclusive. He¡¯s wrong. Stars, I hope he¡¯s wrong. ¡°What I mean,¡± I try, ¡°is that I¡¯m not ¨C not one of your people.¡±


    ¡°I never asked you to be. I know you don¡¯t particularly like me, but as long as you don¡¯t force me to save you again ¨C ¡°


    I can¡¯t take it any more. ¡°You do understand,¡± I say, ¡°that you would never have had to save me at all if you had just spared Mildred¡¯s father?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to blame me for events that I could have not predicted, which were as much your own fault as mine.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Edward snaps, ¡°try to blame Tallulah for this. You did this. Thought nothing of throwing away two weeks of Tallulah¡¯s life just so you could get the outcome you wanted. Do you know what that did to her? I do.¡±


    ¡°And instead, you would have me allow a traitor to live.¡±


    Yes. But he¡¯s not talking to me.


    Edward hesitates. ¡°If it were me, I would have.¡±


    ¡°With respect, Edward, you are sixteen years old. You are not a politician, or a spy, or a person of power.¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You are not qualified to make these decisions.¡±


    I hate him. Stars, I hate him, but saying that to his face in his own house will not end well. I focus on breathing slowly, calmly.


    ¡°Then teach me,¡± says Edward. ¡°Explain it to me.¡±


    I don¡¯t want an explanation. I don¡¯t want anything from him. If this is what Edward needs to hear, though, I¡¯ll listen. It¡¯s not as if I can go anywhere, after all.


    ¡°Very well,¡± says Lord Blackthorn. ¡°Let¡¯s suppose that immediately upon finding out about the incident in the library, I contact Mildred offering her the deal she wants. What does that lead to?¡±


    I¡¯m guessing the answer he¡¯s looking for isn¡¯t her father lives, she drops the charges against me, everyone is happy. Though that does seem the likely outcome. Am I just na?ve?


    ¡°She knows she has leverage,¡± Edward says grimly. ¡°Something you want. You don¡¯t yield to blackmail, ever, not unless you¡¯re sure you can break whatever hold they have.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn nods. ¡°Maybe she¡¯d want his freedom, too. For him to be found innocent, given compensation for the inconvenience of it all. And once she has that, why not demand I promote laws restoring some of the old families¡¯ privileges? Not that that would work,¡± he adds, smiling wryly. ¡°I¡¯ve found that if I wish a particular law to pass it is often more effective to declare my fervent opposition to it.¡±


    That seems surprisingly plausible: Lord Blackthorn is unpopular enough that many people would vote against a law purely on the basis that he supported it.


    ¡°But that¡¯s besides the point. You see what I mean?¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°But couldn¡¯t you have¡­ done something else? Couldn¡¯t you have accused Mildred of baiting Tallulah into her episode ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Legal proceedings for something of that nature would take much time, and likely be delayed until after the hearing. And besides: where is the evidence?¡±


    There must be some way of proving it, surely? But when I consider it, I remember that Mildred and I were the only people in the library that day. And when the only witness is also the defendant, there¡¯s no reason a court should believe me rather than assume I¡¯m lying to deny responsibility for my own loss of control.


    ¡°Rosie,¡± says Edward. ¡°She was outside the library. Wouldn¡¯t she have seen ¨C ¡°


    ¡°A little. Not enough to prove it beyond reasonable doubt. And she also has the disadvantage of being my niece, which given my reputation means her testimony would not be believed. Are you satisfied?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m satisfied that what you did was the best way to guarantee my freedom,¡± I say before Edward can speak. ¡°But¡­ there was nothing stopping you from telling me this as soon as you¡¯d made your decision.¡±


    ¡°Knowledge is power. It must not be spread too widely. There is a saying, you know: two can keep a secret, if one of them is dead.¡±


    I stare at him in silence. Every time he starts to make sense, he says something like this and I wonder why I ever thought I could understand him.


    ¡°Tallulah can keep secrets,¡± Edward says. ¡°She¡¯s kept mine.¡±


    ¡°You told her ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Nothing that secret.¡±


    ¡°What, precisely, have you told her?¡±


    Edward closes his eyes in thought for a second. ¡°About the likelihood of war with Sirgal. That you warned me to stay away from Mildred before the Cavendish arrest. She worked that out herself, though, at least partly. And I didn¡¯t tell her until afterwards. Nothing else specific, but¡­ a few details about you. I do understand security.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn grimaces. ¡°I suppose it could be worse. Tallulah, I take it you understand the consequences of letting anyone have that information, for any reason?¡±


    ¡°It would be a betrayal of Edward¡¯s trust. I would lose his friendship.¡± I know he¡¯s thinking more in terms of treason and national security and things like that, but I want to make a point: I¡¯m Edward¡¯s friend. I¡¯m loyal to him, and very much not to his father.


    ¡°Friendship,¡± Lord Blackthorn repeats, making it sound like an insult.


    ¡°Friendship,¡± Edward repeats. ¡°It¡¯s what it¡¯s called when you have a close emotional relationship with another person.¡±


    ¡°I know what friends are,¡± he says, and his voice takes on that faint edge of danger again.


    The tension is broken by Elspeth, entering the room at a run. ¡°My lord. His Majesty demands your presence at once.¡±


    ¡°Then my presence he shall have,¡± Lord Blackthorn says flatly. ¡°I¡¯ll have those enchantments to you by the end of the week, Tallulah. Do try not to get yourself killed before then.¡±


    And, once again, he spins around and vanishes.

 48. Hero

    Edward and I don¡¯t talk about that conversation that day. Instead he gets me a doctor. The diagnosis is pretty much what I expected ¨C I¡¯m badly bruised and have a broken rib, but I¡¯ll live. He resets the rib with magic, which hurts a lot less than I expected. I¡¯m given crutches and painkillers and prescribed a lack of strenuous activity for the next week.


    Assuming climbing way too many stairs doesn¡¯t count as strenuous activity, that shouldn¡¯t pose any difficulty. I¡¯m relieved; it could have been so, so much worse. I know I¡¯ll never forget those moments when I had to choose between death and destruction.


    Maybe Elizabeth was right when she called me a survivor. Or maybe it¡¯s sheer luck that means I¡¯m still here when many others aren¡¯t. Ten people died during the riot, according to the next morning¡¯s front pages (which Edward and I read together over breakfast as usual) and many more were injured or arrested.


    It reminds me that I didn¡¯t ask Lord Blackthorn whether he killed the man who tried to assassinate him. Perhaps it¡¯s better that I don¡¯t know.


    The royal family and their Magicians were unharmed, between the efforts of the guards and the fact five of the strongest magicians in the country were more than capable of creating a barrier that could protect them. It makes me wonder whether they could have protected others as well.


    And a single sentence at the end of the article, after everything we¡¯ve been through, notes that the former Lord Cavendish was quietly executed once the riot had been quelled.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, digging my spoon into my porridge bowl, ¡°at least it¡¯s over now.¡±


    Edward nods and turns to page two. Then he stops. ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says in a strange tone.


    ¡°What?¡±


    He shows me the headline. ¡°MYSTERY GIRL¡± PERSUADES BLACK RAVEN TO SHOW MERCY.


    Beneath it is a sketch of two people glaring at each other. One is a man in a scarlet cloak clearly intended to be Lord Blackthorn. The other is a dark-skinned teenage girl, looking exhausted but defiant. Beyond the skin colour it¡¯s not a particularly good likeness, but there¡¯s no doubt of who it¡¯s supposed to represent.


    ¡°Stars,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°This one isn¡¯t your fault,¡± I say numbly, and continue to read the article. It describes yesterday¡¯s events in reasonably accurate terms. Lord Blackthorn¡¯s son and a mysterious girl who was with him were caught up in the riot, and nearly died before he came to rescue them. He would have slaughtered everyone who dared attack his son ¨C I grimace ¨C if the girl hadn¡¯t intervened and begged him to stop.


    She was so brave, an eyewitness reports. She was badly injured ¨C could barely stand ¨C and yet she faced down the Black Raven himself. I owe her my life. I don¡¯t know who she is or what¡¯s happened to her. I¡¯m afraid for her, to be honest ¨C everyone knows what he does to those who defy him.


    I stare at the page in uncomprehending silence. ¡°He thinks ¨C he thinks your dad had me murdered?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not out of character for the popular perception of him,¡± Edward says flatly.


    And it gets worse: the article ends with a plea for anyone who has information about who this mystery girl is and what happened to her after she disappeared with the Black Raven to come forward.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Edward, ¡°what do we do now?¡±


    I can¡¯t think about that. I can¡¯t think about anything. I don¡¯t want this. ¡°¡­why?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Every story needs a hero,¡± he says. ¡°And after what you did yesterday, you¡¯re a natural choice.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not a hero,¡± I say. ¡°I just ¨C I couldn¡¯t watch him die.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a quote,¡± Edward says. ¡°From Starlight and Snowfall.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve seen that?¡± I ask, surprised. It¡¯s a famous play which depicts the events of the last few months of the First Civil War. It¡¯s somewhat controversial for the way it depicts Philippa the Bright as something other than a shining beacon of goodness. Just because her enemy was the worst and evillest king the country has ever had doesn¡¯t make her perfect, so the play argues.


    ¡°My dad says it has important lessons about politics.¡±


    Of course. I don¡¯t know what I was expecting. I think I know the quote he¡¯s thinking about: Philippa, to Richard Blackthorn after Lucius¡¯s death, after he denied being a hero in much the same way I just did. ¡°Every hero who has ever lived denied being a hero. I¡¯m still not one, though. Isn¡¯t it a logical fallacy to assume that that means everyone who¡¯s denied being a hero is one?¡±


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    Edward laughs. ¡°That¡¯s beside the point. In the papers¡¯ world, you are a hero. But that¡¯s going to change as soon as they find out that you¡¯re actually on speaking terms with my dad and don¡¯t see him as a monster at all.¡±


    I bite my tongue. Contesting that last point isn¡¯t likely to end well, and even if Lord Blackthorn is a monster he¡¯s not the kind the papers say he is. ¡°If he¡¯s the villain,¡± I say, ¡°then that makes me one by association?¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°But¡­ can¡¯t I just¡­ not talk to the papers?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°You can, but that means the rumours will win out. And it won¡¯t take long for them to track you down ¨C there¡¯s enough people here who know you it¡¯s not realistic to persuade each and every one of them not to talk ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m not that well-known,¡± I protest. ¡°It¡¯s only the teachers and our class ¨C and my dorm-mates, I suppose ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You underestimate the power of gossip, and of my infamy. How many people do you think have asked who¡¯s that girl who always hangs around with Edward Blackthorn? And even if it were that simple, there¡¯s at least one person we won¡¯t be able to persuade.¡±


    Oh. ¡°Mildred.¡±


    He nods.


    ¡°Then¡­ what do I do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Well, that¡¯s helpful. If he doesn¡¯t know, how am I supposed to?


    I start by finishing my Magical Theory homework, and then curl up with my current pile of books. It hurts to walk too far with my crutches, and since I don¡¯t have to I stay in the study room the entire day except for mealtimes.


    Edward joins me in the afternoon and insists on another extracurricular magic lesson. I could use the distraction, to be honest, so I don¡¯t fight him too hard.


    ¡°We could start work on the defensive spells? Practicing properly would involve more exercise than you¡¯re supposed to have, and we don¡¯t have containment wards here, but we could go through the theory¡­ or not,¡± he says, seeing the look on my face.


    ¡°Or not,¡± I agree. ¡°I will learn them. If your dad insists on it. But I don¡¯t plan on needing them, so ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Did you plan on nearly dying in a riot yesterday?¡±


    I flinch.


    ¡°Sorry. Too soon. But you see my point. Unfortunately I¡¯m the sort of person who tends to attract danger, and if you insist on being my friend despite every reason you shouldn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    I laugh. ¡°It¡¯s a bit late for that, now. I don¡¯t think I thanked you. For saving my life.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°You¡¯re welcome, I suppose. But don¡¯t feel like you owe me anything. Don¡¯t feel like you have to stay my friend because I saved you. I didn¡¯t do it for any of those reasons. I did it because I couldn¡¯t let you die while there was anything I could do to prevent it.¡±


    ¡°And that,¡± I say, ¡°is why I¡¯m not going to abandon you. Not now, not ever.¡±


    ¡°So,¡± he says after a moment¡¯s silence. ¡°Triggered enchantments?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget you said you¡¯d try to make enchantments that can be triggered by any magician,¡± he adds, smirking a little.


    ¡°I did, didn¡¯t I? Fine. Let¡¯s do it.¡±


    It¡¯s not as hard as I was expecting; certainly not as hard as the first time I tried a delayed-action permanent enchantment. It takes me six attempts. Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯ve improved a lot under Edward¡¯s tuition; maybe it¡¯s just that this leap isn¡¯t as hard as the last. Or maybe it¡¯s because now, after the conversation we just had, I believe in myself a little more.


    ¡°Good work. Your form could use a few minor adjustments, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°She¡¯s here! We found her!¡±


    I flinch, and my heart skips a beat before I recognise Elsie¡¯s voice. She jogs into the study room, followed closely by Elizabeth and Robin.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I told you she was okay,¡± Robin says, rolling her eyes. ¡°We share a dorm, remember? I saw her last night.¡±


    Oh. That¡¯s what this is about.


    Edward gives me a look of silent encouragement. I nod to him. I can do this. These people know and like me. I can think of this as a test. ¡°Seriously,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m fine. Well ¨C not really ¨C ¡° I gesture to my crutches. ¡°But that was the mob. Not Edward¡¯s dad. He didn¡¯t hurt me at all.¡±


    ¡°Did you really stop him from killing dozens of people?¡± Elsie asks eagerly.


    I shake my head. ¡°One person. And the man tried to kill him first.¡±


    ¡°He tried to assassinate Lord Blackthorn?¡± Robin says. ¡°I was going to congratulate you, but I take it back. Anyone who¡¯d do that is too stupid to live.¡±


    Edward laughs a little. I force myself to join in, even though I don¡¯t find it the slightest bit funny.


    ¡°I still think you did the right thing,¡± Elsie says. ¡°You were so brave.¡±


    There¡¯s a faint note of awe in her voice that I hate a little.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t,¡± I say, ignoring Edward¡¯s undignified snort. ¡°It just¡­ happened.¡± Then, inspiration hits: ¡°Edward was the brave one. He saved my life. Held back the mob single-handedly.¡±


    He glares at me. ¡°You helped.¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°Tell me my poking people with a plank really made a difference.¡±


    ¡°Your poking people with a plank really made a difference,¡± Edward says immediately and flatly.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you say what you mean next time, then?¡± It sounds harsh, but he¡¯s smiling.


    ¡°Can we stop trading banter and get to the point?¡± Elizabeth asks. ¡°What actually happened?¡±


    ¡°We went to the execution,¡± I say. ¡°There was a riot. We tried to get out but I lost Edward in the crowd and then tripped. I think I would have died if Edward hadn¡¯t come back for me.¡±


    ¡°But I had to visibly use magic to give her space,¡± Edward adds, ¡°and I was recognised ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I called you by your name,¡± I remember with a stab of guilt.


    ¡°You were in an immensely stressful situation, and you¡¯re not exactly an experienced spy. Don¡¯t blame yourself for that.¡±


    Not an experienced spy. That is an understatement. I¡¯m not a spy at all, and I certainly don¡¯t want to be one. ¡°Anyway,¡± I say to cover my discomfort, ¡°Edward summoned help somehow, but we had to hold them off until his dad got to us. Then he¡­ he was checking we weren¡¯t too badly hurt when someone tried to stab him.¡±


    ¡°That went about as well for the stabber as you can imagine,¡± Edward continues. ¡°And my dad was about to kill him when Tallulah persuaded him to stop. Then he teleported us away, and beyond that I know no more than you do.¡±


    There¡¯s a moment¡¯s silence.


    ¡°Can I¡­ ask you not to talk to anyone about this?¡± I say. ¡°Any journalists, interviewers. I don¡¯t want to be a hero.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± says Elsie. Elizabeth nods.


    ¡°They¡¯ll still find out somehow,¡± Robin says.


    I sigh. ¡°I know. Just¡­ I need more time. To work out what I want to do. Whether I want to get involved at all.¡± I already know the answer to that last one: no, I don¡¯t. It¡¯s just that it doesn¡¯t seem as if that¡¯s an option. So maybe it¡¯s best to do it on my own terms rather than letting Mildred tell my story.


    Or maybe it¡¯s a mistake to give the papers anything, and if I just keep my head down it¡¯ll die down of its own accord.


    I just don¡¯t know.

 49. Headmaster

    All five of us eat dinner together, despite Edward¡¯s reluctance. Just this once, I persuade him. As I¡¯m finishing my portion of stew, a neatly-folded paper note flies up to me. I blink a few times to make sure that it is flying under its own power, and then wonder why I¡¯m so surprised by that and pluck it out of the air.


    ¡°Who¡¯s sending you enchanted notes?¡± asks Elsie, excited.


    I unfold the note. ¡°The headmaster, apparently.¡±


    To Miss Tallulah Roberts, it reads. I would like to meet you and discuss matters of importance to you and to the Academy. Please come to my office on the third floor as soon as possible.


    Yours, and a scrawled signature I think says Anthony something, Headmaster.


    ¡°I imagine it¡¯s about¡­ well. Yesterday, and today.¡±


    ¡°What else?¡± Robin says.


    ¡°I¡¯d offer to come with you,¡± Edward adds, ¡°except I¡¯m fairly sure he hates me. My father and I had a meeting with him when I first arrived here, and, well¡­¡±


    I can imagine the impression Lord Blackthorn is likely to have made. ¡°Thanks anyway,¡± I say, spooning the last of the stew into my mouth. Once I¡¯ve finished my mouthful I stand and push my chair back. ¡°Wish me luck.¡±


    My four friends chorus ¡°Good luck¡± and ¡°You¡¯ll be fine¡± and ¡°Don¡¯t worry¡±.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say, and set off alone for the third floor.


    The headmaster¡¯s office is easy to find, though dragging myself upstairs on crutches is somewhat less easy. His name is Anthony Wright, according to the nameplate on his door. I hesitate for only a second before rapping on the door.


    ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± a voice calls out. I can¡¯t tell anything about the man who owns it; there isn¡¯t a distinguishable accent or intonation.


    ¡°Tallulah Roberts,¡± I reply. ¡°You asked to see me.¡±


    ¡°So I did. Come in.¡±


    I obey him, pushing open the door and stepping inside. His office is filled with books ¨C I force myself not to stare too hard, so all I can tell is that most of them are old and about magical theory of various kinds. The desk is clear of clutter, so I can get a good view of the man sitting on the other side of it. He¡¯s older than I expected ¨C maybe seventy ¨C with thin tufts of white hair ringing a large bald patch, but he¡¯s still heavily-built and muscular.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± he says, gesturing to the chair on the other side of the desk.


    I hobble over to the chair and obey him, leaning my crutches against the chair¡¯s hard wooden back. I feel as if I¡¯m here to be told off, even though I¡¯ve never been summoned to a headmaster or headmistress¡¯s office for that reason before.


    ¡°In the last two hours,¡± he says, ¡°I have received no less than five requests by respected newspapers to comment on the mysterious friend of Edward Blackthorn who dared stand up to the Black Raven himself.¡±


    What I thought, then. ¡°What did you tell them?¡±


    ¡°Nothing, as yet. I thought it best to meet with this mysterious friend before deciding.¡±


    So this is another one of those conversations with far too much at stake if I say the wrong thing. All I need right now. ¡°It was me,¡± I admit. He probably already knows that, but I¡¯d rather just have the facts known than dance around them. ¡°Though it didn¡¯t happen quite how the story said.¡±


    ¡°No doubt. Tell me, then, how it really happened.¡±


    I sketch out the story again, briefly, focusing mainly on correcting the article¡¯s inaccuracies.


    He nods thoughtfully. ¡°You know what the newspapers are like when they have found a story.¡±


    ¡°They won¡¯t let go,¡± I say grimly. ¡°Not until they find a better one.¡±


    ¡°And they will find out who you are, soon enough, whether I tell them or not,¡± he adds. ¡°Which leaves me with¡­ somewhat of a problem.¡±


    It leaves me with a problem. ¡°Which is?¡±


    ¡°As soon as you become known, you represent the Academy and its students in the eyes of the public. And¡­ forgive my saying so, but I don¡¯t think you would be a particularly good representative.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± I ask, but I already know the answer.


    ¡°You attacked one of your classmates during a Malaina episode, and were on trial for instability ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Mildred dropped all charges against me ¨C ¡°


    ¡°The record is still there. And when the papers find it¡­ I doubt you will be their hero for much longer.¡±


    He could have been a lot nicer with his phrasing, but he¡¯s right. It hadn¡¯t even occurred to me. And if they start investigating the details of that case, and wondering why Mildred dropped the charges¡­ who knows what secrets that could reveal.


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    This is bad. ¡°What¡­ what do you suggest I do about it?


    He closes his eyes in thought for a moment. ¡°There is little you can do. Start practicing your story. Be sure you can control yourself, and do not allow yourself to have another active episode. You¡¯ll have to give them an interview, naturally ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I have to?¡± I repeat numbly. I don¡¯t want to. I don¡¯t care about what this will do to the Academy¡¯s reputation.


    ¡°That¡¯s the only way to show them that you are human and not consumed by Malaina, and if you play it right it could really salvage things. And of course you¡¯ll need to sever all contact with Edward Blackthorn ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°¡­excuse me?¡±


    I can¡¯t back down. Not from this. Not after everything. ¡°No. I will not sever all contact with Edward Blackthorn.¡±


    ¡°You have to understand, though. Being connected to the name of Blackthorn marks you out as a villain, and we can¡¯t have the interview being consumed by that. Besides, it¡¯s for your own good; nothing good can come of associating with that family. Either they¡¯ll get you hurt worse than they already have ¨C ¡°


    ¡°This wasn¡¯t Edward¡¯s fault! He saved my life!¡±


    ¡°Or they¡¯ll corrupt you. You¡¯ll become nothing more than another tiny piece in the Black Raven¡¯s grand schemes.¡±


    ¡°What use,¡± I ask, trying to summon the intensity I¡¯ve heard in Edward¡¯s voice, ¡°could he have for me?¡±


    He laughs bitterly. ¡°What use could the Black Raven have for the girl famous for standing up to him? Please, try not to be entirely na?ve.¡±


    That is a valid point, though again the delivery hurts.


    ¡°I¡¯m not being na?ve. I know what I¡¯m getting myself into.¡± I do now, at least. If I¡¯d known everything I know now when I first met Edward, I would never have agreed to become his friend. But I still don¡¯t regret my decision. I still wouldn¡¯t change it.


    ¡°And yet still you won¡¯t stop? Listen. If there¡¯s anything I can do. Any hold they have over you, anything they¡¯ve promised you. I know the Blackthorns are powerful, but you¡¯re not alone, Tallulah. I can help you.¡±


    Oh. Maybe he¡¯s genuinely concerned for me. He cares more about the Academy¡¯s precious reputation than about me, but that doesn¡¯t mean my wellbeing is worth nothing to him. It¡¯s just a shame his concern is entirely misplaced.


    ¡°I¡¯m not being blackmailed, or coerced,¡± I say, trying once more to find that intense calmness that seems to come so easily to Edward. Maybe I should ask him for lessons. ¡°Edward Blackthorn is my friend, and I¡¯m not giving up on him. It¡¯s that simple.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°I see. If anything changes, though, know that my office is always open to you.¡±


    In other words: he doesn¡¯t believe me, but he knows he¡¯s not getting me to ¡°admit the truth¡± in one conversation. I suppose that¡¯s better than him continuing to insist on it.


    ¡°I appreciate it,¡± I say, because being on bad terms with the headmaster could make my next few months very difficult. ¡°But about this interview ¨C I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s for the good of the Academy ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What good will it do the Academy,¡± I ask, ¡°if I have a Malaina episode in the middle of my interview?¡±


    I¡¯ve found the answer. This type of conversation, I realise, isn¡¯t unlike history: the crucial part is understanding a person¡¯s motivation. Once you¡¯ve done that, it isn¡¯t hard to see how best to make your case.


    For the first time, seeing someone flinch at the mention of Malaina doesn¡¯t fill me with dismay and pain. ¡°Do you ¨C think that¡¯s likely?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say, choosing my words carefully. ¡°I¡¯d like to hope I have better control than that by now. But it was tough, what I went through yesterday. If they want all the details I¡­ having to remember it, having to share it with the entire country¡­¡±


    I¡¯m not lying, just framing the truth in the right way. The thought gives me a bizarre urge to laugh, which I suppress to avoid breaking character. Maybe I¡¯m not an utter failure of a lawyer after all.


    ¡°Of course,¡± the headmaster says, looking faintly uncomfortable. ¡°I quite understand. Perhaps¡­ perhaps putting you through that, after the ordeal you¡¯ve just survived, would be a little much.¡±


    It¡¯s all I can do to avoid smiling in triumph. ¡°Thank you, Headmaster.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll still have to give them your name, at least. And a little about you. Your academic work has been very good given the circumstances; I¡¯ll ask one of your teachers to give a report of your character.¡±


    Not Felicity. Or Electra.


    I suddenly realise that here I am with someone who has the authority to do something about Electra. I could tell him. Maybe he could¡­


    But what evidence do I really have against her? There¡¯s only the incident with the knives ¨C which from the perspective of someone sufficiently prejudiced against Malaina would probably seem quite reasonable ¨C and second-hand reports of her detentions being traumatic.


    And against that there¡¯s everything she did for me during my isolation.


    No. I don¡¯t think telling him is the right move.


    ¡°And perhaps some of your friends would be willing to comment? Not the Blackthorn boy, of course, but the others ¨C ¡°


    It takes all my self-restraint to refrain from pointing out that his name is Edward and he is so much more than just a member of that family. ¡°You¡¯d have to ask them, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°That I shall. If they request comment from you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Ask them to send a list of questions, and I will reply with answers.¡±


    It¡¯s not ideal. But at some point in this conversation I must have accepted that I¡¯m not going to be able to just stay silent and wait for all this to go away. At least this way I have time to think rather than risk saying the wrong thing under pressure.


    Besides, he looks faintly relieved at that. I¡¯ve shown him that I¡¯m not being ¡°entirely unreasonable¡±, that I¡¯m prepared to compromise on at least some matters.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯d like to meet again after tomorrow¡¯s papers, to discuss our next steps.¡±


    ¡°I have homework due,¡± I say without thinking.


    He smiles. ¡°I¡¯m sure your teachers will understand. If you can¡¯t finish it in time because of this affair, I¡¯d be happy to write you a note allowing you to hand work in late without consequences.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Was there anything else you wanted to discuss? Or may I go?¡±


    ¡°You may go,¡± he allows graciously.


    I stand, and then immediately fall back into my chair: I¡¯d nearly forgotten my injuries. I try again, using my crutches this time, and hobble over to the door. He doesn¡¯t open it for me, even though he can see I¡¯m struggling, but I eventually half-hop, half-hobble my way through.


    I don¡¯t quite know where to go now, but that problem is resolved for me: Edward is waiting at the main staircase.


    ¡°The headmaster didn¡¯t have you executed or committed to an asylum, then?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t joke about that last one. Please.¡±


    ¡°Sorry. But glad to see you¡¯re¡­ no less okay than when you went in?¡±


    ¡°Something like that. He wanted me to sever all contact with you. For my own good and the Academy¡¯s reputation.¡±


    ¡°What did you tell him?¡±


    I study Edward for a moment. He can be very hard to read when he wants to be, and I can¡¯t quite tell whether this is a serious question. ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing he didn¡¯t like that too much?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Not really. Can we sit down somewhere?¡±


    ¡°Study room?¡± Edward says. ¡°Or is that too many stairs?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll manage.¡±


    I give Edward the details on the slow and painful way back to the study room we were working in before dinner.


    ¡°That¡¯s one of the few good things about Malaina,¡± he says, opening the door for me. ¡°You can use the threat of an episode to force people¡¯s hands¡­ right, I¡¯m doing that thing where I assume everyone thinks like a Blackthorn again, aren¡¯t I?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Yup. At least you¡¯re aware of it now. I¡¯ll turn you into a normal person by the end of the year.¡±


    ¡°Stars help me,¡± says Edward, flinging up his hands in mock despair.

 50. Secret

    The papers the next morning are about as bad as I thought. Some are harsher than others, but there¡¯s a definite focus on the fact I¡¯m Malaina and a fair few mentions of the incident with Mildred. And then a line in the Herald that is worse than anything I expected.


    She was a student at the General Elizabeth Waterford School in Crelt up until she Fell. A description of the incident suggests it was unprovoked, coming in response to a request for help with homework.


    I freeze, spoonful of porridge hovering halfway to my mouth. It seems as if the world¡¯s stopped turning.


    It was supposed to be a secret. My secret. The one thing I could never let anyone know if I didn¡¯t want to be seen for who and what I really am.


    Now they know. Now the entire starry country knows. Now Edward knows.


    Not quite yet he doesn¡¯t. Not until we exchange papers and he reads this one. I have a wild, irrational impulse to burn it before he has a chance to read it, but that won¡¯t help anything ¨C and the thought of fire only reminds me of the pages of Ruby¡¯s notebook crumbling to ash ¨C


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.


    ¡°Tallulah? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    He noticed; of course he did. I can¡¯t hide it from him any more. I hand him the paper with shaking hands, point silently to the relevant line.


    Eleanor the Bold. Timothy the Peacemaker. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve ever been more afraid. Not in those first few moments after waking up in that hospital bed. Not when I thought I would be crushed by the mob. Even Malaina seems to wait for his response.


    ¡°Do you¡­ want to¡­ talk about it? We can go to a meeting room?¡±


    Just forming words is an effort. Maria the Seafarer. I force myself to take a shaky, shallow breath, and then manage to say ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Can you at least tell me if¡­ if there was more to it than that? If there¡¯s someone at that school, someone who hurt you¡­¡± His eyes flash, leaving me in no doubt that he would do everything in his power to destroy that hypothetical person¡¯s life for me.


    I say nothing, but I at least manage to take a couple more breaths.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to give me a name,¡± he tries. ¡°Just¡­ please. I¡¯m here for you, Tallulah.¡± He reaches across the table to take my hand. ¡°Tell me how I can help.¡±


    I shake my head. It occurs to me suddenly that I could lie. I could tell him that some nameless person hurt me, that there actually is a secret underlying trauma that caused my Fall.


    But I can¡¯t lie to Edward. ¡°No,¡± I force out. ¡°You can¡¯t. There¡¯s nothing more to it.¡±


    Something flickers across his face: surprise? Confusion? I can¡¯t tell. He doesn¡¯t reply.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t ¨C didn¡¯t tell you before.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°There was no obligation to. With Malaina¡­ you shouldn¡¯t have to reveal anything until you¡¯re ready.¡± Edward jerks his hand at the paper in a series of swift cutting motions, removing the scrap of paper that holds the pair of sentences that reveal what I couldn¡¯t tell him.


    Then he tears it in two. And again, methodically pressing the pieces together and tearing them in half until there¡¯s nothing left of the scrap.


    ¡°I feel like I lied by omission,¡± I say. I have to make him understand. There¡¯s no use hiding it any more. ¡°I let you believe I was¡­ you know. Traumatised. When I wasn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You were.¡±


    I narrow my eyes and stare at him.


    ¡°I¡¯ve researched Malaina in as much detail as I can. It doesn¡¯t manifest in people who haven¡¯t undergone trauma. There¡¯s no record of it happening before.¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°I suppose that makes me unique, then. New to magical science. You could study me.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C no. I just¡­¡± he hesitates. ¡°This doesn¡¯t change anything.¡±


    ¡°Of course it does.¡±


    ¡°No. I don¡¯t care how you Fell, Tallulah. Maybe you¡¯re Malaina, but you¡¯re also so much more than that. I¡¯m not your friend because we both have tragic backstories. I have a few theories about why you Fell, but they don¡¯t matter. Not really. It¡¯s over now. Whatever happened, it¡¯s behind you.¡±


    It¡¯s as if the tension that¡¯s been holding me together suddenly vanishes, leaving me to collapse as if I¡¯m a puppet whose strings have been cut. I find myself suddenly sobbing.


    Edward vaults over the table and wraps his arms around me, letting me bury my head in his shoulder and cry until I have no more tears left.


    Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say when it¡¯s finally over, wiping my eyes. ¡°I made a mess of your robe.¡±


    ¡°Do you really think I don¡¯t know basic cleaning spells?¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing a little at that. We won¡¯t cover cleaning spells in class until after Holy Days, but I shouldn¡¯t even be surprised that isn¡¯t going to stop Edward Blackthorn.


    ¡°Bathroom?¡± he asks.


    I stare at him blankly.


    ¡°To clean yourself up before classes.¡±


    ¡°How long do we have?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Still forty minutes. It¡¯s fine. Take as long as you need. I¡¯ll walk you there?¡±


    Part of me wants to protest that I don¡¯t need to be escorted to the bathroom as if I was a child, but I don¡¯t want to be alone right now. ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I end up leaning on him more than my crutches. I must look as pathetic as I feel, but I eventually make it to the nearest bathroom.


    ¡°I¡¯d offer to come in, but¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I say, hobbling through the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m just outside.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡±


    I lean on the sink and take deep, shuddering breaths for a while, then turn on the tap and splash icy water over my face. It¡¯s colder than I expected, and I flinch, but it feels surprisingly good.


    I¡¯m going to be okay, I tell myself. That could have gone so much worse.


    I didn¡¯t have an active episode. Edward didn¡¯t abandon me.


    What has my life come to that I consider that a genuinely positive outcome?


    I manage to compose myself after a few more minutes, and then return to the dining hall to finish my breakfast. It feels as if people are staring at me. Maybe it¡¯s just my imagination. But I am undeniably more interesting than I was two days ago.


    I want to go back to being boring.


    We have Countering Magical Effects first thing that morning. Electra doesn¡¯t treat me any differently to normal; that is to say, she criticises my vague explanation of specific counterspells harshly and spends nearly three minutes correcting my poor casting technique.


    I don¡¯t mind it as much as I usually do. It¡¯s almost nice to know that some things never change. Though I suppose Electra already knew what the papers revealed, didn¡¯t she? And she¡¯s never treated me any worse than my fellow students.


    I muddle through the morning until about lunchtime the questions arrive. The headmaster has sent me an annotated list with what I¡¯m supposed to answer. I don¡¯t agree with many of his suggestions. But he does know far more about these things than I do, so maybe¡­


    All I have to do to banish those thoughts is remember him telling me to sever contact with Edward. I¡¯m not going to let my decisions be made by anyone who would tell me that.


    It¡¯s just like a slightly strange history exercise, I tell myself. If I were in the place of this historical figure, what would I say? How would I justify my actions? I don¡¯t quite believe it, though; I know that it¡¯s real. I know that it is actually me mixed up in this.


    I go through three drafts of my answers to most questions, leaving a few that are particularly difficult, before lessons start again for the afternoon. My fingers are stained with ink from so much scribbling of notes.


    ¡°I¡¯ll get my dad to make you a dictation quill,¡± Edward says as we walk to class together.


    I stare at him for a long moment. ¡°You can¡¯t do that ¨C ¡°


    ¡°¡­what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Dictation quills,¡± I explain, ¡°for people who aren¡¯t Blackthorns, are absurdly expensive. Each one has to be custom-made by a master enchanter, and then the spellwork to key it to its owner¡¯s voice is so hard only a few dozen people in the entire country could manage it.¡±


    ¡°You know a lot about this,¡± he says.


    ¡°I wanted a dictation quill when I first started Genford. It would make essays so much easier. So I did some research, which crushed that dream pretty quickly.¡±


    ¡°Until now, anyway. My dad, you seem to be forgetting, is a master enchanter and one of those few dozen people.¡±


    ¡°I knew that, but ¨C ¡° I try to find the words. ¡°I don¡¯t want to put myself in debt to him. I don¡¯t want to become one of his people in exchange for enchanted items, however useful.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°As far as he¡¯s concerned, you already are.¡±


    I stop walking and stare at him. ¡°¡­since when?¡±


    ¡°Since two days ago. He wouldn¡¯t be giving you the emergency enchantments otherwise.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want¡­¡± I manage.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    Stars help me.


    ¡°He¡¯s not going to use you,¡± Edward says, as if that¡¯s reassuring. ¡°He won¡¯t drag you any further into his schemes.¡±


    ¡°How do you know?¡± We¡¯re outside the Alchemy classroom now, two minutes early, but I hesitate instead of opening the door.


    ¡°I won¡¯t let him,¡± says Edward simply, and tugs open the door.


    It¡¯s an absurd idea, on the surface: that any sixteen-year-old, however brilliant, could stop the Black Raven from doing something he set his mind to. But having seen them together, it seems a lot less so. Lord Blackthorn really does care about his son, and I think if Edward insisted strongly enough he would go quite a long way for his sake.


    Or maybe he¡¯s just saying that because it¡¯s what I want to hear.


    Once lessons are done, I go back to trying to answer the country¡¯s questions. I¡¯m not satisfied, not with any of it. Every time I look back I wonder why I chose this particular word, whether it could give an impression I don¡¯t want, how it could possibly be interpreted by someone biased against Malaina, Blackthorns or both.


    Especially since some of the questions are blatant traps. Were you afraid of him? What did he do to you?


    The latter has the obvious and true answer of nothing, at least, but the former¡­ there is no right answer to that. If I answer no it means I either have no sense of fear or am one of his people, and if I answer yes then to some extent I¡¯m accepting the idea that he¡¯s a monster, someone who should be feared.


    I settle in the end for explaining the truth, that it all happened so quickly there wasn¡¯t time to think or be afraid. That I was acting on instinct and hope and sheer relief I was still alive.


    Edward drags me out of the study room and away from the small stack of rejected answers I¡¯m creating at dinner time. ¡°You need to eat, Tallulah. This isn¡¯t going to turn into the Cavendish research project again.¡±


    Maybe if I hadn¡¯t let that break me, none of this would have happened. If Mildred hadn¡¯t made it so personal, if Lord Blackthorn hadn¡¯t betrayed her as a result, would Edward and I have gone to the execution? Perhaps we could have just been friends in the normal way, the way that didn¡¯t involve finding out secrets from newspapers.


    Or perhaps nothing about Edward and I was ever going to be normal, and sooner or later something else would have happened to bring that home.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter. ¡°Once I¡¯ve finished this ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Now.¡±


    I let my quill fall through my fingers, pile the papers into my satchel, and follow Edward to the dining hall. Elsie, Elizabeth and Robin have already claimed a table and food, so I get my meal and join them.


    Edward is gone by the time I sit down. He didn¡¯t even say goodbye. Does he hate the idea of spending time with people other than me that much?


    That¡¯s when another neatly-folded note flies up to me. What does the headmaster want now? I unfold it quickly, expecting not to like it, and am still unpleasantly surprised:


    Your mother is with me, and demands to see you at once.

 51. Mother and Daughter

    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just.


    No. Stars, no. She wasn¡¯t supposed to know. It didn¡¯t even occur to me that of course she¡¯d read a newspaper and of course she¡¯d react strongly to seeing her daughter¡¯s name in the pages. What exactly did they say? How much did she know? The incident with Mildred came up, didn¡¯t it? After all the effort I went to to keep that from her¡­


    Stars. I can already feel my breathing quickening, that familiar sense of unreality descending. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.


    I can¡¯t do this. I can¡¯t walk into the headmaster¡¯s office and see her and know she knows everything. After the way we parted¡­


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    Timothy the Peacemaker. It takes me a moment to recognise Elsie¡¯s voice. I focus on the sound she makes, the way she says my name. I use that to anchor me to reality.


    ¡°Tallulah, are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I think she¡¯s ¨C we should call someone ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No!¡± I spit, more angrily than I meant to. ¡°I am not having an active episode.¡± The act of speaking helps a little. Maria the Seafarer. Breathe. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t mean to snap. I just¡­¡±


    ¡°Bad news?¡± Elizabeth asks.


    It shouldn¡¯t be bad news, but it is. ¡°You¡­ could say that. Yes. It was just¡­ unexpected. That¡¯s all. I¡¯ll be okay.¡±


    I¡¯m lying. The thought of seeing her does not get any better now that I¡¯m prepared for it; if anything, it gets worse.


    How long can I afford to delay? I have to go ¨C stars know what she¡¯ll do if I don¡¯t ¨C but I have to stay away for the sake of avoiding an active episode. Maybe if I wait a little, until this passive one has passed, I¡¯ll be protected from it when I go.


    Five minutes, I tell myself, picking up my fork. Five more minutes.


    It¡¯s ten, in the end, before I finish eating and set off for the headmaster¡¯s office. I¡¯ve run through the entire list of kings in my head and am considering starting again from Charles First-King. I do feel calm, though: that emotional damping that always follows an episode has set in. I will need every bit of it for what¡¯s to come.


    For once I find myself wishing the Academy had more stairs, or that I hadn¡¯t been to the office before so I could have the excuse of getting lost, or even that I¡¯d been injured more severely in the riot so that I physically couldn¡¯t walk to her. No, that would be worse; then she¡¯d come to me, and I wouldn¡¯t have this scrap of control over the meeting.


    I barely even notice the pain of dragging myself through the ancient corridors, and it seems to take almost no time before I¡¯m outside the headmaster¡¯s door. I can¡¯t hear her voice, but I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if the wards around his office prevented sound from leaving it.


    I count to ten. Then do it again. Shuffle another step closer to the door, lean awkwardly on one crutch to free my other hand to knock. Hesitate a second longer.


    She¡¯s my mother. No matter what, she¡¯s my mother. She deserves to see me.


    I can¡¯t stop her from seeing me because I¡¯m too afraid to face her.


    I knock.


    ¡°Enter.¡±


    Neither of them comes to help me open the door, so I have to struggle with it myself. That buys me a few more seconds before I¡¯m inside and it shuts behind me.


    The headmaster is sitting at his desk, his face carefully blank. ¡°Thank you for coming, Tallulah,¡± he says blandly.


    My mother is sitting in the chair opposite; she turns it to face me. I can¡¯t read her expression; for some reason I¡¯ve always struggled to guess her emotions. ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says.


    ¡°¡­Hi, Mum.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah, what has happened to you?¡±


    I doubt she means the obvious physical change, but that¡¯s easier to explain than anything else. ¡°Got caught up in a riot and trampled half to death,¡± I say. ¡°But I¡¯m okay now. It¡¯ll only be another week or so before I don¡¯t need these crutches.¡±


    ¡°You know what they¡¯re saying about you?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°That you attacked Lady Cavendish in a mad rage. That you told the Black Raven to his face that he was wrong. That you¡¯re friends with his son.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t attack Mildred,¡± I protest. It¡¯s pedantry on my part, because the only reason for it was that Electra was there to stop me, but I can¡¯t just let that go unprotested.


    ¡°That is not my daughter.¡±


    Deceitful, ungrateful brat, and no daughter of mine. Stars. Words bubble up before I have a chance to think: ¡°I guess you didn¡¯t know me as well as you thought, then.¡±


    She flinches, and I feel a strange blend of satisfaction and guilt at the sight. ¡°Clearly,¡± she says. ¡°Clearly I did not. I can¡¯t understand it. You were¡­ you were doing so well. Everything I wanted for you. And then you threw it all away, for¡­¡± she gestures incoherently.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose this!¡± I snap. ¡°That¡¯s not how it works!¡±


    ¡°Then what in stars¡¯ names happened? You hadn¡¯t been through trauma. There was no reason ¨C ¡°


    She¡¯s right. She¡¯s right, and yet she still doesn¡¯t understand at all. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t understand it, either. But¡­ whatever happened. Whatever I did. This was not my intention.¡± I pray she believes me.


    Mother composes herself and then says: ¡°Even that doesn¡¯t explain everything you¡¯ve been doing since! And you never told me any of it.¡±


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± is all I can find to say. I knew you wouldn¡¯t like it. I didn¡¯t want to have to deal with your reaction. I should have told her before; I was foolish to think she would never find out, and now all I¡¯ve done is make it worse.


    ¡°You should be,¡± she snaps. ¡°Do you have any idea what it felt like to find out all that from the starry newspapers?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, ¡°I don¡¯t. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re sorry, are you? That makes it so much better, does it?¡±


    That hurts. My eyes are stinging. I¡¯m not going to cry in front of her. ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± I say. ¡°Even if it doesn¡¯t help. Even if you don¡¯t believe me. It¡¯s true.¡±


    She purses her lips and stares at me for a long moment. The pain is getting worse; I should sit down. Asking for a chair at this point in the conversation feels wrong, though. I can deal with it.


    The silence drags on long enough to be awkward. What am I supposed to say? I just want to leave and collapse on my bed to cry, but¡­


    ¡°Well,¡± she says finally. ¡°What are we going to do now?¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know,¡± I say.


    ¡°How are your studies going?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Well enough, I suppose. There aren¡¯t really grades, it¡¯s a pass-fail system. And there haven¡¯t been tests yet, either.¡±


    ¡°No tests?¡± Mother says, turning to face the headmaster. I¡¯d almost forgotten he was there; he¡¯s been trying to fade into the background.


    ¡°Not yet,¡± he says smoothly. ¡°There will be a full set of mock exams at the end of each term, but don¡¯t forget your daughter and her classmates are new to the study of magic, and everyone learns it at a different rate. We¡¯ve found it¡¯s not productive to have students worrying about tests when they should be worrying about making sure they understand the basic principles. If you¡¯re interested in monitoring your daughter¡¯s progress, I can arrange for her teachers to write reports and send them to you.¡±


    No, I want to tell him. Please don¡¯t. I remember only too well every report and test at Genford, Mother never being satisfied by anything less than perfection. I¡¯m a long way from perfection right now. Maybe I should ask Edward to help me consolidate the material we¡¯re learning now rather than teach me new things? He won¡¯t like that, though. I can already hear his voice: but nothing we¡¯ve covered so far is even that interesting.


    ¡°I would like that very much,¡± Mother says, predictably. ¡°Where is she compared to the others in her class?¡±


    ¡°I think what you need to take into account is that several of her classmates are Siaril, and so have known their whole lives they would be magicians, have spent years on preparatory study. Expecting your daughter to be on the same level as them is unrealistic ¨C ¡°


    ¡°So they have a head start,¡± Mother says sceptically. ¡°That shouldn¡¯t mean much. Tallulah is brilliant. She learns so quickly, and she has an excellent work ethic ¨C ¡°


    I stare at her in silent disbelief. She¡¯s never told me that. It¡¯s always been ¡°you should work harder¡± or ¡°why are you still reading that book? That¡¯s not related to the curriculum. You should be revising for your maths test.¡±


    Does she really think ¨C and if she does why did she never tell me that ¨C


    ¡°Be that as it may,¡± the headmaster continues in a placid monotone, ¡°I don¡¯t think you understand quite who you¡¯re expecting your daughter to compete with.¡±


    ¡°Edward Blackthorn, Mildred Cavendish, Robin Wilde,¡± I say. ¡°I sit with Edward in most classes. I am never going to be able to compete with him.¡± Surely she can at least understand that?


    ¡°I want to meet him,¡± Mother says.


    I can¡¯t work out if I¡¯m pleased or horrified by that idea. Pleased, because having him here with me would make this a thousand times easier. Horrified, because I don¡¯t want either of them to meet and hate the other. ¡°I don¡¯t know where he is,¡± I say, focusing on the practical. ¡°And if I did ¨C ¡° I gesture at my crutches ¨C ¡°I¡¯d really rather not have to fetch him.¡±


    ¡°Of course. I will send him a note at once.¡±


    ¡°If he agrees to come,¡± I add.


    ¡°The Academy¡¯s rules state he must.¡±


    He¡¯s unlikely to enjoy being summoned, but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s anything I can do about it.


    The headmaster reaches for a piece of notepaper, scribbles something and folds it neatly. I don¡¯t see him casting anything, but the note takes flight as soon as his hands leave, pressing itself into the door. ¡°Open the door for it, would you?¡±


    Yes, make the girl on crutches do it. What an excellent idea. I keep my sarcasm to myself and obey orders.


    ¡°While we¡¯re waiting for him, would you care for a drink of tea?¡± the headmaster asks.


    ¡°No sugar,¡± Mother replies.


    I don¡¯t know whether the offer is open to me, so I stay silent.


    ¡°Very good. I will make it at once.¡± He gets to his feet and strides past me and out of the office. The kitchen staff must be able to provide drinks and snacks for him and his guests; it¡¯s no more than an excuse to escape this room.


    I can¡¯t blame him.


    My eyes catch on his empty chair. How much trouble would I be in if I took it while he was gone? I consider it for a second and then decide it¡¯s worth it to rest my pain-filled legs. I hobble around the table and sit down. The relief of it is wonderfully sweet.


    I don¡¯t meet Mother¡¯s eyes. I can¡¯t.


    ¡°Is there anything you need to tell me?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I really am sorry. For not telling you about the¡­ isolation¡­ before. I thought ¨C it would only worry you, and I thought it would work out in the end ¨C and it did.¡±


    ¡°Did you tell your father?¡± she asks.


    That is a dangerous question. ¡°No,¡± I say, because it¡¯s the truth: Electra told him.


    ¡°You¡¯re too good for your family now, is that it? Now that you¡¯re hanging around with Blackthorns and the like?¡±


    ¡°No. No!¡± I¡¯m not good enough for you.


    ¡°Then why?¡±


    ¡°Like I said: I didn¡¯t want to worry you.¡±


    ¡°And a fine job of that you¡¯ve done, Tallulah. We¡¯re your parents. It¡¯s our job to worry about you, to support you when you need us.¡±


    ¡°Well, you haven¡¯t done a very good one.¡±


    I didn¡¯t mean to say that. It just slipped out before I had the chance to think.


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡±


    I should feel guilty. I should be saying I didn¡¯t mean it, that it came out wrong, that it¡¯s not what I really think. But instead I just feel¡­ relieved. Free. Like I¡¯ve been wanting to say that for a long time. Because I did mean it. Because it¡¯s true.


    ¡°I knew it was happening,¡± I say, the words coming out in a rush. ¡°Falling. Before it was too late. Do you remember the night before?¡±


    She stares at me, unmoving. Finally, she¡¯s listening to me.


    ¡°I got detention for forgetting my English essay. You were furious. I should have been better than that. I should have known not to make a mistake so careless. I needed to take that essay in and force him to grade it.¡±


    ¡°What¡­ what does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°I knew then. And I wanted to tell you. But how could I, after that?¡±


    ¡°Are you saying all this is my fault?¡± she asks, disbelief and anger filling her voice.


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° I want to say no. It¡¯s what I¡¯ve always done: you shouldn¡¯t blame others for your own weakness, for something you could have prevented. But this strange new part of me wants to say yes.


    Before I can decide the door swings open: the headmaster has returned. ¡°Here you are, Mrs Roberts,¡± he says, stepping in. ¡°One tea ¨C what are you doing in my chair?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. My ankle. It hurts when I stand for too long. Please let me stay here.¡± I hate how vulnerable I sound, but I¡¯m not even sure I could stand up again, let alone remain standing for the rest of this confrontation.


    ¡°Of course,¡± he says. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry. You should have said something sooner.¡±


    You should have offered.


    His return has broken the tension between us, leaving only an awkward silence.


    Mother picks up her teacup and blows across the surface of the tea to cool it. ¡°I hope this Blackthorn boy doesn¡¯t intend to keep me waiting too long.¡±


    ¡°He can be¡­ rather stubborn when he wants to be, I¡¯m afraid. Doesn¡¯t have much respect for authority. Not a surprise, really.¡±


    I dig my nails into my palms to stop myself speaking in Edward¡¯s defence. I can hear his matter-of-fact voice in my mind: Respect has to be earned. And so far, you have not done so.


    ¡°Not at all the sort I¡¯d expect Tallulah to become friends with.¡±


    That one I¡¯ve at least heard before. ¡°As we¡¯ve already established,¡± I say, because I can¡¯t hold my silence any longer, ¡°you don¡¯t know me as well as you thought.¡±


    It at least silences her, though I¡¯m not sure the oppressiveness of this particular silence is much of an improvement. Much though I hate to admit it, I fail to see how adding Edward to this situation will make it any better. I¡¯m a little scared of how far he might go in my defence.


    The room is silent other than Mother sipping her tea, until after what¡¯s probably only a minute or two there¡¯s a short, sharp knock at the door.

 52. A Choice

    ¡°Enter,¡± the headmaster calls out.


    Edward opens the door and pauses in the doorway. He¡¯s tense, ready to flee at the first sign of danger. ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says. ¡°What¡¯s happening?¡±


    I guess I¡¯m doing introductions, then. ¡°Edward, this is my mother. She wanted to meet you. Mother, Edward Blackthorn.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Edward says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him, ¡°here I am.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± hisses Mother, ¡°have you done to my daughter?¡±


    Edward freezes in the act of walking around the desk to join me. ¡°I¡¯ve never intended to hurt her in any way. I know a lot of what¡¯s happened to her is because of me, but none of it was what I wanted, and I have done everything in my power to make those things right.¡±


    He sounds surprisingly sincere. I know everything he just said is true, of course, but I wasn¡¯t expecting him to feel the need to justify himself to Mother.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± she snaps. ¡°You¡¯ve changed her. Corrupted her.¡±


    So that¡¯s why. Mother always has to find someone to blame for everything. I wish I¡¯d had a chance to warn Edward beforehand.


    He narrows his eyes and says nothing.


    ¡°You don¡¯t deny it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s inevitable that when two people are close enough, they will change each other. I don¡¯t believe I have corrupted Tallulah. I wouldn¡¯t want her to become¡­¡± He hesitates, finishing walking around the desk until he¡¯s standing behind the chair I¡¯ve stolen for myself.


    ¡°Become what?¡± Mother asks.


    ¡°Like me,¡± Edward says simply.


    Mother has nothing to say to that for a moment. She takes another sip of tea.


    ¡°Is this all you wanted from me?¡± he asks. ¡°Because I was in the middle of something, and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No, you may not leave,¡± Mother snaps. That is a mistake.


    ¡°There seems to be a misunderstanding,¡± Edward says, slipping into that deceptively mild calm. ¡°What makes you think you have any authority over me?¡±


    That surprises Mother to the point that she chokes on her latest sip of tea, and coughs a few times. I want to offer her help or at least ask if she¡¯s okay, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯d appreciate that right now. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s no less than I should have expected,¡± she says once she¡¯s recovered her composure, ¡°from a Blackthorn.¡±


    I know that¡¯s hurt Edward, but his tone doesn¡¯t reveal pain. ¡°And I suppose this is no less than I should have expected,¡± he replies, ¡°from a woman who has so utterly failed her daughter.¡±


    Stars.


    ¡°How dare you,¡± Mother spits.


    ¡°I dare because it¡¯s true. She writes to her father. Every week, without fail. Even when she was isolated she wrote to him. Did it ever occur to you to wonder why she didn¡¯t write to you? To wonder why she didn¡¯t tell you any of this before?¡±


    ¡°You will stop speaking to me like this at once ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I will not,¡± Edward says smoothly. ¡°Tallulah is a sensible girl, most of the time. Not the type to cut a parent out of her life out of petty spite or stubborn independence. I know she wouldn¡¯t do that if she had a scrap of faith left in you as her mother.¡±


    ¡°Edward ¨C ¡° I say, but he ignores me.


    ¡°And look! She¡¯s sitting in the headmaster¡¯s chair. That means you saw your daughter on crutches, in pain, and didn¡¯t even think to offer her your seat ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward! Stop!¡±


    ¡°Am I wrong?¡± he asks me.


    Yes. The word catches in my throat. I can¡¯t say it. I don¡¯t even know if it¡¯s true any more. No. I can¡¯t make myself say that either.


    ¡°Tell me I¡¯m wrong,¡± he says. ¡°Tell me she¡¯s a good mother. Tell me she¡¯s always been there when you needed her most.¡±


    And I can¡¯t. Stars help me, I can¡¯t.


    ¡°I see how it is,¡± Mother says coldly. ¡°You choose him.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I say numbly. ¡°No. No, I don¡¯t. I shouldn¡¯t have to choose between my mother and my best friend. I¡¯m not going to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stop lying to me. You don¡¯t need to spare my feelings. I understand when I¡¯m not wanted. Thank you for the tea, Headmaster.¡± She sets her cup down on its saucer with an air of finality and gets to her feet.


    I¡¯m crying. I can¡¯t help it. ¡°Don¡¯t go. Please don¡¯t go.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t listen; she stalks out without another word.


    Edward kneels down beside my chair and wraps a comforting arm around me. I shake him off with an effort.


    ¡°Well,¡± the headmaster says coldly, ¡°what do you propose I do now?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah and I need to speak in private,¡± Edward says. ¡°May we go?¡±


    ¡°After you have been so flagrantly disrespectful?¡±


    ¡°If I have broken any aspect of the Academy¡¯s rules, please inform me of it,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°The Academy¡¯s code of conduct states that all students must show the appropriate respect ¨C ¡°


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    ¡°To all other students, staff both academic and otherwise, and researchers working on the Academy premises. Mrs Roberts has no official position at the Academy, unless I have been gravely misinformed.¡±


    The headmaster sighs. ¡°Just go, will you? Tallulah, I wanted to discuss this morning¡¯s papers with you, but perhaps that can wait until you¡¯re¡­ well.¡±


    Not a sobbing heap. ¡°Thank you, Headmaster,¡± I choke out, and get to my feet. The pain hits me immediately, even stronger than before. Maybe it¡¯s just because I¡¯m drained after that conversation.


    Edward, at least, has the decency to open the door and hold it for me until I manage to hobble out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I can make it to a meeting room,¡± I say.


    ¡°This floor is all staff offices,¡± Edward replies. ¡°We¡¯ll have to go up or down at least some stairs. Unless you want to ask Electra to lend us her office?¡±


    If that¡¯s intended to lighten the mood, it works: I crack a smile. ¡°I can make it to the nearest study room. And it¡¯s not like we¡¯re discussing state secrets. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°Personal,¡± Edward says.


    I nod.


    We don¡¯t speak further until we¡¯ve reached the study room. It¡¯s thankfully empty; I stagger over to the nearest chair and collapse onto it.


    ¡°Are you¡­¡± Edward begins.


    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯ve been worse.¡± After the riot, I can say that about any situation without lying. ¡°But¡­¡± It would be so easy just to not say this, to move on with my life and ignore my feelings. Except without that impulse to hide from confrontation I wouldn¡¯t be in this position now. I¡¯ll feel better once it¡¯s done. Hopefully.


    ¡°But what?¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have said the things you did.¡±


    Edward narrows his eyes. ¡°What did I do wrong? Was I supposed to just stand there and let her insult me?¡±


    I know Edward well enough by now to realise he¡¯s not pretending; he really doesn¡¯t understand what he did wrong. Stars, I don¡¯t know if I have the strength to explain how normal people work to him right now. ¡°Just because she insulted you doesn¡¯t mean you had to insult her back.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t just because she insulted me.¡±


    ¡°Then why?¡± I ask, knowing I won¡¯t like the answer.


    ¡°Because what I said was true. Because it needed to be said. Because you needed to hear it.¡±


    ¡°That is quite possibly the last thing I needed to hear right then.¡±


    ¡°Needed,¡± he corrects. ¡°Not wanted. I know it isn¡¯t easy, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°She¡¯s my mother, Edward. Even if she¡¯s made mistakes, she¡¯s still my mother and I should still love and respect her.¡±


    ¡°Should,¡± he points out.


    He¡¯s right; the way I worded that implies ¨C stars.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± Edward says. ¡°Just because she¡¯s family doesn¡¯t mean you have to love her or respect her or ignore her faults. You just have to stop feeling obliged to, stop caring about her opinion.¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°Edward,¡± I say, ¡°do you have any idea what a hypocrite you¡¯re being?¡±


    Edward flinches. I feel a twinge of guilt, but not enough to stop me. He wants to make me face up to the uncomfortable truth about a parent? Then he has no right to complain that I¡¯m doing the same thing to him.


    ¡°Tell me I¡¯m wrong. Tell me he¡¯s a good father. Tell me he¡¯s always been there when you needed him.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡° He turns away from me. That really does hurt. I want desperately to apologise and take it back, but I need to make him understand.


    After a long moment he turns back. ¡°Okay. Yeah. I guess this is how it felt to you, isn¡¯t it? Except worse because she was there listening to it ¨C fine.¡± He throws his hands up. ¡°You¡¯re right. I shouldn¡¯t have said it. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry too.¡±


    ¡°Though for the record I still believe everything I said there.¡±


    He needs to learn when to shut up. Wait, no. That¡¯s not what he¡¯s asking. He wants to know whether I still believe what I just said.


    I don¡¯t even know whether I do. Is Lord Blackthorn a good father? I¡¯ve only seen him and Edward together once, and that was in the aftermath of the riot. I know he loves Edward, though, and Edward loves him back.


    Is that enough? Once I would have said yes, but that was before. Now¡­ I just don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t trust my own judgement any more. ¡°I didn¡¯t think about what I said, honestly. It just¡­¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I deserved it. Just don¡¯t do it again.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t if you won¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°Deal.¡± He pauses. ¡°If you do want to talk about it¡­ anything, really. I¡¯m here.¡±


    ¡°I might take you up on that when I actually know what I think about all this. In the meantime, could you help me make it to my dormitory?¡±


    Edward smiles and offers me his arm.


    I tug the curtains around my bed shut and then lie there, unmoving and exhausted.


    Is Mother a bad parent? Has she failed me?


    Edward had a point: maybe this pain is necessary. Maybe confronting these questions is the first step to finding acceptable answers.


    He thinks too highly of me, though. Supposing I cut her out of my life because I didn¡¯t respect her any more, when I just never wrote to her because I couldn¡¯t face the thought of her confronting me with my own failure.


    I felt I couldn¡¯t confide in her. I felt she¡¯d blame and judge me. Why did I feel that way? I stare into the empty darkness, and the answer comes: because of how she¡¯d reacted when I tried before.


    When I was accepted into Genford, I cried. I didn¡¯t want to go to a strange fancy school; I wanted to go to the ordinary high school my friends were going to. Thirteen-year-old me didn¡¯t care about making connections or future career opportunities or anything like that.


    Mother told me to stop being such a baby. It was for my own good. I¡¯d get over it and make new friends, and one day I¡¯d thank her for it.


    I never did. After the first couple of days there I gave up on trying to make her see and started pretending that everything was okay. Only now do I realise that I never stopped pretending. I never belonged at Genford, and I was never happy there.


    It seems so obvious now, but at the time¡­ when you¡¯ve been living with something for two years, it becomes normal. You don¡¯t realise that you¡¯re suffering.


    Even if I couldn¡¯t, though¡­ should Mother have realised? She was busy: she must have thought Tallulah¡¯s getting good grades and she says she¡¯s happy. I don¡¯t need to worry about her. Until she did.


    There¡¯s everything she said after I Fell, too. It still hurts to remember that. Deceitful, ungrateful brat, and no daughter of mine. Malaina changes things, though. It¡¯s not a surprise it would change how she saw me. It¡¯s not a surprise she¡¯d think worse of me for it.


    And then on top of that the shock of finding out exactly what I¡¯ve been doing since from the newspapers, of all things, because I couldn¡¯t even write to her to tell her¡­ that I can¡¯t blame anyone but myself for. I should have told her. I shouldn¡¯t have tried to pretend she didn¡¯t exist.


    Edward has a point, though: what does it say about someone that their own daughter would rather pretend they didn¡¯t exist? She could have been loving, supportive. She could have talked to me occasionally about things beyond grades and planning my future. It wouldn¡¯t have been too hard to notice then that I was lying to myself, that I wasn¡¯t okay.


    I don¡¯t know. Maybe trying to assign blame for the past isn¡¯t the right way of thinking about it. Maybe I should be focusing on the future.


    All that does is remind me of the look of betrayal on her face as she watched me remain silent, fail to defend her. The dreadful silence that followed her exit. I don¡¯t know how to fix that.


    Stars, I realise, I¡¯m supposed to go home for Holy Days. I¡¯m supposed to live with her for nearly a month. I don¡¯t know if I could stand a month of icy silence. I don¡¯t even know if she¡¯d let me come home any more.


    Edward would take me in for a month if I asked. He¡¯d probably be delighted to have company. I don¡¯t know that I want to live in Blackthorn Manor, though. I¡¯ve grown used to the grandeur of the Academy now, but there are hundreds of people here, enough to fill the building. It would be quite different to be one of only a handful of people living in a manor.


    It would be quite different to live with Lord Blackthorn. That¡¯s the real problem.


    It¡¯s beside the point right now, though. How am I going to fix this? I need to talk to her ¨C though as soon as I think about it I want to do almost anything but that ¨C but it was giving into the urge to just not deal with it that led me to this point in the first place.


    I can write. It¡¯ll be easier in a letter. I¡¯ll have time to choose my words carefully, to make sure I¡¯m saying precisely what I mean to. I¡¯ll do it tonight. Well, after I¡¯m up to date with my homework, anyway.

 53. Hunger

    I don¡¯t write the letter that night. I discover a mistake I¡¯ve made in a long calculation for Magical Theory, and it takes me ten minutes just to fix that, and then I remember that Sam¡¯s assignment for Magical Law and Culture is an essay on how the role of magicians in the political system has changed over time.


    That¡¯s a topic I know a lot about, even more since coming here, and I feel compelled to do it justice. I write for an hour or two before Robin and Lucy arrive to find me sprawled on the floor, scribbling frantically away.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡± Robin asks. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡­which clearly demonstrates that the aftermath of the Second Civil War marked a dramatic change in¡­ ¡°What? Oh. Yes. I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°What are you doing on the floor, though?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Writing my essay. It¡¯s too painful to get to a study room, so¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve written four full sides of parchment,¡± Lucy says. ¡°We weren¡¯t supposed to write that much, were we?¡±


    ¡°The minimum is two sides, as usual. But I have a lot to say about this topic. I¡¯m barely even halfway done.¡±


    Lucy laughs. ¡°I feel sorry for Sam having to mark all that!¡±


    I¡¯ve been well over the required length before, and he hasn¡¯t seemed to mind; in fact he¡¯s been pleased with my work. But maybe I might be taking it a bit too far here. Then I consider trying to trim it down to a more manageable size, and realise there¡¯s no way to do that without cutting out half the things I want to say. I guess he¡¯ll just have to put up with the extra work I¡¯m giving him.


    ¡°Seriously, Tallulah,¡± Robin says. ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°¡­relatively.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just I¡¯ve noticed you tend to work yourself too hard as a way of dealing with stress. And after what happened at dinner ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What happened at dinner?¡± Lucy asks.


    I don¡¯t particularly want to explain. ¡°No. It¡¯s not that. I just¡­ I really like history, okay? And I enjoy writing about it. What¡¯s wrong with that?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Robin says, ¡°except¡­ have you even eaten?¡±


    Oh. ¡°No. I forgot. It¡¯s fine, I¡¯m not that hungry. I¡¯ll be fine just for one day.¡±


    ¡°Well. At the very least, you are going to stop working now and get some sleep.¡±


    ¡°What time is it?¡±


    ¡°Ten after noon. After the few days you¡¯ve had, you need to rest.¡±


    ¡°Did Edward ask you to look after me?¡± I ask without thinking.


    Robin flinches. ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°No. He barely even speaks to me, unless it¡¯s about magical theory.¡±


    My mind is too slow and sluggish for this conversation. She¡¯s right; I should rest. ¡°He doesn¡¯t tend to be the sociable sort,¡± I say, gathering together the scraps of parchment scattered around me.


    ¡°He¡¯s sociable enough with you.¡±


    I¡¯ve made another mistake. ¡°We¡¯re not dating,¡± I say.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± says Robin sceptically. ¡°Now rest.¡±


    ¡°Yes, your ladyship.¡±


    It is good to actually get a good night¡¯s sleep for once. It¡¯s somewhat less good when I wake up the next morning and realise my essay is due tomorrow, and I still haven¡¯t finished the responses to the questions the headmaster passed onto me, and I haven¡¯t written to my mother, and I don¡¯t have time to do any of that right now because I need to wash and have breakfast before classes start.


    Charles First-King. I close my eyes and focus on breathing for a few seconds, then step gracefully out of bed. That is, I would have stepped gracefully out of bed if my ankle had been working properly; it holds my weight, but only just, and I have to bite my lip to avoid crying out in pain and waking the others.


    I grab my crutches and clean clothes and drag myself to the bathroom.


    I make it down to breakfast not that much later than normal. Edward is already there; he¡¯s saved me a seat and is skimming through the morning¡¯s papers as usual. My step falters as I see them; I don¡¯t want to know what they¡¯re saying about me.


    ¡°Morning,¡± says Edward, looking up and waving.


    ¡°Morning. Do I want to know¡­¡± I gesture vaguely to the papers.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing about you. Not anywhere near the front pages, anyway. See ¨C ¡°


    He passes the Morning Report over to me. Its headline, just as Edward said, has nothing to do with us: CONCERNS FOR THE HEALTH OF THE HIGH PRINCESS.


    I sit down somewhat awkwardly and skim the article. High Princess Alexandra is suffering from severe morning sickness, apparently, and is temporarily withdrawing from public duties as a result. I shouldn¡¯t feel relieved that she¡¯s ill, but I¡¯m still glad they¡¯re talking about someone else today.


    Edward doesn¡¯t look relieved, though; he seems concerned himself, if anything. He doesn¡¯t know the High Princess personally, though, so¡­ I don¡¯t bother asking; I know he¡¯ll tell me sooner or later. I just enjoy the peace and the taste of my porridge.


    ¡°The way this is framed,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°A lot of pregnant women get morning sickness. It¡¯s a normal enough thing, and it goes away on its own. Yet¡­ concerns for her health.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, considering. ¡°You¡¯re saying¡­ someone wants to make this seem more serious than it is? Who, and why?¡±


    ¡°Why is easy enough. She¡¯s heir to the throne; her health and that of the Kingdom are deeply entwined. If something happens to her¡­ there isn¡¯t a replacement.¡±


    ¡°The King has three other children.¡±


    ¡°I presume you¡¯re not suggesting a nine-year-old High Prince? And ¨C ¡° he glances around to make sure no-one¡¯s listening ¨C ¡°my dad has given me very unfavourable accounts of Stephen and Miranda.¡±


    I swallow another mouthful of porridge and point out the obvious: ¡°No disrespect to your father, but¡­ are you sure that ¨C ¡°


    ¡°When it comes to who would make a good king, and who wouldn¡¯t? His judgement is about as good as is possible. But without Alexandra, the succession is uncertain. And you¡¯re a historian; you know what an uncertain succession means.¡±


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    I do, but that¡¯s not what my mind focuses on. You¡¯re a historian. Am I? I¡¯m interested in history, even passionate about it. But I don¡¯t know if I could or should devote my life to it. I don¡¯t know if I want it to become who I am.


    I don¡¯t know who and what I want to be.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say, moving on from those uncomfortable thoughts. ¡°That¡¯s why. What about who?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I wish I knew. I wish my dad knew. I could make guesses, but they shouldn¡¯t be shared publicly. I¡¯m trying to analyse all the papers, see the differences in their reporting. Different people have influence with different papers, so perhaps¡­¡±


    ¡°Let me know if I can help,¡± I say, and immediately regret it. Wasn¡¯t it just an hour ago I nearly had a Malaina episode because of how much I have to do already and how overwhelming it all is? And now here I am volunteering for more.


    Maybe there really is something wrong with me.


    I muddle through the morning¡¯s lessons, and spend lunch drafting and redrafting answers to the interview questions. I almost don¡¯t want to send them now; maybe if I keep quiet the papers will continue talking about the High Princess¡¯s health or the storms in the far north of the country and forget about me.


    That hope is dashed when I receive another summons to the headmaster¡¯s office. At least this time it¡¯s not to come at once: three and thirty after noon, once lessons are finished for the day (the last period today is a free one) and bring my completed answers with me.


    Which relies on my actually having completed answers. I skip lunch to work on them, which is a mistake: one missed meal might be okay, but two means my stomach is grumbling and growling all through Enchantments. I¡¯m not used to hunger; the physical pain of it distracts me and I barely take in any of the lesson.


    It finishes at three after noon, which gives me half an hour to do a final proofread of my answers. I¡¯ve worked out the broad structure of what I want to say by this time, but I keep changing my mind about which words work best in particular contexts, and I have to recopy them every time the number of crossings-out on each page gets too much.


    Still, by three and thirty I¡¯m more or less satisfied. Then there¡¯s just the agony of making it to his office. I thought the hunger would distract from that pain, but no: they¡¯re both there, feeding into each other and making the whole worse.


    I take a few seconds outside the office door to compose myself, become a calm and competent lawyer-in-training rather than an exhausted fifteen-year-old way out of her depth and holding herself together by a thread. I¡¯m not sure it works, but I can at least pretend now.


    Then I knock.


    ¡°Enter.¡±


    I do so. Thankfully the second chair is empty this time, and I hobble over to sit on it. ¡°I have the answers you requested here,¡± I say, passing the stack of papers across the table.


    ¡°Yes, so I see, thank you. Let¡¯s have a look¡­¡±


    He reads through my answers in silence. It feels as if I¡¯ve handed in an assignment and he¡¯s grading it, except this is an assignment for a class I haven¡¯t met the prerequisites for and never wanted to take. I¡¯ve always hated it when they just read through it without acknowledging you, making occasional noises of approval or confusion without context.


    It makes you feel like you¡¯re waiting for judgement from on high.


    ¡°You¡¯re a good writer,¡± he says after too long, though it doesn¡¯t sound like praise. ¡°That¡¯s unusual, for a magician.¡±


    Because I was never supposed to be a magician. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    ¡°I do have a few concerns about the content, though. For instance, in your account of whatever happened between you and Lady Cavendish¡­¡±


    It¡¯s honestly not as bad as I thought; most of his suggestions are only minor corrections which I have no objections to making. I think perhaps after seeing Edward and I together he understands now that he won¡¯t be able to convince me to abandon him. And even if he¡¯s more concerned with the Academy¡¯s reputation than with my interests, we¡¯re able to find a way of phrasing things that helps both.


    At least, I hope it does. By this point the hunger and tiredness is getting to the stage where I find myself involuntarily losing focus. My stomach grumbles loudly as I¡¯m trying to explain why I¡¯m choosing to describe the riot in the way I am.


    ¡°Hungry?¡± he asks.


    ¡°A little,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s okay, though, I¡¯ll get something to eat as soon as we¡¯re finished here. What was I saying?¡± Stars, I can¡¯t remember my own arguments any more. Calm and competent, I tell myself. Not breaking down.


    ¡°You were talking about how you think your description of the riot gets across your emotional state at the time¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course, thank you.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t go on too much longer, thank the stars. I¡¯m still not particularly happy with telling my story to the entire country, but it¡¯s much too late for that. And better that I give the true account than that it¡¯s left to the rumour mill to weave gossip and lies about me.


    That done, I need to get food and finish my essay and write to my mother. Food has to be the priority, though: I can¡¯t work effectively when I¡¯m this hungry. It¡¯s four and ten after noon, though: the dining hall won¡¯t open for nearly two hours. There¡¯s the caf¨¦, but that means trekking across the grounds.


    I could just wait a couple of hours. I won¡¯t starve to death in that short a time. But the thought of not doing anything to fix one of the few problems I can actually control is not a pleasant one. It¡¯s not that far, maybe a hundred yards or so. I can manage that, can¡¯t I?


    It feels more like a hundred miles, but I drag myself step by painful step over to the caf¨¦. The caf¨¦ that turns out to close at four after noon every evening. I¡¯ve come all this way for nothing, and now I have to make it all the way back¡­


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.


    I close my eyes and recite the list to myself. I am not going to have a Malaina episode, and I am not going to cry. That alone is a victory.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    I open my eyes. That¡¯s Elsie¡¯s voice. ¡°Hi, Elsie.¡± My voice comes out flat and empty.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C I saw you coming this way, and I knew the caf¨¦ was closed so I¡­ I guess I just wanted to see if you were all right. I can go. If you want.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if I want company right now. If it were Edward, yes, but I don¡¯t want anyone but him to see me in this state. I can¡¯t quite bring myself to send her away, though. ¡°No. No, stay.¡±


    ¡°Can I help?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you have food? I skipped lunch. And also dinner yesterday. And I¡¯m starving.¡±


    Elsie shakes her head. ¡°I can¡¯t carry food around with me; I¡¯d eat it myself when I wasn¡¯t supposed to. We could try going to the kitchens and asking?¡±


    ¡°You¡­ think that would work?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°Their job is to feed you. They might not have proper meals at this time, but there¡¯s bound to be something there that you can eat.¡±


    ¡°That does also involve making it to the kitchens,¡± I add.


    ¡°You made it here, didn¡¯t you? I¡¯d offer to carry you, except¡­¡± She shrugs to indicate that she doesn¡¯t have the strength to do it.


    ¡°Can I at least rest before going back?¡±


    Elsie laughs. ¡°Of course. Who do you think I am, Electra?¡±


    ¡°No, thank the stars.¡± I awkwardly sit down, leaning my crutches up against the wall.


    Elsie sits beside me; I¡¯m jealous of how easily she can collapse onto the grass. I never realised how precious it is just to be able to move normally. ¡°I¡¯m sorry about everything that¡¯s happened,¡± she says. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to deal with this. No-one should.¡±


    I agree. But it doesn¡¯t help to know that, because I do have to deal with it.


    ¡°I wondered if¡­ if you¡¯d like someone to talk to. I know you have Edward, and he¡¯s a good friend to you ¨C but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If you¡¯re about to say he¡¯s a Blackthorn ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t! Well, okay, I was, but not in a bad way. Just ¨C he¡¯s not normal. He doesn¡¯t understand normal people.¡±


    True enough, I suppose, despite my best efforts to teach him. ¡°And you do,¡± I say.


    Elsie laughs. ¡°Look at me, Tallulah. Do I look special?¡±


    There¡¯s a bitter undertone to her voice that confuses me a little. I don¡¯t reply.


    ¡°Please, Tallulah. Talk to me. Tell me what¡¯s wrong. Tell me how I can help.¡±


    There are so many things wrong that I don¡¯t know where to start. The food problem is obvious, and the injury problem. Those are short-term problems, though: I¡¯ll get food soon and my ankle will heal eventually. Beyond that¡­ ¡°There¡¯s just too much,¡± I say. ¡°Too many things to deal with. Too many problems. And I don¡¯t know¡­¡±


    She waits patiently for me to finish my sentence.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I want,¡± I admit. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯m fighting for beyond just keeping afloat and getting by.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re fifteen, Tallulah. You shouldn¡¯t have to have your whole life planned out. Just because Edward has known for his entire life he¡¯ll be Siaril Royal someday doesn¡¯t mean you need to decide now.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not about that,¡± I say. ¡°Not really. I did have a plan. I was going to be a lawyer like my dad, take over his firm one day. And then¡­¡±


    Elsie says nothing. She¡¯s watching me intently, but I don¡¯t feel uncomfortable under her gaze.


    ¡°And then. Well. Falling happened. And ever since I¡¯ve just been muddling through one day at a time.¡±


    ¡°I feel like I¡¯ve been doing that my whole life,¡± Elsie says. ¡°I suppose it would be different, if you had that certainty and lost it. Much harder. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    I open my mouth to tell her not to apologise and realise that would be hypocritical of me. I really ought to stop compulsively apologising. ¡°It¡¯s okay most of the time. I¡¯d be fine if it wasn¡¯t for getting trampled half to death and then becoming headline news.¡±


    Elsie snorts with supressed laughter. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t laugh. It¡¯s serious. I doubt I¡¯d have coped even half as well as you¡¯re doing.¡±


    It¡¯s my time to laugh, this time bitterly. ¡°Look at me. This is not what coping well looks like.¡±


    She does look at me, and she shakes her head. ¡°You¡¯re still here,¡± she says. ¡°Still making it through each day. That¡¯s coping, as far as I¡¯m concerned.¡±


    Maybe she has a point. But there¡¯s a part of me that¡¯s wondering how much longer I can keep doing this. I push myself to my feet, immediately wishing I hadn¡¯t. ¡°Let¡¯s go back,¡± I say.

 54. Breakfast in Bed

    We make it to the kitchens without any further disasters. Not that I was expecting any, but the way my life¡¯s been going recently I couldn¡¯t quite be sure. It¡¯s the first time I¡¯ve been here, though; I don¡¯t know any of the kitchen staff, and it doesn¡¯t feel right to just walk in and beg for food.


    It¡¯s only an hour and a half until the canteen opens for dinner. I can wait that long, can¡¯t I? My stomach protests loudly at that thought. Okay. Fine. I can do this. I glance at Elsie. She glances at me.


    ¡°This was your idea,¡± I tell her.


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who needs food,¡± she replies.


    Worth a try, I suppose. I knock on the door.


    It swings open a second later to reveal a large woman with thick curly hair, holding a dangerously sharp-looking knife. I flinch.


    ¡°Oh, you poor thing!¡± she says. ¡°What happened to you?¡±


    ¡°Tripped over a piece of wood,¡± I say. It¡¯s true; just leaves out most of the details. ¡°But I skipped lunch. And dinner yesterday. I know I shouldn¡¯t have, but I¡¯m really hungry and¡­ do you have any spare food? Please?¡±


    The woman hesitates for a long moment, and then laughs. ¡°I think we could find you a few scraps,¡± she says. ¡°And your friend? Is she a starving waif as well?¡±


    I laugh, but Elsie flinches. ¡°I ¨C no. No. I don¡¯t need food.¡±


    ¡°Scraps and leftovers for one, then, coming right up. Name¡¯s Anne; what¡¯s yours?¡±


    I don¡¯t want to tell her. I just want to be an ordinary starving student who hasn¡¯t figured out how to take care of herself properly. I suddenly understand why Edward was so reluctant to tell me who his father was when we first met. ¡°¡­Tallulah.¡±


    If she recognises my name, she doesn¡¯t show it. ¡°Well, come in, sit yourself down. We¡¯re a little busy, but I think we can manage a stool in the corner.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll go,¡± says Elsie. ¡°If it¡¯s easier.¡±


    I shrug and look to Anne.


    ¡°It would be a bit of a squeeze, but ¨C ¡°


    Elsie is leaving before Anne can finish her sentence. ¡°Bye,¡± I say to the empty air. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there!¡± Anne says, beckoning me in.


    The kitchen is in fact busy: dozens of people scurrying back and forth, chopping and mixing and stirring and preparing. Anne gestures to the promised stool in the corner ¨C it looks too low to be comfortable, but I¡¯m not going to complain when she¡¯s giving me the food I desperately need. A few seconds later she shoves a bowl of soup, complete with spoon, in my direction.


    It¡¯s good soup, too: warm but not so warm it burns my tongue, with a rich tomato-y flavour. I devour it at high speed, as much because I want to get out of the cooks¡¯ way as because I¡¯m starving.


    I feel a little more alive by the time I¡¯m done. I hand my empty bowl to the washer-up, thank Anne again and climb the stairs to my room. I have an essay to finish.


    It only takes me another hour or so to get all my ideas down on paper. The structure ends up a bit of a mess, since I keep finding new ideas as I go, but given the circumstances it¡¯s an acceptable first draft. I¡¯m not sure whether I should even write a second draft, though.


    I¡¯m still replaying my interactions with Elsie in my mind, over and over again. It was good, I think, to talk to her. At least now I know I¡¯m suffering from a lack of purpose, from feeling like I¡¯m going through all this just to survive. Defining the problem is the first step towards solving it.


    It¡¯s just a pity I have no idea what the second step is in this case.


    I set down my quill and reread my conclusion. It¡¯s as good as it¡¯s going to get, realistically. Is that good enough?


    Regardless, it¡¯s not the only thing I need to write today. I reach for a fresh sheet of parchment, take up my quill once more and neatly print my name and address at the top, then my mother¡¯s address ¨C my home address, I tell myself firmly. It is still home.


    Dear Mother,


    It sounds dreadfully formal, but it¡¯s what I¡¯ve always called her. Addressing her as Mum feels deeply, instinctively wrong. And Mrs Roberts would give exactly the opposite impression to what I want.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    I want to apologise for¡­ for what? For not denying Edward¡¯s accusations? For half-believing them? For driving her away? It was Edward who did that, and I can¡¯t even hate him for it. He just doesn¡¯t understand, even if he¡¯s trying.


    what happened on Tuesday afternoon, I write finally. It was never my intention ¨C no, no. That sounds far too formal. She¡¯s my mother, stars, I shouldn¡¯t be writing to her in this stiff and awkward way. But how else am I supposed to do it?


    I¡¯m resorting to that tone because it¡¯s the only way I know to clearly express myself.


    Because I know if I let my real emotions seep through into this letter, it will be an incoherent mess that she¡¯d hate to read. Because I don¡¯t want her to know how I really feel.


    to give you the impression that I¡­


    Once I set emotion aside and focus on just saying what needs to be said as precisely as possible, it flows surprisingly easily. At least until I reflect that I¡¯ve put more of myself into the essay than the letter, and that is not how it should be.


    Stars. Maybe Edward has a point: there is something very wrong with my relationship with Mother if I have to hide behind a mask of formal language to speak to her.


    I take a breath, set the half-written letter aside, and reach for a new sheet of paper. Dear Mother, I miss you. Not the woman who came to the Academy today; the mother you once were. The mother who would read me stories and tuck me in at night. What happened to her? Is this a natural part of growing up, or have you changed as well?


    This letter will not be sent. It¡¯s going to be rambling, poorly structured, and completely honest. But I already think it¡¯s doing me good to write it.


    I even remember to get dinner. Edward has done his usual disappearing act, but Robin, Elizabeth and Elsie are all there. After the way the last few mealtimes have gone I keep expecting to receive a summons to the headmaster¡¯s office to discuss some new disastrous development. No such summons comes, thank the stars.


    Perhaps the worst is over now. Perhaps I can finally be a normal student and have time to find my purpose.


    After everything I¡¯ve been through in the last two months, I struggle to believe that.


    I have to believe it, though; I don¡¯t know how much longer I can keep going like this.


    I at least manage to catch up on sleep that night. I don¡¯t want to go to breakfast, though: the newspapers will have published my answers to their questions now. I¡¯ll be front page news once again. If I just stay in bed, it¡¯s not real.


    That argument convinces me to stay in bed half an hour longer than I should have, and then to study in bed. By the time it¡¯s eight after midnight, Aisha and Hannah have noticed and come to check if I¡¯m okay.


    ¡°Are you¡­ doing Alchemy reading in bed?¡± Hannah asks, pulling my curtains open.


    ¡°Yup.¡± Okay, maybe it¡¯s slightly weird, but there¡¯s no reason for her to sound so incredulous about it.


    ¡°¡­why?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Why not?¡±


    Hannah doesn¡¯t have anything to say to that, but Aisha does: ¡°We¡¯re trying to help, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I mutter. I feel bad; they really do want to help, but I don¡¯t want help. I just want to not have to see the papers. If I go to breakfast, Edward won¡¯t take that excuse, though. Maybe I need someone to force me to look, but it¡¯s the last thing I want. ¡°I don¡¯t want to go down to breakfast. I don¡¯t want to see the news.¡±


    Hannah grins. ¡°Sounds like the perfect day for breakfast in bed, then. You usually get porridge, right?¡±


    I nod, smiling despite myself. Maybe they can help after all; breakfast in bed seems great right now. ¡°Yes. Thank you. Really.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re very welcome,¡± Hannah says. ¡°I¡¯ll be back in five.¡± She flashes me another smile and leaves.


    ¡°You will have to see the news at some point,¡± Aisha says. ¡°Isn¡¯t it better to read it yourself than to hear distorted gossip?¡±


    I force myself not to laugh at the idea that whatever the papers are printing about me beyond my own words is worth anything more than distorted gossip. ¡°I know that,¡± I say. ¡°But sometimes just because you know what the right thing to do is doesn¡¯t mean you can do it.¡±


    Aisha nods. ¡°Of course. You can¡¯t just keep pushing through everything forever and hoping that¡¯ll fix things.¡±


    I have learnt that lesson the hard way. After a while, you just can¡¯t any more, and something snaps.


    ¡°How is the Alchemy reading going, actually?¡± Aisha asks, sitting down on the edge of my bed. ¡°I always find it really difficult to know what sort of notes we¡¯re supposed to take.¡±


    It¡¯s a blatant attempt to change the subject, but I would quite like the subject to change. ¡°Well, I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a single right way to do it¡­¡±


    We talk about that and other classwork for a few minutes until Hannah returns bearing a large bowl of porridge.


    ¡°I¡¯ve just been interrogated about your whereabouts,¡± she announces.


    ¡°Edward,¡± I say. There¡¯s no need to ask who. I guess I should have realised he¡¯d be worried about me not turning up to breakfast.


    ¡°I swear, that boy is almost as terrifying as his father ¨C no offence, Tallulah ¨C I¡¯m sure he¡¯s a perfectly good friend, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No offence taken,¡± I say. ¡°He might take offence if he hears you talking about him like that, though. What did you tell him?¡±


    ¡°The truth, of course. I couldn¡¯t lie to save my life. He says he¡¯ll want to discuss things with you over break.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Of course he will.¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C ¡° Hannah says, realising she¡¯s still holding the porridge bowl. ¡°Here you are ¨C ¡° she hands me the bowl and a spoon. The bowl is still warm; either she practically ran back or she¡¯s been using magic to stop it cooling.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± I shovel a spoonful into my mouth. It¡¯s just as good as ever. ¡°Really. Thanks.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. If I¡¯d known we¡¯d be doing this I wouldn¡¯t have eaten earlier. We could have had a breakfast-in-bed day for all of us.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Sorry. I can arrange for your name to be headline news if you want an excuse to have your own breakfast in bed?¡±


    Stars, I probably could if I really wanted to and didn¡¯t care about little details like the truth.


    That terrifies me, but it also makes me wonder whether I can use this somehow, to tell the story I want people to hear. I doubt redeeming the Blackthorns in the public eye would go well, though.


    ¡°Please, no,¡± Hannah says. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I don¡¯t know what for, but I¡¯m sorry. Please don¡¯t do that to me.¡±


    I think she¡¯s teasing, but it¡¯s hard to tell. ¡°Fine,¡± I say, drawing the word out with fake reluctance.


    Aisha laughs. ¡°If this is blackmail, I give in.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not blackmailing you. Edward hasn¡¯t corrupted me that much.¡±


    We laugh and joke a while longer, as long as it takes me to finish eating. At which point I realise there are fifteen minutes until lessons start and I have yet to get out of my pyjamas. Hannah volunteers to run my empty bowl back to the kitchens while I change.

 55. Emergency Enchantments

    Edward is less than happy when I hobble into Spells with a minute to spare, but I¡¯m not surprised he doesn¡¯t want to discuss my absence from breakfast where Felicity can hear us. She thankfully refrains from making any snide remarks about this morning¡¯s papers, so I¡¯m spared finding out how they¡¯ve twisted my words for a little longer.


    I abandon him for Magical Theory (where I sit with Elsie; neither of us want the other to sit alone). It¡¯s a particularly mathematical lesson today, and my mind is slow and unresponsive; I struggle to follow the lesson and focus on taking clear notes so that my future self will be able to understand better than I can.


    I¡¯m only a little surprised to find Edward waiting outside the classroom when lessons end. ¡°We need to talk,¡± he says.


    ¡°Please don¡¯t make me climb all the way to the private meeting rooms.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°I don¡¯t think we¡¯ll be discussing state secrets.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡±


    We make it to an empty study room instead. I spend our walk there trying to read him, to figure out why he¡¯s annoyed at me. Is it hiding from the papers? He might not agree with what I did, but I think he¡¯d still at least sympathise, so I doubt it¡¯s that.


    I¡¯m not left in too much suspense, at least; as soon as the door swings shut he hisses ¡°What were you thinking?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry?¡± I try. ¡°I just¡­ I couldn¡¯t face seeing them turn me into something I¡¯m not.¡±


    ¡°You could still have come down and told me that. I wouldn¡¯t have shown them to you if you didn¡¯t want me to.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. I wasn¡¯t sure ¨C just with everyone staring at me as well ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You don¡¯t get it, do you?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so. Is it another one of those Blackthorn things?¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°I¡¯m beginning to think it must be. When someone deviates significantly from their established routine¡­ that¡¯s a sign that something is wrong.¡±


    ¡°Something was wrong,¡± I point out.


    ¡°Not that sort of something. It means they¡¯re up to something, or they¡¯re in trouble. I trust you enough to rule out the former, so ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re saying that because I didn¡¯t come down for breakfast, you thought I¡¯d been¡­ attacked? Abducted?¡±


    ¡°When you put it like that it sounds ridiculous.¡±


    ¡°How would you put it, then?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°You¡¯re right. It is ridiculous. It¡¯s just¡­ I¡¯m worried about you, Tallulah. You shouldn¡¯t have to deal with any of this.¡±


    It¡¯s the same thing Elsie said to me earlier, but it sounds very different coming from Edward starry Blackthorn who¡¯s been dealing with this for months at least. ¡°And you should?¡±


    Edward pauses and blinks once. ¡°Turns out the incredible wealth and magical talent have a price, I guess.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works.¡±


    ¡°Not how it should work,¡± Edward corrects. ¡°But it¡¯s how it does. And you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°We¡¯ve been through this already,¡± I tell him firmly. ¡°Turns out the best friend I¡¯ve ever had has a price. And I will gladly pay it.¡±


    That silences him for a moment. ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°I suppose I have to accept that, don¡¯t I? So neither of us should have to deal with this, but we¡¯re both stuck with it. And I¡¯m still worried about you, because unlike me you haven¡¯t been trained in how to deal with this.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know any more about dealing with the papers than I do. You came to me for help.¡±


    ¡°Okay, maybe not this specifically. But defending myself. Finding the resources I need. Playing politics. If you¡¯re getting dragged into the mess that is the country¡¯s affairs, you need to know how to survive it.¡±


    He has a point. ¡°Are you offering lessons?¡±


    ¡°Do you want them?¡±


    I hesitate.


    ¡°Serious question. I will teach you whatever you want to learn from me. But¡­ I didn¡¯t realise this until I got to know you, but the lessons have a price as well. Once you¡¯ve learnt to think in the right ways, you can never switch it off.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­ learning these things would corrupt me?¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking, yes. I don¡¯t want you to become like me.¡±


    There¡¯s something very sad about hearing him say that. ¡°Give me time to think about it?¡±


    ¡°Of course. All the time you need. I am going to teach you defensive magic regardless, though, as soon as your ankle has recovered. My dad will be on the case otherwise.¡±


    My ankle feels a little better today, actually; I didn¡¯t notice it until he mentioned it, but the pain is less than it has been. Maybe soon I¡¯ll be healed of at least the physical wounds of that day.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°I realised something recently,¡± I say. ¡°That I don¡¯t have a purpose.¡±


    Edward raises his eyebrows and waits for me to elaborate.


    ¡°I guess you won¡¯t relate to this much, since you have your purpose, but¡­ I don¡¯t want to be just struggling to survive, to qualify as a magician and then¡­¡±


    He nods. ¡°You¡¯re right. I don¡¯t relate to that. But survival on its own is worth fighting for. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s something you can decide consciously; it¡¯ll come, if you give it time.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°And sorry I snapped at you. I was worried, but that¡¯s not an excuse.¡±


    I wonder what the Blackthorns¡¯ many enemies would say if they could see him now, apologising sincerely and offering me sensible advice. Probably that it was part of some elaborate plot ¨C or worse, that of course he¡¯d be nice to his people.


    I receive a mysterious parcel at lunchtime, and open it right there in the post room without thinking. It contains a metal ring, a book, two boxes (one of metal and the other of wood) and a note.


    Miss Roberts,


    Since I had to leave so abruptly after our last meeting I was unable to give you any recognition codes. I will ask Edward to pass on certain of those codes, but for now I trust that the following will prove that this parcel was in fact sent by me ¨C


    I laugh. I don¡¯t think I need any further evidence that this is indeed from Lord Blackthorn, but he quotes several lines from our past conversations and adds that the packaging is enchanted to reveal whether it has been tampered with (it hasn¡¯t).


    I¡¯m instructed to keep all of the items except possibly the book on my person at all times, ask Edward to demonstrate their usage as soon as possible, and not reveal I possess any of them unless absolutely necessary. I shoot the woman working in the post room a nervous glance as I gather the enchanted objects up and hide them in the depths of my satchel.


    There is something rather fun about receiving a parcel of enchanted gadgets from a spymaster. My inner seven-year-old enjoys it, anyway, but I can¡¯t quite let go of the implications. None of this is a game; I¡¯ve found that out the hard way already.


    Edward takes me to a private meeting room once we¡¯ve eaten for my lessons in what the enchanted objects I¡¯ve just received are and how to use them. The book is titled An Elementary Study of the Theory of Partial Enchantments, but its pages are blank.


    ¡°It¡¯s for sensitive information,¡± Edward says. ¡°Notes on important events or conversations, emergency contacts ¨C I¡¯m supposed to give you those as well ¨C anything you don¡¯t think you can memorise but need to have recorded. Enchanted so no-one but you can open it, or it will be once I¡¯ve shown you how to activate it. My dad says he¡¯s set some of the best enchanters he knows on it and it took them a week to break his work, so it¡¯s far from perfect but ¨C ¡°


    I hold up my hands in surrender. ¡°Look. I don¡¯t really need to know how hard it would be to subvert all these things. I don¡¯t even really want them. Just show me how they work, okay?¡±


    ¡°Friendly advice,¡± Edward replies. ¡°Never let my dad hear you say that unless you want a detailed lecture on operational security.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Noted. So. That¡¯s the book. The ring?¡± I remove it from my satchel and let it sit in my palm. It¡¯s a thin metal band with a diamond ¨C probably real given who it came from ¨C embedded in it, and doesn¡¯t look particularly special.


    Edward hesitates, then shakes his head. ¡°We need to improve the privacy wards at this point. I think ¨C ¡° he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a piece of chalk ¨C ¡°I can manage a basic sound-proofing ward at this point ¨C ¡°


    He kneels down and draws a circle a couple of metres in diameter on the floor, with me at its centre, then sketches a symbol just in front of me and places his hand on it for a second. ¡°There. That should work. No sound from within this circle can reach outside until we break the ward.¡±


    I¡¯m wondering if this is really necessary, and whether there¡¯s a realistic chance people happen to be spying on us at this specific moment, but I know Edward well enough by now not to say that. ¡°So. The ring.¡±


    ¡°Allows you to transmit signals remotely to the person with the sympathetically linked ring ¨C in this case, my dad. He can use them to work out your approximate location. You press the diamond down to send a message ¨C no, don¡¯t do it now ¨C not unless you have to.¡±


    I move my other hand hastily away from the ring.


    ¡°The code is one press for come at once, I¡¯m in danger, two for come soon, I could use your help, three for I¡¯m safe and four for I¡¯m sending this message under duress.¡±


    It¡¯s a struggle not to react visibly to that last one. I tell myself that I¡¯ve already nearly died once and probably would have died if Edward hadn¡¯t been able to summon his father¡¯s help, and that I never know when something equally disastrous could happen again. I tell myself that these are sensible, rational precautions.


    ¡°And if you receive a signal ¨C you¡¯ll know when it happens, the ring vibrates on your finger ¨C reply immediately unless you want a team of Birds descending on your location.¡±


    ¡°¡­birds?¡± I repeat. I¡¯ve heard them mentioned before, but can¡¯t quite recall the context.


    ¡°Oh. Right. That¡¯s not technically classified, but it¡¯s Intelligence terminology that isn¡¯t spread too widely outside. They¡¯re one of the SMO groups. It¡¯s a joint project between the Army and Intelligence but they answer to the Minister. Mostly they end up doing covert security detail and wardwork, though¡­ actually, no, the details of how they¡¯re used are classified. You can probably guess at least the broad picture though.¡±


    Those people who were with Lord Blackthorn on the Abbey steps that day; they must have been Birds. I¡¯m not sure I particularly want to take guesses at the broad picture. ¡°Classified. Got it.¡± I slip the ring onto my finger. It isn¡¯t as heavy as it looks; before long I¡¯ll probably forget it¡¯s even there. ¡°Boxes,¡± I say.


    Edward picks up the wooden one and opens it to reveal half a dozen smooth, round pebbles.


    ¡°I¡­ take it those aren¡¯t ordinary stones?¡±


    ¡°What gave it away?¡± Edward laughs. ¡°They¡¯re ward-stones.¡±


    Of course Lord Blackthorn is giving me ward-stones. They¡¯re absurdly hard to manufacture and as such cost a small fortune; just the thing to give to your son¡¯s friend for emergencies. Ward-stones allow a magician to set up a makeshift ward around their location ¨C they¡¯re much less stable than full wards but can be activated in seconds rather than the minutes to hours it would take to construct the latter.


    ¡°Ward-stones,¡± I repeat. ¡°Right. What ward does this specific set make?¡±


    ¡°Complete privacy,¡± Edward replies. ¡°Blocking sound and blurring light travelling outwards, no-one can get in and no spells can be cast from exterior to interior.¡±


    Yeah. Even for Lord Blackthorn, producing ward-stones with as complex an effect as that isn¡¯t easy. He must be taking my safety very seriously. The thought disturbs me more than anything else.


    ¡°You know how to use them?¡±


    Sort of; I¡¯ve read about them but have obviously never seen one physically before. ¡°Let¡¯s say I don¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°I know you¡¯re dying to explain it to me.¡±


    ¡°Place them on the ground around you in a regular hexagonal pattern, and channel magic into each one in turn. That simple. Don¡¯t test it, though ¨C apparently these are complex enough they¡¯ll only last two or three uses.¡±


    ¡°Save it for an actual emergency, then. That just leaves¡­¡± I gesture to the second box, the metal one.


    ¡°Perfectly normal box,¡± Edward says, opening it to show that it¡¯s empty.


    ¡°Yeah, right.¡±


    ¡°Perfectly normal box that can be enchanted so that only you can open it, like the book.¡±


    That sounds significantly more plausible.


    ¡°Shall I show you how to do that?¡±


    I don¡¯t want to know how to activate my new enchantments. Even the fact of accepting them makes me feel a little closer to being a Blackthorn. With all due respect to both Edward and his father, I will never be one of them and I¡¯d never want to be.


    Still. It¡¯s this or making Lord Blackthorn angry with me, and I do not want Lord Blackthorn to be angry with me. ¡°Yes. Please.¡±

 56. Post

    Fortunately it¡¯s not that complicated to activate the enchantments; we manage it that evening. I would have been completely unable to figure it out on my own, but Edward knows exactly what he''s doing. Not that that¡¯s a surprise.


    That done, I find to my surprise that I don¡¯t have homework due, and I don¡¯t have to deal with the newspapers (at least, not urgently). Edward offers me more lessons in advanced enchantments, but I¡¯m suddenly just so tired. ¡°Maybe tomorrow? I need to rest.¡±


    ¡°Understandable,¡± Edward says. ¡°Honestly I¡¯m impressed you made it this far.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t seem impressive just surviving, but maybe that¡¯s all I can do.


    I make it all the way back to my dormitory and am about to collapse onto my bed when I remember the half-written letter to my mother. Does it really have to be done now? No: I¡¯ve put this off long enough.


    I have two paragraphs of precise, formal writing. They set out that I do not in any way hate her or feel she has failed as a mother, and that I apologise greatly for giving that impression when we met on Tuesday. I remember then where I got stuck and why: Edward is the problem.


    I need to convey that I disagree with everything he said that day ¨C whether or not I in fact do ¨C while also making it clear that he is my friend, that he has not corrupted me, and that nothing she says or does could change that.


    She thinks that day was a choice, though, between her and Edward. She thinks I chose him. And I know from bitter experience that when she gets it into her head that things are a certain way, it¡¯s nearly impossible to change her mind.


    It doesn¡¯t matter how well-formulated and elegant your arguments are if the person you¡¯re trying to convince just won¡¯t listen.


    Stars. That¡¯s what scares me.


    Well. That and the fact that if she continues to not listen, I might find myself with no home to go back to.


    I also want to apologise on Edward¡¯s behalf, I write slowly, focusing on making each letter neat and precise, for everything he said to you. He was angry on my behalf and looking for someone to blame; he doesn¡¯t know you. I have explained to him that none of what¡¯s happened is your fault.


    Writing such a blatant lie makes me cringe a little. I made no such attempt, and I¡¯m not going to. If the only way I can reconcile myself with her is by lying, should I even be trying?


    She¡¯s still my mother. I still love her. I can¡¯t just give up on her. Without a proper relationship with my parents, I¡¯d become even more dependent on the Blackthorns than I already am.


    I trust Edward absolutely, but I very much do not trust his father.


    But I also want to explain to you that neither is it his fault. I know you¡¯re probably assuming the worst already, but¡­ I can just imagine her face as she reads my words. What am I doing, trying to justify Edward Blackthorn to her? How dare I? Maybe she¡¯s crumpling up the letter and throwing it away in disgust before even reading my attempt at an explanation.


    I¡¯ll just have to hope she doesn¡¯t. It¡¯s all I can do now.


    I force down another couple of formal paragraphs and sign myself your loving daughter, Tallulah. That isn¡¯t a lie. I do love her. Stars, why am I having to convince myself of that?


    There. I¡¯ve done it. I¡¯ll look over it again tomorrow; for now, I can just rest.


    Despite my resolution, sleep doesn¡¯t come easily. I¡¯m convinced there¡¯s something I¡¯m forgetting: an assignment due the next morning that I haven¡¯t started, or more questions from the reporters to answer or letters to write or meetings to have. I lie awake for a long while wondering what I¡¯ve forgotten.


    When I do sleep, it¡¯s fitful; shadowy figures stalk my dreams. I can¡¯t even work out what they¡¯re supposed to represent. I feel a little better in the morning, though. I¡¯ve survived the worst of it now; I just need to send the letter to my mother and then I can go back to being a relatively normal student of magic.


    It doesn¡¯t work out like that. I shouldn¡¯t even be surprised by this point. I wash and dress, look over my letter and walk down to the post room to seal and send it. Which is when I discover that I have rather a lot of post.


    ¡°With respect, Mr Blackthorn,¡± the tired-looking mail worker is saying, ¡°I can¡¯t simply let you take mail addressed to another student without their explicit permission.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah is my friend. She¡¯ll give me permission,¡± Edward says, that familiar intensity in his voice.


    ¡°Be that as it may, I do need to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say. ¡°Edward has my permission.¡±


    He spins round. ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says, warily.


    ¡°What did you need my permission for?¡±


    ¡°It seems that rather a lot of people read yesterday¡¯s papers and your words printed in them and decided the appropriate response was to send you a letter. I wanted to sort through them for you. Sorry for being so insistent, by the way, ma¡¯am,¡± he adds to the mail worker. ¡°Your insistence on following correct security procedures is commendable.¡±


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    The poor woman just looks mildly confused at that. ¡°¡­thanks?¡±


    Edward is going to need a lesson in what normal people do and don¡¯t see as compliments.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± I say to her. ¡°I¡¯d like to send this letter please. And to pick up my post, I suppose.¡±


    There¡¯s a small sack full of it. I make Edward carry it, because he was so keen on collecting it for me, and we set off to get breakfast before getting to work.


    ¡°I will still sort through it for you,¡± he says.


    ¡°I can sort through it myself,¡± I say, a little tension in my voice.


    ¡°Oh, right. That sounds kind of¡­¡±


    ¡°Controlling?¡± I ask; it comes out harsher than I meant it. I know Edward wouldn¡¯t intentionally try to control me, but I wouldn¡¯t be overly surprised if he just thought it was being helpful and sparing me pain.


    ¡°Well. Yes. That¡¯s not what I¡¯m trying to do, though. I¡¯ll pass on anything important or anything you need to respond to. It¡¯s just to save you time.¡±


    ¡°By spending your own instead,¡± I say. Not that I don¡¯t appreciate it, and not that I particularly like the idea of sorting through the pile myself, but it doesn¡¯t feel quite right. ¡°We could do it together. Then it¡¯s done in half the time and neither of us has to suffer alone.¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°I¡¯ve taught you too well, haven¡¯t I? Now I can¡¯t hide my intentions from you properly. Fine. You win. Remember back when we first met, when I also got far too many letters like this?¡±


    I do remember. Was it really only a couple of months ago? It seems an eternity. ¡°¡­yeah?¡±


    ¡°Some of them said some¡­ rather unpleasant things about me. It seems likely there¡¯ll be people saying unpleasant things about you. I¡¯d rather you didn¡¯t have to read those things.¡±


    ¡°¡­oh,¡± I say. I understand now: he¡¯s trying to protect me. I appreciate it, I really do. ¡°I don¡¯t want you to have to read those things either.¡±


    ¡°Someone has to,¡± he says.


    ¡°Then it should be me. This is my problem.¡±


    ¡°Which I am largely responsible for.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Edward. I don¡¯t need you to protect me.¡±


    He stops on the staircase and turns to face me. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    I hate that he asks me that. I hate that I have to ask myself whether I do need his protection and I¡¯m just too stubborn to admit it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to,¡± I say. ¡°You have more than enough to worry about without having to look after me. I don¡¯t want to be the one slowing you down because you¡¯re always having to check whether I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°You want to be partners. Equal partners.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I hadn¡¯t quite thought about it in those terms, but he¡¯s right.


    ¡°Tallulah.¡± He hesitates. ¡°You should know me well enough by now to realise that when I say that right now that isn¡¯t going to work¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a statement of fact, not an insult. Yes.¡±


    It hurts a little to admit that, but he¡¯s right.


    ¡°And that you might not want to become the person who could make it work.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°I do. If the world is going to keep throwing these problems at me, I want to be someone who¡¯s capable of dealing with them without breaking.¡±


    At some point I must have reached clarity without realising it, because it seems obvious now. I can¡¯t keep going in this awkward middle ground, caught up in schemes of politics and power without understanding them. Either I quit ¨C which would mean abandoning Edward, which is completely out of the question ¨C or I learn how to play.


    ¡°Teach me. Please.¡±


    Edward laughs bitterly. ¡°I don¡¯t have it all figured out. I¡¯ve made a lot of mistakes, and I¡¯m going to make a lot more if I survive them all.¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll figure it all out,¡± I say, ¡°together.¡±


    ¡°Everything I¡¯ve learnt is telling me that you¡¯re being hopelessly na?ve.¡±


    I flinch.


    ¡°That just because there are two of us now doesn¡¯t mean we can do anything. It doesn¡¯t make us any more than a pair of inexperienced teenagers.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re ¨C ¡°


    ¡°But I want to believe you. Stars, I want to believe you so much.¡± He offers me his hand, an overly formal gesture that he somehow makes not look awkward. ¡°Tallulah Roberts,¡± he says, ¡°would you like to change the world together?¡±


    I adjust my grip on my crutches so I can free a hand without losing my balance, then take his. ¡°Edward Blackthorn, it would be an honour.¡±


    He grins. ¡°Step One of my brilliant plan: get breakfast.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s how all the best plans start,¡± I say, laughing.


    So that¡¯s what we do. Step One is an unmitigated success. Step Two, on the other hand, is dealing with the sack of post we¡¯ve been trying our hardest to ignore while eating.


    Edward reserves a meeting room, and I¡¯m pleasantly surprised by the fact I can haul myself up the stairs much more easily than I could have a couple of days ago. I don¡¯t think it¡¯ll be long before I can ditch the crutches altogether.


    He unceremoniously opens the sack and tips the letters out into a heap. ¡°You get first pick,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t touch any of this, you never know what enchantments or contact poisons could be lurking in there.¡±


    I would really have preferred not to receive that kind of warning. ¡°And¡­ how, precisely, am I expected to open letters without touching them?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a magician, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    Right. Yes. I am a magician. I fix my gaze on the nearest envelope and attack it with a weak cutting-spell. I¡¯m not used to such precise work, so it¡¯s a pleasant surprise that I get the intended result: a thin strip at the top of the envelope tears off, leaving a thin piece of cream-coloured paper visible.


    I use a General Animation Spell to remove the letter from the envelope, unfold it and bring it close enough to read. There¡¯s only a single sentence: STAY AWAY FROM BLACKTHORNS IF YOU KNOW WHAT¡¯S GOOD FOR YOU, GIRL.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, ¡°you wouldn¡¯t want to read this one.¡±


    He grimaces. ¡°My turn?¡±


    It¡¯s just words, I tell myself. They can¡¯t hurt me.


    I tell myself that many more times over the next hour.


    Most of the letters are of that general nature, though some are more personal attacks and many also contain various insults and slurs. It¡¯s easier when there are two of us, and we can mock them viciously to pretend they don¡¯t hurt us. Though there¡¯s only so many times you can critique the spelling of someone threatening to kill all Blackthorns before it loses its humour.


    There are some that can¡¯t be so easily dismissed, though, because they¡¯re not threats at all. One girl has written to me thanking me: reading about my extraordinary bravery gave her the courage to stand up to a bully who hasn¡¯t bothered her since.


    ¡°Good for her,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°But I ¨C ¡°


    He waits for me to find the words.


    ¡°I¡¯m not extraordinarily brave. I¡¯m not a hero, or a role model, I¡¯m just ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    I stop.


    ¡°Lesson in politics. Don¡¯t deny your successes.¡±


    That was not what I expected him to say.


    ¡°People are going to underestimate you, because you¡¯re an inexperienced teenager. Sometimes you want that to be the case, but if you want people to take you seriously? You¡¯re going to need to be more than that. You need to be the girl who persuaded the Black Raven to show mercy and lived to tell the tale. Which you did,¡± he adds.


    ¡°But it wasn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to believe in your own legend. It¡¯s probably best if you don¡¯t. But you need to pretend you do.¡±


    I can do that. I can definitely do that. What could possibly go wrong?

 57. Not a Trap

    That isn¡¯t even the most remarkable letter anyone¡¯s written me. Even once we¡¯ve filtered out the threats and conspiracy theories ¨C which make up the vast majority of the pile ¨C there¡¯s still quite a lot to process.


    There¡¯s a letter from a mysterious figure offering me ill-defined protection from the powerful enemies I¡¯ve made in exchange for some equally ill-defined price. I wouldn¡¯t have accepted an offer like that even if the Blackthorns were my enemies rather than helping me deal with this.


    ¡°Though actually,¡± Edward muses, having concluded a brief rant on how idiotic this mysterious figure is to really think something like that would work, ¡°if we want to find out who this is ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I am not spying for your father,¡± I spit hastily.


    Edward takes a step back and lifts his hands in surrender. ¡°All right. No recruiting you as a spy. Got it.¡± He pauses, and his face clouds.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°My dad,¡± he says, ¡°might not ask your permission first.¡±


    No. He might not. After everything Lord Blackthorn has already done to me, I wouldn¡¯t be the slightest bit surprised if he decided to use me as bait to catch someone thinking they can use me in their own schemes.


    Stars. I hate the fact I¡¯m having to contemplate things like that. It only reinforces my earlier resolution, though: it looks as if I¡¯m stuck in this mess whether I like it or not, so my best option is to learn how to survive it.


    ¡°I think I can persuade him not to ¨C well, do that ¨C though. If I make it clear enough that I won¡¯t accept you being in danger, he¡¯ll listen to me.¡±


    He sounds a lot more confident than I feel. But then, I suppose, it is his father. He knows Lord Blackthorn far better than I do.


    Maybe he knows his father too well, and can¡¯t see the full extent of his ruthlessness and commitment to protecting the country at any cost.


    I shake my head; I haven¡¯t been corrupted enough that I can contemplate that sort of thing while keeping whatever remains of my sanity. It¡¯s fine. Lord Blackthorn cares about my continued existence.


    The fact that actually reassures me is the most terrifying thing of all.


    I levitate another letter out of its envelope and freeze as I see it.


    Miss Roberts, it says, if you are as the reports suggest a friend of Edward Blackthorn and not of his father, could I ask you to deliver the enclosed to Edward? My deepest gratitude.


    It¡¯s signed with a name that might be Sylvie.


    Another General Animation Spell reveals a second, smaller envelope inside the first, addressed to my dearest Edward.


    I nudge him and point to the letter and the envelope. ¡°Any ideas ¨C ¡°


    He says nothing, but tears open the smaller envelope with a fierce swipe of his hand and floats the note it contains towards him.


    I watch his expression closely; it becomes tenser, more guarded, as he reads. ¡°It¡¯s from my mother,¡± he says. ¡°Apparently she¡¯s been trying to contact me for months, but my dad¡¯s been intercepting her letters.¡±


    I flinch. It¡¯s nothing compared to other things Edward¡¯s father has done, but it doesn¡¯t feel like nothing. ¡°You¡¯re saying he was searching your post, and he removed letters from your mother but not¡­ not everything else?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the only way to make sure I wouldn¡¯t find out. I would have been surprised not to receive that much post after the statement. And I guess he didn¡¯t want me knowing he was doing it. I don¡¯t know why I¡¯m surprised.¡±


    There¡¯s genuine pain in his voice. I didn¡¯t expect that. I don¡¯t quite know what to say, so I open my arms and offer him a hug.


    He falls into my arms, nearly throwing me off-balance for a second. We hold each other for a long moment. ¡°Thank you,¡± he says after a while.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s in the City. She wants to meet.¡±


    ¡°Will you go?¡±


    Edward hesitates. ¡°I think so. She deserves that much, at least. I understand you a bit better now.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°When you said your mother should still deserve your love and respect, no matter what she¡¯s done. Even if mine abandoned me, if she wants to change that now then I should at least give her that chance.¡±


    ¡°If you want me to come with you ¨C ¡°


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    Edward steps away and studies me for a second. ¡°I might want that, actually. If I¡¯m going to pretend to her that I¡¯m a normal person, I¡¯ll need your help.¡±


    I laugh involuntarily. ¡°I don¡¯t think my help would be enough for that.¡±


    ¡°Better than nothing, though.¡±


    ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°Tomorrow afternoon. Meet in Queen¡¯s Park. Which is good, because it¡¯s a public place so if it¡¯s a trap ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If ¨C what ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m just saying,¡± he says. ¡°If someone wanted to lure me into a trap, impersonating my mother in a letter would be a pretty good way to go about it. It guarantees I won¡¯t tell my dad about it in case it¡¯s real. It¡¯s unlikely, though ¨C she called me, uh, something she used to call me when I was younger, so an impersonator would have had to know about that ¨C ¡°


    I understand suddenly what he means about the lessons in politics and power and paranoia being a curse. The curse is that you can¡¯t get a letter from your long-lost mother without having to consider the possibility that it¡¯s actually from someone impersonating your long-lost mother to hurt you and by extension your father.


    ¡°Though on second thoughts ¨C hmm. How much do you trust Elsie?¡±


    ¡°Elsie ¨C why ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I need someone to be there who can fetch help immediately if it is a trap. And it can¡¯t be you, because after the last week you¡¯re recognisably my friend ¨C in fact, maybe you shouldn¡¯t come if it would put you in danger ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward, this is not a trap ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I can¡¯t just ignore the possibility. I am not going to be the kind of utter idiot who gets kidnapped because he walks into an obvious trap without taking any kind of precautions ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I do have to ¨C ¡°


    Something falls into place then. He¡¯s serious about this, and not in the way I¡¯ve seen him be serious about security precautions before. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be the first time,¡± I say carefully. ¡°Would it?¡±


    I know I¡¯m right as soon as I see him sigh instead of denying it. ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡°


    I don¡¯t push him, even though I want nothing more than to understand what¡¯s happened to him. He never pried into my secrets, so I owe the same to him. ¡°It¡¯s okay if you don¡¯t want to tell me,¡± I say.


    ¡°No ¨C no ¨C I want to tell you, it¡¯s just ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Classified,¡± I finish.


    He nods. ¡°I trust you, Tallulah. Absolutely. But¡­ even if I set up additional privacy wards, I don¡¯t think I could completely guarantee no-one would hear it. And for something like this? Nothing less is enough.¡±


    I nod. ¡°Okay.¡±


    Edward gives me a sceptical look.


    ¡°Really. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯d like to know, if you¡¯ll tell me, but I don¡¯t need to know, and if you don¡¯t feel safe telling me ¨C then don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± he says. ¡°I do want to tell you. You deserve to know, after everything we¡¯ve been through together, and besides it doesn¡¯t feel fair that I know your story and you don¡¯t know mine. If you stay at my place for Holy Days, I¡¯ll tell you then.¡±


    I wince at that unwelcome reminder. ¡°I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happening ¨C ¡°


    ¡°With your mother?¡± He nods. ¡°I know. You don¡¯t have to come. But if you want to, you¡¯re welcome to stay as long as you like. It¡¯s the least I can do, considering it¡¯s my fault you¡¯re in this mess in the first place.¡±


    In this one case, Edward is correct to blame himself. If he hadn¡¯t verbally attacked my mother the way he did, I doubt things would have escalated to the extent they did. I don¡¯t think there would have been any difficulties with my going home for Holy Days.


    ¡°Thank you for the offer,¡± I say. ¡°I appreciate it.¡±


    ¡°Please come. The thought of you spending a month with that woman ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    Edward stops immediately. ¡°Shall we get back to my family drama instead of yours?¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°Certainly, if you like.¡±


    ¡°The sensible thing is to tell my father,¡± Edward says. ¡°Anything else is an unnecessary risk. I should do that.¡±


    ¡°But if you do that¡­ he won¡¯t let you meet her.¡±


    Edward nods.


    Why is Lord Blackthorn trying to keep Edward and his mother apart? He doesn¡¯t seem the type for petty jealousy or wanting to make his ex-wife suffer, even if she did damage his reputation by cheating on him and getting caught. Which means he must be worried about the influence she could have on Edward.


    Worried she could turn Edward against him.


    It takes all my self-restraint not to point out that if Edward does turn against his father, it¡¯ll be no-one¡¯s fault but Lord Blackthorn¡¯s.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s worth the risk,¡± Edward muses. ¡°If it is a trap¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do you know that?¡±


    I don¡¯t, and he knows I don¡¯t, but I hope desperately that it isn¡¯t. Edward needs a real mother, a normal woman who cares deeply about him. He needs to be able to trust her.


    ¡°We can figure something out,¡± I say. ¡°Take precautions ourselves.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Hence why I was asking about Elsie. But we need her to be able to act instantly, which means ¨C I need to put extra privacy wards up, don¡¯t know why I haven¡¯t already ¨C ¡° He sketches out the same chalk circle as before, more swiftly this time, and channels magic into the symbol that activates it.


    ¡°It would mean giving her one of our rings,¡± he continues smoothly. ¡°And quite apart from the inherent risk of not having them ourselves, even if it¡¯s just for a moment¡­ their existence is extremely secret. And no disrespect to Elsie, but she was friends with Mildred ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That was before ¨C ¡°


    ¡°How do you know she¡¯s not spying on us?¡±


    I stare at him in numb silence for a few seconds. ¡°Edward. Stop. I don¡¯t want to have to contemplate the possibility that my friends are spies ¨C ¡°


    He shakes his head viciously. ¡°You can¡¯t just ignore the possibility because you hope it¡¯s not true ¨C ¡°


    Stars. No wonder he¡¯s antisocial. It¡¯s a miracle he ever trusted me enough that we could become friends. ¡°You can¡¯t live like that. At some point you have to trust people.¡±


    ¡°This is what I¡¯ve been telling you. The price. Still sure you want to pay it?¡±


    Yes. I¡¯m beginning to understand now that this is what he means. ¡°I¡¯ve come too far to stop now. But there has to be some middle ground ¨C a way to stay safe without driving yourself mad with loneliness and paranoia ¨C ¡°


    There¡¯s a strange look in Edward¡¯s eyes as he studies me. ¡°You haven¡¯t realised?¡± he asks.


    I can¡¯t tell if he¡¯s speaking rhetorically or not, so I don¡¯t answer.


    ¡°You are my middle ground, Tallulah. Without you I would have snapped a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°But I haven¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to do anything. Just keep being yourself and keep tolerating my presence. That¡¯s all I need from you.¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I suppose I could put up with you a while longer.¡± I¡¯m genuinely touched, though, and I don¡¯t quite know how to process his words.


    ¡°Good to know. I¡¯d offer to be the same for you, but I think I¡¯m doing a lot more harm than good in that regard.¡±


    He¡¯s joking, but it¡¯s hard to deny. ¡°I¡¯ll work something out,¡± I say. ¡°Somehow.¡±


    ¡°If anyone can do that, it¡¯s you.¡±


    It takes me a second to realise that he really means that, and another second for it to sink in. Edward Blackthorn thinks I¡¯m special. He thinks I¡¯m extraordinary.


    Stars.

 58. Reunion

    We¡¯re nearly late for the morning¡¯s first lesson ¨C by the time one of us thinks to check the time there are only five minutes until Alchemy, and we can¡¯t just abandon the meeting room with torn envelopes and papers scattered all over the floor. Edward doesn¡¯t want to get into trouble for not leaving the room tidy; he¡¯s worried about losing the privilege of being able to reserve meeting rooms.


    ¡°I think the Board of Governors are more afraid of my father than they hate him, but it¡¯s not worth taking the risk,¡± he says, frantically stuffing the last few unopened letters back into the post-sack.


    I keep my expression carefully blank and focus on disposing of the letters that have been opened without touching them. It¡¯s not easy to do that under time pressure; Edward ends up doing most of the work, but we have everything tidied away with two minutes to spare.


    It¡¯s just a pity that the Alchemy labs are in the basement, about as far away from here as you can get without leaving the Academy¡¯s main building. We¡¯ll have to run. And while my leg is a lot better than it has been, I still don¡¯t think I can run on it.


    ¡°You go ahead,¡± I tell Edward, hobbling downstairs as quickly as I can. ¡°Tell Mary I¡¯ll be a couple of minutes late ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to leave you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°How much trouble am I going to get into just walking through the Academy?¡±


    Edward smiles wryly. I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯s mentally listing the many forms of unlikely trouble I could encounter and barely refraining from doing so out loud. ¡°You¡¯ll be faster if you lean on me instead of the crutch,¡± he says.


    I try it; it¡¯s awkward for a few seconds, but he¡¯s right. ¡°Not fast enough to be on time.¡±


    ¡°Fast enough to only be two minutes late. And Mary isn¡¯t that strict about it, unlike certain other teachers I could mention.¡±


    He means Electra. She gave Elsie detention for being one minute late to our last Countering Magical Effects lesson. Elsie is still traumatised, and it made me wonder why I ever decided that she might not be quite as bad as she seems.


    Though considering how bad she seems, that isn¡¯t as strong a statement as it should be.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter, and shut up to focus on hobbling faster.


    Edward¡¯s prediction is unsurprisingly accurate: we¡¯re two minutes late, and Mary is completely fine with it. We¡¯re not even the last there; Hannah is nowhere to be seen as I ease myself into my usual seat. She runs in as Mary is explaining what we¡¯ll be working on today, out of breath and dishevelled. Mary is fine with that, as well.


    I struggle to focus. I nearly cause a small explosion before Edward stops me from adding twice the amount of greenroot powder I should. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking ¨C I shouldn¡¯t be mixing reactive substances when I¡¯m barely functioning ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Edward says. ¡°You¡¯re not a proper alchemist until you¡¯ve acquired burn injuries from your mistakes.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I am very much not a proper alchemist.¡±


    I gasp theatrically. ¡°Edward Blackthorn, not an expert in an area of magic? Stars, what has happened to the world?¡±


    He laughs. ¡°Alchemy doesn¡¯t count as magic. Anyway, the amount of time you need to spend learning alchemy before you can do anything useful with it isn¡¯t worthwhile when you can just hire someone else to brew for you.¡±


    ¡°That does rather assume that you have the sort of money that lets you hire a professional alchemist.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Well. I do.¡±


    One day I¡¯ll make him understand that not having enough money is actually a concern for a lot of people.


    ¡°Can you focus on the task, please?¡± Mary says. I nearly jump; I did not hear her come up behind us. ¡°You don¡¯t want to let that mixture congeal.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C ¡° I stammer, ¡°I ¨C it¡¯s my fault. I nearly added too much greenroot powder.¡±


    Edward says nothing, but grabs a slitted spoon and begins rhythmically stirring our half-formed concoction.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay, Tallulah. I know you can¡¯t be at your best right now, with everything else you¡¯re dealing with.¡±


    She¡¯s trying to be sympathetic and helpful, but it doesn¡¯t work. I don¡¯t want her sympathy.


    That sets the theme for the day: I struggle to pay attention to lessons. Every few minutes one of the less pleasant letters I was sent flashes through my mind, disrupting my focus and unsettling me. I find myself wishing I had a selective memory so I could choose to forget all those things.


    And when it¡¯s not that it¡¯s a vague ill-defined dread: is it of my mother¡¯s response to my letter, or just Edward¡¯s paranoia finally getting to me? I don¡¯t even know.


    I¡¯ve never really had problems focusing before, and I don¡¯t like it. I keep expecting to be called on to answer a question I haven¡¯t even heard at any second. Thankfully we don¡¯t have Spells or Countering Magical Effects today, and Felicity and Electra are the only two teachers likely to pick on me in that way. And it¡¯s the weekend tomorrow.


    I¡¯m not behind on homework. I¡¯ll be able to rest.


    I hope I will, anyway; any time I¡¯ve thought that recently, the next disaster has been waiting just around the corner. Is it better that I¡¯m half-expecting another disaster now, or worse because I have to deal with the anticipation? Stars. Why can¡¯t I just have a normal life ¨C


    Because I chose this. Because I chose to be friends with Edward Blackthorn, knowing the consequences. It is worth it.


    I don¡¯t know if I can make it through the next disaster.


    But the next disaster doesn¡¯t come that day. I sleep in the following morning ¨C that is, I wake at seven but allow myself to doze for a couple of hours before dragging myself out of bed. I make it to the bathroom without my crutches. It feels good to be able to walk mostly-normally again; you don¡¯t appreciate things like that until you¡¯ve lost them.


    I carry the crutches down to breakfast ¨C I don¡¯t want to find myself needing them again and realise they¡¯re several flights of stairs away.


    Edward is sitting at our usual table, paging through a thick tome of some sort; he¡¯s clearly long finished eating and has been waiting for me.


    This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I treat myself to a proper cooked breakfast, since for once I¡¯m getting breakfast late enough that it''s ready. It has been far too long since I had bacon.


    ¡°What are you reading?¡± I ask Edward, setting down my tray opposite him.


    He tilts the book to show me the cover: A Study in Twelve Examples of the Elementary Theory of Magical Security. I guess that is something he needs to know. ¡°Sleep well?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, sitting down.


    ¡°And no crutches!¡±


    I grin. ¡°No crutches.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking about this afternoon,¡± Edward says. ¡°I think it should be safe for you to come with me ¨C I remembered I have an old sample of my mother¡¯s handwriting, and it matches up precisely with that letter ¨C not that that¡¯s perfect proof, of course ¨C and in the worst-case scenario the fact they won¡¯t be expecting two of us means we have a better chance of being able to summon help.¡±


    I nod, not wanting to try and speak around a mouthful of delicious bacon.


    ¡°But¡­ I can¡¯t guarantee your safety if you come with me. I suppose, though, if we¡¯re going to be partners, I can hardly forbid you from taking a risk I¡¯m willing to take myself. You know the situation ¨C do you want to come?¡±


    It¡¯s not a trap. I told him that myself. But when he¡¯s asking me directly like that, having laid out exactly what could go wrong, it seems different. It¡¯s not a trap, and he doesn¡¯t want to go alone.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°I want to come.¡±


    Edward smiles. ¡°Meet at one-and-thirty by the main gate?¡±


    That¡¯s slightly redundant in the end, considering we spend the rest of the morning together, reading in comfortable silence. Edward has his examples of magical security and I have a collection of essays on justice throughout the centuries. It¡¯s surprising how ancient and obscure many of the country¡¯s laws are, and how many lingering remnants of Temple influence can be found in the current justice system.


    It''s a good morning. I wish more mornings could be like this.


    Afternoon inevitably comes, though, and too soon it¡¯s one-and-thirty. We sign out and set off. It¡¯s colder than it has been outside: we¡¯ve had an unseasonably warm few months, but now the autumn chills are starting to set in. I wish we¡¯d learnt warming-spells in class by now.


    Edward, being himself, casts one for me and resolves to teach me at the earliest opportunity. There are advantages to having a magical prodigy for a best friend.


    ¡°It¡¯s busy,¡± he says as we reach the entrance to the park. ¡°Good. More witnesses.¡±


    I give him a death stare.


    The bench where Edward and his mother arranged to meet is in the centre of the park, beside the main path. It¡¯s visible from about ten metres away. A blonde woman in a thick fur coat sits alone on it; no-one else appears to be lurking nearby.


    ¡°See?¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    ¡°The best way to ambush someone is to be somewhere else altogether and then teleport in when you¡¯re given a signal.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not too late to just go back,¡± I offer half-jokingly.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going back.¡± He takes a tentative step forward.


    The woman sees us approach and lifts a hand in greeting. Edward waves back. None of us speak until we¡¯re within a couple of metres of each other.


    ¡°Edward?¡± she says, her Sirgalese accent obvious.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replies, voice tense. ¡°And you¡¯re¡­ Mother?¡±


    And suddenly she¡¯s standing and he¡¯s crossed the last two metres and they¡¯re hugging. Edward looks so young and vulnerable wrapped in her arms. I almost regret coming; this feels too intimate a moment for me to witness.


    I hesitate, lingering awkwardly, feigning interest in the leaves of the nearest tree.


    ¡°And you must be ¨C ¡° Edward¡¯s mother releases him, glances at me, and freezes for a second. ¡°You must be the famous Tallulah, then,¡± she continues smoothly. I almost think I imagined it, but no: of course she¡¯d be surprised by her son¡¯s choice of friend.


    I laugh awkwardly. ¡°Yes. Yes, I¡¯m Tallulah. It¡¯s very nice to meet you.¡± Edward¡¯s told me a lot about you, is the natural continuation of those empty pleasantries, but it¡¯s also very much not true. All I know about her is that she¡¯s Sirgalese, she cheated on Lord Blackthorn with his butler and got caught, and that she¡¯s ¨C


    Oh. She¡¯s a sensitive. Maybe that was what surprised her: she looked at me and saw my magic, saw whatever¡¯s strange or wrong about it. Is there a way to ask her about it without ruining her reunion with Edward?


    ¡°Likewise, I¡¯m sure.¡± She holds out a hand; I shake it. ¡°I owe you a great debt.¡±


    I stare at her blankly for a second.


    ¡°I must thank you for delivering my letter. Without that I might never have had this opportunity.¡±


    Oh. That. I guess it is pretty important to her. ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I say, and then find the mask of courtesy again: ¡°It was the least I can do. Edward has been such a good friend to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d expect nothing less of my son,¡± she replies.


    Edward doesn¡¯t look particularly proud to hear that; despite the hug he¡¯s still tense, awkward.


    ¡°Tell me, then,¡± his mother says. ¡°How have you spent the years since I last saw you?¡±


    That does nothing to ease the tension.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been learning,¡± Edward says. ¡°Growing up, I suppose.¡±


    ¡°Without me. I¡¯m sorry. I should have been there.¡±


    I pray Edward has the self-restraint to not voice his agreement with that sentiment. He thankfully keeps his silence.


    ¡°I missed you. I love you.¡±


    ¡°I missed you too,¡± Edward admits. ¡°But ¨C ¡°


    I can¡¯t work out whether what he¡¯s about to say is something that needs saying or something that could ruin everything.


    His mother doesn¡¯t say anything, just watches him in silence.


    ¡°But it¡¯s been ten years. I¡¯ve grown and changed so much. We can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I know. I¡¯m not foolish enough to think I can just walk back in as if I¡¯ve never been gone. But¡­ I¡¯d like to be part of your life still. If you¡¯ll have me.¡±


    Why am I here? This isn¡¯t a conversation I have any right to be part of.


    ¡°I¡¯d like that too,¡± says Edward.


    I can¡¯t quite read the expressions that flash across his mother¡¯s face as she hears that. Relief? Happiness? Triumph, even? ¡°Where do we start?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Where have you been?¡± Edward asks. ¡°You know more or less what I¡¯ve done, but I know nothing about what you¡¯ve done.¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°There isn¡¯t really much to tell. I went back to Sirgal after the divorce. Stayed with my parents for a few years, until the talk of how I really ought to be doing something more with my life got too much to bear. Worked a few odd jobs here and there. Came back to Rasin two or three years ago, after the Sirgalese government got, how shall I say¡­ a little too insistent that I put my talents to use in their service.¡±


    It takes me a little while to parse that: she must be referring to her abilities as a sensitive, and how useful they could be for the classification of artefacts and enchantments, for ward-breaking, for magical research.


    ¡°I¡¯m working for the Port Authority in Ridgeton now. I managed to get a couple of weeks¡¯ leave to come to Ryk, though, to find you.¡±


    It¡¯s a thin sketch of a story, and it doesn¡¯t take too much effort to read between the lines and see that Sylvia Froment¡¯s life has been lacking purpose and direction for the last decade. I feel an unexpected pang of sympathy for her.


    ¡°What about Carter?¡± Edward asks suddenly. ¡°Did you and he¡­¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Whatever we had, it wasn¡¯t enough to make it through the divorce and the scandal. We quarrelled over who was to blame, what we should do next, everything, and when I left for Sirgal I never spoke to him again.¡±


    Carter, I gather, must be the butler she had an affair with.


    ¡°Did you love him?¡±


    Sylvia hesitates. ¡°In a way. I¡¯d describe it more now as desire. Attraction. Have you ¨C I¡¯m sorry, I know this is an awful question for a mother to ask her son, but have you ever been in love?¡±


    Edward shakes his head.


    ¡°But I thought ¨C you and Tallulah ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± we say at the same time. I can¡¯t help laughing.


    ¡°We¡¯re friends,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s not like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± she says. ¡°If you want to keep it a secret ¨C if you don¡¯t want the world knowing ¨C I won¡¯t tell anyone. I¡¯m your mother. You can trust me.¡±


    I don¡¯t think Edward does trust her; I know by now how hard it is to earn his trust. But it doesn¡¯t matter in this case: ¡°No. Really. We¡¯re friends,¡± he insists.


    I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s going to convince anyone. It¡¯s surprisingly hard to deny you¡¯re in a relationship if people are already convinced you are.


    Sylvia shrugs. ¡°I was going to say. If you have been in love, if you¡¯ve felt that way about someone, then you¡¯ll understand.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t think I do,¡± Edward says slowly. ¡°What about my father? Did you love him?¡±


    ¡°I did, once. At least I loved the idea of him.¡±


    ¡°And the reality?¡± I ask, not sure that either of us want to hear the answer.


    ¡°It is very difficult to love your husband when he barely seems to know you exist.¡±


    There¡¯s bitterness there, definitely: the decade-old wounds have not fully healed. And I can¡¯t blame her one bit. It would be just like him to never acknowledge his wife, and it must have been awful for her to live with him, longing for him to notice her.


    But while I¡¯m removed enough from this old drama that I can sympathise with Edward¡¯s mother and add another black mark to my mental tally for his father, Edward has no such advantage.


    ¡°He has his duty,¡± he says tentatively. ¡°To his king and country. Without his work ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Please, do not excuse that man to me.¡± Her words are relatively mild, but I can sense a decade of anger stored behind them. ¡°I didn¡¯t come here to rehash ancient history. I came to build something new with my son.¡±


    Edward nods once. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I just want to understand.¡±


    ¡°Some day, you will. For now, tell me: how are you finding your lessons?¡±

 59. Further Lessons in Advanced Enchantments

    They talk for an hour more, occasionally making an effort to include me in their conversation. I don¡¯t mind listening, though, while I try to find a way to raise the topic of my magic without sounding rude or interfering with their attempts to get to know each other. No easy opportunity presents itself, so I decide I can wait. Perhaps I¡¯ll get Edward to ask on my behalf when he next sees her.


    Whatever it is, it can¡¯t be anything dangerous. She would have said something if it was.


    Eventually we make our excuses. Edward and I have some ill-defined schoolwork we should be doing; Sylvia needs to go shopping if she wants to eat properly while she¡¯s here. We arrange to meet again next weekend, same time and place. I¡¯m invited, but I don¡¯t know if I¡¯ll come.


    Edward and I don¡¯t talk on the way back to the Academy, both lost in our separate worlds.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I finally ask once we¡¯ve signed back in and are standing at the foot of the staircase, not sure where to go next.


    He shrugs. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m listening,¡± I say. ¡°If you want to talk to me.¡±


    He hesitates. ¡°Not here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hardly a state secret ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s a secret from my dad. And I know for a fact he¡¯s spying on me.¡±


    That, I have to admit, is a valid point. Not for the first time, it strikes me that Lord Blackthorn really shouldn¡¯t be using the kingdom¡¯s spy network to keep tabs on his son. ¡°So, meeting room?¡±


    Edward uses a different room to normal, and casts privacy wards before speaking. ¡°If my dad really wants to know what I¡¯m up to, I can¡¯t stop him. But I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve given him cause for suspicion. Well, other than the part where I nearly got myself killed saving you, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry if ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    Apologising has become an instinctive reaction; even with Edward telling me off for it I struggle to not apologise for everything that is in the slightest way my fault. I bite my lip to avoid apologising for apologising, and let the silence linger until he¡¯s ready to talk.


    ¡°I know who and what he is,¡± Edward says. ¡°I know his work has to come first. Before everything else. Before his family. So why does it still hurt so much?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s not right ¨C ¡°


    Edward flinches; I¡¯ve said the wrong thing. Maybe he isn¡¯t ready for harsh truths yet.


    I wasn¡¯t ready when he told me harsh truths, says a traitorous little voice in the back of my mind. But no; I can¡¯t do that to Edward. Instead I pause, choosing my words carefully. ¡°His work is important ¨C of course it is ¨C but ¨C would the country really fall apart if he took more time off to be with his family?¡±


    ¡°If you asked him that, he¡¯d say yes.¡±


    I¡¯m pretty sure he¡¯d say something more along the lines of I don¡¯t see why I should justify my life choices to you, but I don¡¯t think pointing that out is a good idea. ¡°And would he be right?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like, having that much power and responsibility. Neither of us do.¡±


    It¡¯s what he doesn¡¯t say that¡¯s most important, and we both know it: yes, he would.


    Because I¡¯m confident that he would be wrong.


    Edward sighs. ¡°There¡¯s too many things I don¡¯t know,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s the problem. I can¡¯t work out what I feel without knowing the full facts of what happened between them. And I can¡¯t ask my mother any more than I have because she doesn¡¯t want to talk about it. And I can¡¯t ask my father for obvious reasons.¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s say, hypothetically, that these reasons are less obvious to me than to you.¡± I could make a few guesses, but I don¡¯t want to work on shaky assumptions for a conversation like this.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never asked him about my mother before. We don¡¯t have those sorts of conversations. If I suddenly start trying to interrogate him about it, he¡¯ll know something suspicious is happening.¡±


    And then he¡¯ll forbid Edward and his mother from seeing each other. That on its own should be enough to establish that Lord Blackthorn is in the wrong here. If that was going to convince Edward, though, it would have already.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t there someone else you could ask?¡± I try instead. ¡°Someone who was there at the time, who knew them both?¡±


    He shakes his head slowly. ¡°It would have to be someone I can trust. Not just to not try and turn me against my father for their own agenda, but to not tell my father.¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s no-one?¡± I feel a sudden surge of pity for Edward, which I hide as best as I can: I know he hates to be pitied. But not having any adult he can turn to for help and advice, not having anyone he can truly rely on¡­ I know exactly how that feels.


    ¡°There¡¯s Elspeth, but she wasn¡¯t hired until shortly after the divorce. Or Rosie, but she was only twelve or thirteen at the time. Or¡­¡±


    He trails off, staring into the distance in a way that makes it clear I¡¯ve given him an idea.


    ¡°Or who?¡±


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°My grandmother. The Dowager Lady Annabelle Blackthorn. She and my father don¡¯t get on, but she¡¯s fiercely loyal to the family name. I don¡¯t know how reliable her testimony would be, and she¡¯d definitely try and influence me to be the sort of Blackthorn my grandfather would have wanted, but¡­ she wouldn¡¯t betray me. And she and my mother were close once; she¡¯ll know at least one side of the story.¡±


    ¡°You should talk to her,¡± I say.


    But he doesn¡¯t look happy about the idea. ¡°Maybe I should,¡± he says noncommittally.


    I decide not to ask him what he doesn¡¯t like about the idea. If he wanted me to know, he would have told me. Maybe it¡¯s just that he knows what she tells him won¡¯t be complimentary to his father, and he doesn¡¯t want to hear it.


    He really is a hypocrite, that uncharitable little voice remarks. Insisting that I face what he sees as the truth about my mother and then hiding from the obvious facts about his father.


    ¡°Just tell me one thing, please,¡± he says. ¡°My mother cheated on my father. Knowing the consequences if she got caught. Knowing that she probably would get caught, because it is extremely difficult to hide things from my father.¡±


    I say nothing, waiting for him to ask his question.


    ¡°Knowing,¡± he continues, ¡°what it would do to me. Does it make me a bad person, if I wonder if that means she didn¡¯t love me enough?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say immediately. It¡¯s a dark thought to have, but I know that sort of darkness. It lurks inside everyone, especially people like Edward ¨C and, much, though I hate to admit it, like me. ¡°It makes you human.¡±


    We don¡¯t have any schoolwork to finish, despite what Edward told his mother. Both of us are up to date on everything. So Edward decides it¡¯s time for another lesson in advanced enchantments. I¡¯d rather rest, but I know he enjoys teaching me; after that meeting, he needs the enjoyment more than I need rest.


    The next lesson is in beginning to develop different kinds of triggers for enchantments. There are dozens of different approaches, most of which are beyond my current abilities and some of which are beyond Edward¡¯s (¡°yes, I did just admit I can¡¯t do something magical. I¡¯m hardly at the level of original enchantment research just yet, Tallulah, and you know that.¡±)


    One that¡¯s not too complicated, though, is an enchantment that will only be triggered if a small amount of magic is channelled into it; larger amounts will be dissipated into the ambience.


    ¡°It¡¯s quite useful for Malaina to have a device like that,¡± Edward says. ¡°If you get the thresholds right, it can really help you practice precise control. And I thought you¡¯d like to have something you made for yourself, rather than something I made for you.¡±


    He¡¯s right. Much though I appreciate everything Edward does for me, I do also need independence from Blackthorns.


    That does rely on me being capable of making this device, though. Edward agrees to let me practice on a few things before choosing the object I want to keep ¨C it¡¯s not good to keep purging the same object of enchantments. Purging-spells aren¡¯t perfect: a little magic is left behind each time, and over many failed attempts that could build up into something that destabilises the object.


    He gives me a few of his collection of marbles to practice with, and I set about enchanting them to fly upwards when a little magic is channelled into them. But this is much harder than anything I¡¯ve tried before: I need an enchantment that will do two different things depending on how much magic is channelled into it, one of which I¡¯ve never done before.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even sure I know how to dissipate magic into the ambience,¡± I say. ¡°Can¡¯t we practice that first?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just the inverse of an enchantment that absorbs ambient magic.¡±


    I give him a stare that he should be able to read by now and wait for him to work it out.


    ¡°¡­oh, right, you haven¡¯t actually learnt enchantments that absorb ambient magic, have you? And for that matter, have you covered inverse enchantments in Magical Theory?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°but it¡¯s called Magical Theory for a reason. I don¡¯t have the faintest idea how you¡¯d actually go about inverting an enchantment in practice.¡±


    I can almost see him re-evaluating his lesson plan based on the reminder that, unlike him, I am very much not a magical prodigy. ¡°It would probably help, then. It¡¯s not strictly necessary to know all the components of a spell or enchantment to cast it, but¡­ you¡¯re not the type to take things on faith, are you?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I guess not. Why does it¡­ oh.¡± Because that¡¯s effectively what I¡¯m doing, trying to cast this enchantment I don¡¯t understand. It works because Edward says it works, that¡¯s all. And while he¡¯s probably right about these things, I don¡¯t think that¡¯s quite enough for the complete confidence required to make magic work.


    ¡°I should have thought about that, then. Sorry. It¡¯s a good thing, though ¨C might not feel like it now, or if you get bad teachers who expect you to cast on faith, but you¡¯ll have a much better understanding of why things work than you would otherwise, and that¡¯ll serve you well later.¡±


    Later. He says that as if I¡¯m going to be a proper magician some day, as if grappling with enchantments far more complex than this will be part of my everyday life. I very much doubt that will be the case. Why does he think ¨C


    I suppose because for him, it will be. Because he¡¯s forgotten somehow that despite everything that connects us, Edward and I are very different people with very different futures ahead of us.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± says Edward. ¡°I¡¯ll give you a lesson in the theory of enchantments that dissipate magic into the ambience ¨C not the logical way to do it, but that¡¯s my own fault for trying to teach you this one first ¨C but practice will be a little harder.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s hard to check if it¡¯s working?¡± I guess.


    He nods. ¡°The expected result is for nothing mundanely observable to happen when you channel magic into it, which is also what will happen if the enchantment doesn¡¯t work ¨C unless you channel enough that it could start having destructive effects, which I don¡¯t recommend.¡±


    I don¡¯t particularly want to have to explain to anyone that I didn¡¯t destroy the marble because I was in a Malaina episode, I destroyed it because I was testing an enchantment. He has a point. ¡°So how do we test it, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to source a basic enchantment-detection kit. My dad can get hold of one ¨C he¡¯ll be happy to, for educational purposes.¡±


    ¡°Or we could ask your mum,¡± I point out. As a sensitive, Sylvia would be able to immediately see how much magic the marble stored after I channelled some into it and thus whether the enchantment worked.


    He shakes his head sharply. ¡°You remember what she said about the Sirgalese government?¡±


    I¡¯m confused for a second, but it fits into place: they wanted to make use of her talents as a sensitive. ¡°You think¡­ she¡¯ll think you¡¯re using her? Just because of something small like this?¡±


    ¡°Obviously we¡¯re not,¡± Edward says. ¡°But if you¡¯ve been scared of people trying to use you your entire life¡­ I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if she thought that way, if we asked. Better not to.¡±


    I wonder how he can be so sensitive in some ways and yet so utterly blind in others.


    That also makes me realise that it¡¯ll be awkward to ask her about my signature, for the same reason. And then that I was caught up enough in helping Edward sort through his tangled feelings about his parents that I didn¡¯t tell him about that.


    ¡°My signature,¡± I say. ¡°She noticed.¡±


    ¡°What do you ¨C oh! When she first saw you ¨C when she hesitated like that ¨C ¡°


    I nod.


    ¡°Of course. I should have made that connection myself.¡±


    ¡°It does fit, then? It¡¯s not just that Doctor Wandsworth¡¯s device malfunctioned, and we¡¯ve been reading too much into it?¡±


    ¡°Probably not, but we can¡¯t be certain. You want to ask her, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I nod. ¡°I know it might make things awkward for you, but ¨C if there¡¯s something wrong with me, I want to know what it is.¡±


    ¡°There is nothing wrong with you,¡± Edward says, and the intensity appears in his voice so suddenly that I jump and wonder if his father had appeared without us noticing. ¡°Maybe there¡¯s something unusual about your magic, maybe there isn¡¯t, but you are not wrong, or broken, or a failure.¡±


    Stars help me, I think I believe him.

 60. Robin

    I at least manage to understand the theory Edward is explaining (more or less, as long as no-one asks me too many questions about it), and the rest has to wait until Edward¡¯s enchantment-detecting kit is delivered.


    It takes me rather too long to think to ask whether we can¡¯t just measure my signature with that, but apparently not: reliably reading anything more than a magician¡¯s School from their signature is extremely hard and the devices that can do that are not considered basic.


    So I¡¯m free to rest, which means returning to my essays on the justice system. Edward disappears to work on some of his own extra-curricular magic projects (I don¡¯t ask for details, being fairly sure I won¡¯t understand them) leaving me alone.


    I¡¯m not disappointed, though; the essays are more than interesting enough to be good company. The one on the role of the King is probably my favourite; it argues that we shouldn¡¯t allow one person to have such great power, that it could have devastating consequences for justice in the Kingdom.


    Three hundred years ago, its author writes, the mere act of penning such words would have been sufficient to have me executed for treason. Much has changed since then; much more must change before we can have true justice.


    It paints a compelling picture of just how much damage a king could cause to their kingdom and its judicial system if they wanted to. I¡¯m almost persuaded, but¡­ call me childish, sentimental, but I can¡¯t help thinking of a thousand years of history. Of the list of kings that I¡¯ve memorised, that I use to comfort me.


    And the thought of no new names being added to that list is a tragic one.


    I read for the rest of the afternoon before going to find dinner. Edward isn¡¯t in the dining hall, but Elsie and Robin are. They wave to me as I approach, and I wave back, finding myself involuntarily smiling.


    I¡¯m happy, I realise suddenly. I have friends, I have time to read, new things to learn. A place where I belong.


    When did that happen?


    The three of us talk about inconsequential things ¨C when asked how my day has been, I have to admit I¡¯ve spent most of it alone with Edward and suffer a fair bit of teasing about my non-existent relationship with him. I don¡¯t mind it much, though; there are far worse ways I could be talked about.


    They persuade me to come with them to the temple service that evening; I haven¡¯t been as often as I should, life keeps getting in the way. But I¡¯m feeling less ill-disposed towards the stars than normal today, so I accept the invitation.


    As it turns out, that¡¯s a mistake: we encounter Mildred walking a few steps ahead of us on the way there. My heart skips a beat. My newfound happiness is not strong enough to survive this.


    ¡°Can we slow down?¡± I ask, but it¡¯s too late: she looks behind and sees us.


    She looks just the same as ever: perfectly calm and composed, pretty as a picture. ¡°Elsie!¡± she says. ¡°Tallulah! Robin! It¡¯s been far too long since I saw you!¡±


    She¡¯s not quite the same, though. Subtle things: the tension in her hands, the lack of warmth in her eyes as she smiles. It¡¯s as if she was made of glass, and her father¡¯s death shattered her. Now she¡¯s begun to piece herself back together, but she¡¯s still fragile and sharp-edged.


    We¡¯re not much better ourselves: all three of us freeze as she addresses us. But of course, I¡¯m not the only one with reason to be awkward around her: Elsie was her friend until she ¡°betrayed¡± her by being prepared to testify in my defence at the hearing, and Robin apparently hates her to the extent that the two of them couldn¡¯t be in the same class.


    ¡°Mildred,¡± I say, recovering first. ¡°It has been a while.¡±


    The last time I saw her, she was sitting on the platform on Traitor¡¯s Hill, trying not to break down in front of the crowd, just before the riot began.


    ¡°I suppose you three are all going to the service, then? I am. We should walk down together.¡±


    No. I don¡¯t want that. But I can¡¯t bring myself to say that to her. I could make an excuse, say I want to put a coat on (I probably should have put a coat on; the weather is turning colder as winter approaches, and there¡¯s a chill in the air) or go to the bathroom. But then I¡¯d be abandoning Elsie and Robin, and I¡¯m not going to do that.


    I pray for a second that one of them will have the courage, or ruthlessness, to explain that we really don¡¯t want to spend a second longer than we have to in her company. But neither of them do. In Elsie¡¯s case it¡¯s not a surprise; I don¡¯t know that she¡¯s even entirely convinced that Mildred locked me in the library that day, and she feels awful about how everything happened.


    I don¡¯t know the history between Mildred and Robin, though. I could probably just ask Robin; we¡¯re close enough by now that she might be willing to tell me. But whatever it is, she¡¯s not prepared to tell Mildred we don¡¯t want her here.


    Which means we¡¯re stuck with her, doesn¡¯t it?


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want,¡± I say, trying to hide my reluctance; if we must do this, I¡¯m not going to be the one to begin hostilities.


    ¡°It is,¡± she replies, smiling coldly. ¡°Shall we go?¡±


    The walk is horrifically awkward. Not because Mildred isn¡¯t speaking to us or will only answer in curt monosyllables; in fact, she makes every appearance of being delighted to catch up with old friends again. Only the blank look in her eyes gives away that she¡¯s anything but.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    It scares me a little, how good she is at this game she¡¯s playing with us. I can¡¯t help wondering if she was doing the same thing back when I was sort-of-friends with her. If she ever even liked me.


    I¡¯m beginning to understand Edward better. If he assumes that most people he encounters are like Mildred, it¡¯s no wonder he acts the way he does.


    Mildred, though, I don¡¯t understand at all. Even before seeing her today, there was always a contradiction in my mind between the girl I found sobbing in the bathroom and the girl who was prepared to have me locked away in an asylum if that was the price of saving her father and the friendly, outgoing girl who first introduced herself to me.


    And I don¡¯t know what she wants. She can¡¯t be enjoying giving us the latest Parliamentary gossip any more than I¡¯m enjoying hearing it from her. So why is she doing that instead of avoiding us or opening hostilities?


    Revenge, I think. She must hate Lord Blackthorn with a passion after he betrayed her ¨C even though she was trying to blackmail him, betrayal is the only word for his response ¨C and she must know that the way to really hurt him is to hurt Edward ¨C and, by extension, me.


    So is this the first step in an elaborate plot against us? Or is this just Edward¡¯s paranoia finally getting to me?


    Stars, I don¡¯t know.


    But we reach the temple without mention of her father, the Blackthorns or anything else of that nature, and then I¡¯m saved by the requirement of silence throughout the service.


    It¡¯s led by Sister Emily, our Astronomy teacher, once more. She preaches on forgiveness and second chances. I wonder if Mildred knew that was the topic of the service. I wonder if that¡¯s what she wants: to be forgiven for what she did to me. To be friends again.


    I don¡¯t think I can forgive her, though. Even if I understand her motivations¡­ I just can¡¯t trust someone who did what she did, who¡¯s willing to see me as a game piece to be sacrificed rather than a person. If that goes against my religious duty, then so be it.


    Mildred stays behind after the service to pray in private. Elsie, Robin and I make our escape.


    ¡°Are you okay, Tallulah?¡± Elsie asks once we¡¯re a safe distance away.


    ¡°I ¨C yes. Yes. I¡¯m not going to have an episode because she reminds me of, well, everything that happened between us.¡±


    Maybe a few weeks ago, right after the end of my isolation, I would have. But I¡¯ve survived a lot since then, and the guilt of failing to persuade Lord Blackthorn to spare Mildred¡¯s father no longer hurts so much. Perhaps I¡¯ve changed since then.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask. ¡°You were her friend before I came along ¨C ¡°


    Elsie shakes her head sharply. ¡°You didn¡¯t ruin my friendship with Mildred. She did. You¡¯ve been a better friend than she ever was.¡±


    I have to blink a few times, shake my head. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯ve been a particularly good friend to Elsie ¨C I¡¯ve been too caught up in my own problems. Maybe it says more about Mildred than about me.


    ¡°And you, Robin?¡± I ask to change the subject. ¡°I know you and Mildred ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do you?¡± she replies, raising her eyebrows.


    ¡°Well,¡± I amend hastily, ¡°Edward told me ¨C ¡° Also a mistake, I realise too late.


    Her expression clouds at once. ¡°I can cope with it,¡± she says. ¡°Why not ask Edward for all the details, since he¡¯s already told you so much?¡±


    I flinch. ¡°Robin, that¡¯s not what I meant. I don¡¯t know anything more than ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Know about what?¡± Elsie interjects.


    Robin throws up her hands in frustration. ¡°Oh, forget it.¡±


    Okay. Maybe Robin and I aren¡¯t close enough for her to share her history with Mildred, especially since I¡¯ve somehow mis-stepped by mentioning Edward told me about it. Was he involved somehow? She hasn¡¯t exactly been subtle about her crush on him, and back when we first met there was talk of marriage between Edward and Mildred. Did they see each other as rivals for his affections? Was Mildred as ruthless in that as in her treatment of me?


    We return to the Academy in awkward silence, but Robin and I are dorm-mates; we can¡¯t escape from each other that easily. Elsie leaves us to our tense walk back to the dormitory together with a cheery wave. At least she isn¡¯t too affected by whatever I¡¯ve done wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± says Robin suddenly as we climb the last flight of stairs. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have snapped at you. None of this is your fault. It¡¯s just¡­¡± She sighs.


    ¡°This is about Edward, isn¡¯t it?¡± I guess. ¡°Him and Mildred. Him and you.¡± And the piece falls into place, and it¡¯s obvious: ¡°¡­him and me.¡±


    She grimaces. ¡°I haven¡¯t been as subtle as I wanted to be, have I? I joke about it, let people tease me, but¡­ I love him. I¡¯ll spare you the details, but Mildred¡­ well, you know what she¡¯s like. Let¡¯s just say she pushed me too far, and I said and did things I regret and that have caused me problems.¡±


    I can understand that only too well. I nod.


    ¡°And then you¡­ well. Just when I thought that there was a chance he might notice me, along comes this¡­ stranger. Nobody. I don¡¯t mean to be rude ¨C you see that, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I do, in a way, but it still stings a little. I say nothing.


    ¡°And somehow ¨C I don¡¯t know what you did, but he¡¯s devoted to you. I wanted to hate you. You don¡¯t know how many awful things I¡¯ve called you in my mind.¡±


    I should be angry at what she¡¯s saying. I should be angry that she hated me for something I haven¡¯t even done. But something in the way she speaks in the past tense about it¡­ something has changed.


    ¡°I think it was seeing the newspaper headlines about you that changed my mind,¡± she says. ¡°No-one deserves to have things like that written about them. And that morning¡­ when you broke down reading them, and he comforted you.¡±


    The morning when they revealed how I Fell. The morning when he didn¡¯t abandon me, when I¡¯d always thought he would. ¡°You were watching?¡± I shouldn¡¯t be surprised; we were in public, I was sobbing, of course people were watching me. It still feels a little uncomfortable, though.


    She nods. ¡°Sorry. But I realised then, I think. He¡¯s good for you. You¡¯re good for him. The two of you fit together. So¡­ what can I do against that?¡±


    She doesn¡¯t know, I realise. She still thinks we¡¯re lovers, despite all the times I¡¯ve denied it. I open my mouth to do it again ¨C and shut it again.


    If I tell her we¡¯re just friends, and she believes me, I¡¯m giving her false hope. Setting her up for another heartbreak in a few months¡¯ time, if she gets the courage to confess her feelings to Edward and he has to reject her.


    And I can¡¯t tell her the truth, because that¡¯s not my secret to share. I couldn¡¯t do that to Edward. I could ask him for permission ¨C but even if he agrees, that doesn¡¯t let me tell her here and now.


    Which only leaves me with one option. ¡°I never meant to ¨C to steal him from you. Or from Mildred, or from anyone. It just¡­ happened.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± she says. ¡°You¡¯re not like Mildred. You don¡¯t have a malicious bone in your body. That¡¯s what makes it so hard to hate you. Why I¡¯ve given up trying.¡±


    We¡¯ve reached the dormitory by this point. I don¡¯t know if anyone else is in there, but this isn¡¯t a conversation I want to have in front of the others, especially now that I¡¯m sort-of-lying about being in a relationship with Edward.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re happy together,¡± Robin says. ¡°And that I can be friends with you ¨C with both of you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. And then, sticking to things I can be truthful about, ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned you and I are already friends. I¡¯m just¡­ glad you told me this. Glad it¡¯s out in the open now.¡±


    ¡°So am I,¡± she says.


    But I¡¯m still lying to her.

 61. Tests

    I don¡¯t tell Edward all the details of my conversation with Robin when I see him at breakfast the next morning. Just that she¡¯s convinced we¡¯re dating, and I don¡¯t want to convince her otherwise without telling her the truth.


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s not something that can be used against you. Is it?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Not seriously.¡±


    Plenty of historical figures have taken lovers of the same gender. It¡¯s no more scandalous than the more usual sort of secret romance. While Edward Blackthorn being inclined that way would certainly be a source of gossip, it¡¯s not something he could be blackmailed with.


    ¡°Then¡­¡± I say, curious.


    ¡°Sometimes you just don¡¯t want people to know things,¡± he says. ¡°Even if there isn¡¯t a rational reason. I suppose I¡¯ve hidden it long enough it¡¯s become a habit. There¡¯s marriage prospects to think about, too. Someone in my position isn¡¯t going to marry for love anyway, but women would probably be more inclined towards a political marriage if they didn¡¯t know I¡¯m never going to feel that way about them.¡±


    I hate how pragmatic he sounds about it. How perfectly acceptable it all seems to him that he has to deny part of himself and shut it away. But what else can he do? Taking emotion out of the picture, looking at life in the cold political way that Blackthorns do, he¡¯s right.


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have to think that way,¡± I say.


    ¡°I do have to.¡±


    ¡°Sorry if this is a personal question,¡± I begin tentatively, ¡°but¡­¡±


    ¡°I think we¡¯ve passed the point of having to worry about that.¡±


    ¡°Have you ever¡­¡± I ask. He knows what I¡¯m trying to say.


    ¡°I told my mother, didn¡¯t I? No.¡±


    ¡°Would you?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s something you can know until it happens. Have you ever¡­¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I went to an all-girls¡¯ school. Up until the last couple of months I barely saw any boys my age. I would, if I found the right person.¡±


    Edward narrows his eyes. ¡°Oh. That may be a problem.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Well, if you do find the right person, but they think that you and me¡­¡±


    Yes. That may indeed be a problem. It¡¯s not as if I¡¯ve had time for romance, or that I¡¯m particularly looking for it, though. ¡°If it¡¯s relevant, we¡¯ll work something out together.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    It¡¯s another quiet day. I appreciate quiet days a lot more than I used to. I read for a while, practice some simple spellwork for a while, talk with my friends for a while. I know it won¡¯t last, though. And I have to be prepared for the next disaster.


    ¡°I am supposed to be teaching you defensive magic,¡± Edward says when I tell him how I¡¯m feeling over lunch. ¡°And now your leg is healed ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Mostly,¡± I point out. I haven¡¯t needed the crutches since getting back from Queen¡¯s Park yesterday, but I still feel the occasional twinge of pain.


    ¡°Mostly healed, you can do the more physical parts of it.¡±


    ¡°I had nothing else planned for this afternoon, so¡­¡±


    He smiles. ¡°Tell me. What do you know about magical combat?¡±


    ¡°Absolutely nothing.¡±


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll start from the beginning, then. I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m particularly qualified as a teacher here, it would be better if we had a proper tutor. But the Academy rules say you can¡¯t be privately taught in magic while you¡¯re studying here, so unless you want to ask Electra for private lessons¡­¡±


    I shudder. ¡°¡­maybe not.¡±


    ¡°¡­it looks like you¡¯re stuck with me.¡±


    There are worse teachers to be stuck with.


    ¡°Then again,¡± he adds, ¡°this isn¡¯t Magical Combat proper we¡¯re learning. We just don¡¯t know enough spells or have enough experience casting for that, not yet.¡±


    ¡°This is more so we have better chances of survival if we end up in a situation like the riot.¡±


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    I think back to it, trying to remember what Edward was doing then. What his father did. ¡°Shielding spells,¡± I say. ¡°Magical force.¡± They held the crowd back for a long time, and he used something of that nature before, against those police officers ¨C


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    Stars. The police officers. They were charging an illegal toll, and I think they would have tried to kill us to keep us silent.


    And I completely forgot about it.


    How could I have been so stupid? How many people could have been hurt since then, because of that?


    I feel my heart speeding up, my breathing becoming faster. It¡¯s all too familiar. No wonder I won¡¯t be prepared for the next disaster if I¡¯ve been as careless as all that. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just.


    ¡°Yes,¡± says Edward, and then: ¡°What is it? Remembering the riot?¡±


    I shake my head. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. ¡°Before that. The police. I forgot. I didn¡¯t tell ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I did,¡± he says.


    Of course he did. I can¡¯t work out whether I¡¯m relieved that at least one of us wasn¡¯t an utter idiot or utterly unsurprised that he coped so much better than I did.


    ¡°Sorry. I should have told you, but when you were getting your injuries checked out I wrote a full report of the incident for my dad, and I added a mention of the so-called Northwest District Toll to it. He¡¯ll have dealt with it by now.¡±


    I don¡¯t want to know what dealt with it means. I have to remind myself that they deserve the consequences of their actions.


    ¡°Really, though, it¡¯s not a problem that you forgot. It was your first time going through a life-threatening experience ¨C at least, I assume it was?¡±


    I force a smile. ¡°No, I had to fight my way through hordes of people trying to kill me to get to school every day.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°All this must be easy for you, then.¡±


    We both know he¡¯s not serious, but it makes me feel better nonetheless.


    ¡°Are you okay to get back to it?¡±


    ¡°Give me another minute,¡± I say. I feel more or less okay already, but I¡¯d rather wait to be sure the episode has passed. Just in case.


    It does pass, and Edward and I discuss the theory for a little while. It¡¯s not really much of a discussion, just me listing every idea that comes to mind and then when I¡¯ve exhausted everything Edward giving me hints that make me wonder why I didn¡¯t see what suddenly seems obvious.


    Then it¡¯s time to practice. We go to the gardens, since it¡¯s a nice day and we¡¯re less likely to get weird looks there. Edward teaches me a simple shielding-spell which can block a single physical attack ¨C its main advantage is that it can be cast extremely quickly with sufficient practice.


    And he¡¯s determined that I¡¯m going to get that sufficient practice. I manage to cast the spell correctly after only a handful of attempts, as Edward confirms by throwing more of his marbles at me and watching them bounce off. But I need to be faster.


    I cast again and again, the movements becoming repetitive and my chosen incantation of stop ceasing to sound like a proper word. Still not fast enough, Edward insists.


    ¡°You¡¯re getting there,¡± he says. ¡°But you¡¯re still having to stop and think for a second before casting, and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°In a real fight, I won¡¯t have that second. I know.¡±


    But I¡¯ve never trained for anything like this before, never needed to have quick reactions rather than having time to think. It¡¯s disconcerting. Edward¡¯s pelting my shields with marbles doesn¡¯t help, and after three or four successful-but-slow casts my concentration slips and one of them hits me in the chest.


    It hurts a lot more than you¡¯d expect it to hurt. If Edward threw them with real force, his marbles would make pretty good improvised weapons.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Edward says at once. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s my fault. I lost focus.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Maybe we should stop for today.¡±


    It feels a little like giving up, so I hesitate, even though stopping sounds quite nice.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to keep working on it, though. Every day, after lessons.¡±


    Not giving up, then; just postponing and extending the suffering. More acceptable. ¡°All right,¡± I concede.


    I read a little more that afternoon, and then go over my notes from the last week¡¯s lessons so that I¡¯m completely prepared when classes start again the next morning. Well, as prepared as I can be when my first lesson of the new week is with Electra, anyway.


    Electra has a little speech for us at the start of the lesson. Now that we¡¯ve been studying magic for nearly two months and have made so much progress, the Academy needs to see how much we¡¯ve learnt. So in three weeks¡¯ time, shortly before the end of term, there will be a set of tests.


    Several people audibly groan. Elsie slumps forwards over her desk, and Edward sighs.


    It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m a competent magician. I understand everything I¡¯ve learnt in classes. I can do this.


    That¡¯s not the last mention of the tests that day. Every one of our teachers mentions them, mostly to set out how they¡¯ll work for each individual subject. Just like our real exams in late spring, the ones that¡¯ll determine if we¡¯ve qualified as magicians or will have to repeat the year, there will be both a written theoretical test and a practical test for nearly all our subjects, with the obvious exceptions of Magical Law and Culture and Magical Theory.


    I don¡¯t want to hear any more details, especially not after the second time I¡¯ve been told that our results don¡¯t matter, it¡¯s just a way for us to know how well we¡¯ve been doing and where we need to improve. At least Electra didn¡¯t try to frame the tests as anything other than what they were.


    It¡¯s at the beginning of Alchemy, our fourth lesson of the day and the fourth time I¡¯ve heard the speech, that I feel the first signs of a Malaina episode. Stars, what¡¯s wrong with me? After everything I¡¯ve been through, just a mention of tests is enough to make me spiral right back into Malaina.


    Edward knows me well enough to notice something¡¯s wrong, but there isn¡¯t enough time between Alchemy and our final lesson of the day, Magical Law and Culture, for us to talk in private.


    I get through Sam¡¯s version of the speech about tests, which is annoyingly optimistic, with the help of the first twelve kings of Rasin, and then he announces the day¡¯s topic: Malaina.


    It had to happen at some point. And better that it¡¯s now: I¡¯m not half-broken to begin with, Mildred is gone from our class, and I¡¯m well-informed enough to be able to back up my points properly.


    ¡°I know this is going to be a controversial topic,¡± Sam says, ¡°particularly when some of our students are themselves Malaina. But it is a topic that needs to be discussed. So I¡¯m just going to remind you all to be respectful, and to take care before saying anything likely to offend your classmates. Is that clear?¡±


    There¡¯s a chorus of yeses from around the classroom.


    ¡°Let¡¯s begin with focusing on how the law treats Malaina. Can anyone give me an example of a law relating to Malaina?¡±


    I can give several examples, but I keep my mouth shut and my hand down. I want to see what my non-Malaina classmates come up with first.


    Edward and Elizabeth seem to have the same idea, so it¡¯s Robin who gives the first suggestion: a requirement for Malaina to register their addresses with a government board. She seems to be deliberately starting with the least controversial thing she can think of.


    ¡°What is the purpose of this law?¡±


    ¡°Public safety,¡± Robin says. ¡°So if there¡¯s a major destructive incident, the responders will know who¡¯s likely responsible and what they¡¯re capable of. Or if there¡¯s a disaster unrelated to Malaina, responders will be aware that they could encounter someone in the midst of an episode as a result.¡±


    I don¡¯t particularly like it, but I have to admit that¡¯s a sensible justification.


    ¡°Do you believe it is a fair law?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Does anyone disagree?¡±


    Silence.


    Sam laughs a little. ¡°Well. Glad we can all agree on some things. Does anyone have another example?¡±

 62. Debate

    There¡¯s another moment¡¯s silence. I think everyone is afraid to mention the major, obvious restrictions. I raise my hand.


    ¡°Yes, Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°Malaina aren¡¯t allowed to use the Portal Network,¡± I say, ¡°without¡­¡± I try to remember the precise wording Electra used against that guard, ¡°the authorisation of a suitably qualified person they¡¯re travelling with, who¡­ who agrees to take full responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Very true. And the purpose of that?¡±


    ¡°The destructive potential of an active episode in hyperspace. No-one wants a repeat of the Greyford disaster.¡±


    Stars, I realise suddenly: I had an active episode in hyperspace, that day in the library. Granted, the first thing I did in its grasp was to get out of hyperspace as quickly as possible, but still¡­


    I¡¯m so distracted by that horrifying thought that I miss Sam ask me if I think this law is fair, and he has to repeat it.


    I take a breath. First controversial statement of the debate it is, then. ¡°No. Electra told me that she doesn¡¯t believe it necessary because of the short duration of the travel by portal.¡±


    There are, as I expected, several disagreements with that idea. ¡°Active episodes can come on very quickly, though, can¡¯t they? Without warning,¡± Aisha points out.


    ¡°In some cases,¡± says Elizabeth quietly. ¡°It depends on the individual magician. Mine do. Not that I¡¯ve had one in months,¡± she adds hastily.


    ¡°I just don¡¯t think it¡¯s worth the risk. I know individual freedom is important, but if you weigh something like that against the risk of a second Greyford ¨C ¡°


    ¡°There is no risk,¡± Edward says sharply. ¡°There was research conducted before the establishment of the Portal Network. By my great-grandmother, actually; I¡¯ve read her notes. She observed Malaina experiencing active episodes in a pocket of stabilised hyperspace, with no adverse influence on the hyperspace except due to damage sustained by the wardwork maintaining it. And the ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I think Tallulah wants to say something?¡± Sam interrupts.


    My hand is indeed raised. ¡°Don¡¯t you think that experiments involving Malaina experiencing active episodes for the sake of science are¡­¡± utterly morally awful, I want to say, but I settle for ¡°¡­somewhat unethical?¡±


    ¡°I thought that went without saying. But yes. I don¡¯t condone her methods, but they were valid scientific experiments with valid results.¡±


    I¡¯m still a little uncomfortable with the idea, even if Edward is using it to support my point, but I keep my silence; it¡¯s not the point right now.


    ¡°Anyway, as I was saying, there are extremely thorough countermeasures taken to protect the wardwork that maintains the Portal Network. And the Royal Magicians know exactly why the Greyford disaster happened and how to prevent it from happening again.¡±


    ¡°Why did it happen?¡± asks Jake.


    ¡°That¡¯s classified.¡±


    Of course it is. I don¡¯t see why something like that has to be classified, unless ¨C never mind, I¡¯m stupid; making it public knowledge how to destroy one of the largest cities in Rasin and cripple the country¡¯s infrastructure in one blow would be a disaster if we ever went to war.


    ¡°Do you know it?¡± asks Hannah, an edge to her voice. I shoot her a warning look.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why that¡¯s relevant,¡± Edward replies evenly.


    ¡°No,¡± Hannah says. ¡°I don¡¯t suppose you would.¡±


    I give her another look. She shuts up.


    The class is split down the middle about whether these particular restrictions are necessary or not. Robin puts forward the argument that even if they¡¯re not strictly necessary, it¡¯s important to give the public confidence in the Portal Network, to which Elsie fires back something about encouraging the perception that Malaina are a threat to public safety.


    I know what¡¯s coming as soon as I hear that, and I know I¡¯m not going to like it.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Daniel. ¡°Aren¡¯t they?¡±


    Then several people are talking at once, and I can¡¯t quite make out what¡¯s being said: something about mala sia, something about one of the kindest people I know, something about statistics.


    Sam holds up a hand for silence, and gets it. ¡°Please don¡¯t talk over each other, everyone. I know a lot of you feel strongly about this, but we want to have a calm and respectful discussion. Daniel, you¡¯re proposing that Malaina are a threat to public safety. Why do you believe that?¡±


    He¡¯s staring at Sam as if he doesn¡¯t see why he should have to explain something so obvious. ¡°Well. They could turn into mala sia at any moment, couldn¡¯t they? And even if they don¡¯t¡­ people die because of Malaina episodes. Uncontrolled destructive magic is dangerous.¡±


    I¡¯m not dangerous, I want to say, but he has a point. I could be. I could have seriously hurt Mildred that time if Electra hadn¡¯t stopped me. I could have burnt far more than just half a tree to the ground when I Fell.


    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°And I think a couple of you disagreed with that?¡±


    Edward and Elsie both raise their hands. Sam calls on Elsie first.


    ¡°A couple of months ago, I would have agreed with Daniel,¡± she says. ¡°Then I met Tallulah.¡±


    I blink a few times.


    ¡°She¡¯s Malaina, and she¡¯s one of the kindest people I know. I realise there was the incident with Mildred, but I don¡¯t think she was in any way to blame for that, and I can¡¯t believe she would ever be a threat to public safety.¡±


    ¡°I never said she was,¡± Daniel protests. ¡°I never said anyone in this room was.¡±


    ¡°You did,¡± Edward points out. ¡°You said that Malaina are a threat to public safety, and there are three Malaina in this room. The second statement follows logically from the first, so unless your beliefs are logically inconsistent ¨C ¡°


    I have to hold back laughter at that argument. He does have a point, but the pedantic way he presents it is never going to convince anyone who doesn¡¯t think like he does.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing inconsistent about it. Malaina in general and the specific Malaina in this room don¡¯t have to be the same thing.¡±


    ¡°So you believe that the sample of Malaina in this room isn¡¯t representative of the general Malaina population?¡±


    I need to intervene. ¡°Edward,¡± I say, ¡°would you like me to translate your arguments into something that a normal person could actually be convinced by?¡±


    ¡°If it would make you feel better,¡± he says.


    ¡°Thanks. What he¡¯s trying to say is that¡­ you have this idea of Malaina in general as a faceless, dangerous mass. And of the three of us as people, because you¡¯ve met us and spent time with us and you can tell we¡¯re human. But all Malaina are also human, even if you haven¡¯t got to know them. So why would you assume that other Malaina aren¡¯t like us?¡±


    ¡°¡­huh,¡± says Daniel slowly. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought about it that way. You do have a point.¡±


    I refrain, barely, from shooting Edward a triumphant glance. It is satisfying, though, knowing that there are still some things I can do better than he can.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean what Daniel said is wrong, though,¡± Hannah points out. ¡°People have died because of Malaina, and more people will die because of Malaina.¡±


    I can¡¯t deny that, so I don¡¯t try.


    ¡°A tiny minority of Malaina,¡± Edward says. ¡°I¡¯ve looked at statistics, and ninety percent of episodes involving serious damage to life or property are caused by less than five percent of the Malaina population.¡±


    While no-one dares dispute Edward¡¯s statistics, that leads to a new debate and one I think gets closer to the heart of the problem. Where should the line be drawn between restrictions to prevent that five percent from causing harm and restrictions that discriminate against the innocent, largely harmless remainder? Which laws fall into which of those categories?


    Elizabeth talks about the fact that Malaina aren¡¯t allowed to join half of the SMOs, and there are tight restrictions on their joining the Birds or Twelfth Division, which she argues is a mistake on the part of those running them: ¡°It¡¯s hard enough as it is to recruit magicians willing to dedicate their lives to such service. Why turn away so many possibilities?¡±


    This is personal for her, I realise: she is one of those magicians willing to dedicate her life to it, and she doesn¡¯t want Malaina to derail her ambitions any more than it already has.


    But there are reasonable counterarguments to that point, which Robin puts forward: the work the SMOs do means their members will find themselves dealing with crises, emergencies, danger to their life. And we can¡¯t expect them to have perfect self-control in a position like that.


    Which I have to agree with. I remember the riot; I still don¡¯t know what I would have chosen if Lord Blackthorn had been just a few seconds slower. Choose death, Electra insisted. How many people would be able to do that if it came to it?


    Despite Elizabeth¡¯s arguments that much of military training is designed to teach soldiers to remain calm and in control in exactly those situations, the majority of the class agrees with Robin on this one.


    I¡¯m pleasantly surprised by how well this debate is going. Since Daniel and Edward¡¯s altercation no-one has said anything that could hurt anyone else, and the class are actually taking the time to listen to each other and try to understand each other¡¯s perspectives. Why can¡¯t more debates be like this one?


    But maybe that¡¯s because no-one dares mention the worst things. Instability. The asylums. Mala sia. What should be done about those five percent.


    Maybe I should just say it. Even though I don¡¯t want to, it doesn¡¯t feel right to leave out the darker parts of the problem we¡¯re discussing. When the talk about under what circumstances people should be required to reveal they¡¯re Malaina concludes, I raise my hand to contribute the next point.


    ¡°Thank you for that, Elsie, and thank you to everyone who contributed. I¡¯m very pleased with you all for the mature and respectful way you¡¯ve handled this. Unfortunately we¡¯re out of time for today¡¯s lesson; we¡¯ll continue on Wednesday.¡±


    I blink. Has it been a whole hour already? It didn¡¯t feel like an hour. I like it when lessons go this quickly; it reminds me of history back at Genford. I do miss studying history properly, having people to discuss it with.


    ¡°Study room?¡± Edward asks as we get up to leave.


    I nod. We¡¯ve been given two new homework assignments, and both of us like to have them completed as soon as possible. I¡¯m not too tired after the day¡¯s lessons, so it makes sense to get straight to work.


    But Edward doesn¡¯t want to work straight away. Instead, once the door shuts behind us, he says ¡°So. Do you want to talk about the tests?¡±


    Oh. Yes. That. I hang my satchel on the back of my chair. ¡°I¡¯m okay.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re having passive episodes just because you know they exist¡­ I¡¯m not sure you are.¡±


    ¡°¡­yeah,¡± I admit. It¡¯s only going to get worse as they get closer, as more time is taken up by revision and friendly reminders not to worry about how we do and everyone worrying about them nonetheless. ¡°Bad memories.¡±


    ¡°From your old school?¡±


    I nod. I don¡¯t know if Edward will understand. But I have to trust him, after everything we¡¯ve done together. ¡°I was a scholarship girl,¡± I begin. ¡°It meant, as long as I did well enough on the end-of-year exams, I could attend Genford without my family having to pay the full fees.¡±


    Edward seems about to say something, but he keeps his silence and waits for me to continue.


    ¡°My family would never have been able to afford the full fees. So I had to get good grades or lose my place. What all the teachers said today ¨C ¡° I make air quotes with my fingers ¨C ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it, it¡¯s just a way of seeing how much you¡¯ve learnt. They always said that at Genford too, just before end-of-year exams. And for most students, it was.¡±


    ¡°But not for you,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°No. Not for me.¡±


    ¡°Always having to fight for your place somewhere you didn¡¯t belong.¡±


    I nod. He does understand, at least the parts that matter. ¡°I¡­¡± It¡¯s a struggle to get the words out; this is a secret I¡¯ve never told anyone. ¡°I did consider, a few times, just¡­ not fighting. Getting an average grade. So then I wouldn¡¯t have to go back.¡±


    ¡°But you didn¡¯t.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°It was my parents who stopped me. Imagining how disappointed they¡¯d be, that I¡¯d lost such a valuable opportunity. Now I wonder if I should have done it. I wouldn¡¯t have Fallen if I had.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t be who you are now if you had,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have met you if I had,¡± I say.


    He nods. ¡°And now¡­ now it feels as if you¡¯re having to fight for your place here, where you do belong.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I admit. ¡°It does.¡±

 63. Letter

    Edward tells me all the facts I already know, but that I need someone to tell me anyway. These tests genuinely have no impact on anything; even if I fail them all, all it means is I¡¯ll likely be getting remedial lessons to make sure I can improve and catch up in time to qualify in spring. I¡¯m not going to fail. I may not get the top grades in everything, but I¡¯ve done extremely well in difficult circumstances thus far and there¡¯s no reason I shouldn¡¯t pass with excellent marks.


    It helps more than I thought it would.


    ¡°Plus,¡± he adds, smiling, ¡°you have me for a teacher.¡±


    I laugh.


    I¡¯ve been getting more letters since the newspapers revealed my name. Nothing has been close to as bad as that first day, but I¡¯m still in the habit of checking the post room on my way back from breakfast each morning and spending a while filtering through the assorted threats and worries and congratulations.


    The next morning, though, there are a couple of letters that deviate from the usual pattern. One of them is an invitation to speak at a conference on Malaina, or something of that nature ¨C normally I¡¯d read it through half a dozen times in surprise and have it memorised, but I don¡¯t.


    Because I see the small, neat writing on the address of the second unusual letter and recognise it at once: my mother¡¯s.


    I suppose at least she deigned to write back.


    I can¡¯t bring myself to open it. I hesitate, fingers about to tear open the envelope ¨C at least this letter won¡¯t contain any toxins or deadly enchantments ¨C and feel a sense of utter dread.


    What if this letter is the end of any hope of repairing our relationship? What if it¡¯s no better than any of the other threats or insults I¡¯ve received?


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.


    I slump back against the wall of the empty study room and lie there, unmoving, waiting for the episode to pass.


    We have a free period first thing on Tuesdays, so I don¡¯t have to worry about opening it just before lessons. If I do it now, there¡¯ll still be time to piece myself together enough to get through the rest of the day.


    Stars, though, I don¡¯t want to have to piece myself back together yet again. Haven¡¯t I been through enough, without a letter from my own mother being filled with unknown horrors?


    I should just open it. Get it over with. I¡¯ll have to do it at some point, and this awful anticipation isn¡¯t making things any better. I pick it up from where it fell on the floor in the initial rush of the Malaina episode, but my hands won¡¯t listen to my command to tear it open.


    I¡¯m going to open this letter, I tell myself, here and now. All I have to do is tear off the top strip of the envelope. Why do I want to tear it in half instead?


    No, that¡¯s not what I really want to do. I want to burn it, watch it crumble to ashes just as I watched Ruby¡¯s notebook crumble to ashes, complete the destruction ¨C


    Richard Blackbeard. Lucy the Fair. Alfred the Short. I thought I knew the warning signs by now. I didn¡¯t expect an episode to just sneak up on me like that. But sneak up it did.


    I need to face this, and I can¡¯t do it alone.


    It takes me longer than usual to track Edward down, but I eventually find him just outside the library, discussing something ¨C no doubt an obscure element of magical theory ¨C with Rosie. Both of them turn as I enter.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± Edward says, and then: ¡°We¡¯ll have to finish this conversation some other time. Thanks, Rosie.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re quite welcome,¡± she says at the same time as I protest ¡°It¡¯s okay. I can wait. Finish your talk.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± says Edward. I¡¯m almost relieved, so I don¡¯t fight him any further.


    He doesn¡¯t ask me what¡¯s wrong, or whether I¡¯m okay; he just waits for me to speak.


    ¡°My mother replied,¡± I say, forcing the words out.


    ¡°What did she¡­¡±


    I reach into my bag and hand him the unopened envelope.


    ¡°You don¡¯t want to open it alone,¡± he says.


    I shake my head. ¡°I¡­ I don¡¯t know if I can open it. I tried just now, and¡­¡± I let my grimace finish the sentence.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Edward nods. ¡°Right. Meeting room?¡±


    I nod.


    It takes us maybe a minute to get to the meeting room. I wish it were longer. By the time we get there it¡¯s nine and thirty: half an hour until lessons start. If the news is bad it¡¯ll take me longer than that. Maybe I should leave it until this evening ¨C


    Edward holds the letter out to me.


    He¡¯s not going to let me leave this room until I¡¯ve opened it. Which is what I need. It¡¯s just not what I want.


    I can open the envelope, at least. I won¡¯t actually see the words until I¡¯ve taken the paper out and unfolded it. Just tearing off a strip of paper doesn¡¯t change anything. I take the envelope from him and do it, in one smooth motion before I have the chance to hesitate again.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°that¡¯s a start.¡±


    I set the envelope down on the table and keep the torn-off strip, folding it and rolling it almost unconsciously. I feel a little better when my hands are working, even if it¡¯s working on nothing meaningful.


    ¡°Go on,¡± says Edward, gently but firmly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry for interrupting your conversation.¡±


    ¡°This is more important.¡±


    It¡¯s the complete certainty with which he says it that gets to me. It gives me the strength to take the letter out of the envelope. A single sheet of paper, folded in two, thick enough that the words don¡¯t bleed through. All I have to do is unfold it and read the words it bears.


    I¡¯m shaking, I realise. It¡¯s not a Malaina episode, that danger has passed for now. It¡¯s just a physical reaction to that letter. As if my body is refusing to obey orders. It would be the easiest thing in the world to unfold that piece of paper, and yet it feels like the hardest.


    Edward watches me, saying nothing, patient. Encouraging me to do it just by being there.


    I breathe. Even that feels like a way of fighting back against this ghastly paralysis, reminding myself that I am in control of my body and my magic.


    I just wish I was in control of my life as well. I wish there wasn¡¯t so much depending on the contents of this letter.


    Edward reaches out and lets his hand brush mine: my left hand, dangling by my side, not my right hand, poised over the letter. It¡¯s an intimate gesture, and I realise why Robin thinks we¡¯re dating having seen him comfort me. But it¡¯s not like that: it¡¯s just a physical reminder that he¡¯s there, that he¡¯s supporting me.


    I squeeze my eyes shut and unfold the letter. Press it against the table, smooth and flatten it by touch. Count to ten, and then to twenty. Open my eyes. Begin to read.


    Tallulah,


    Thank you for your letter, and for your apology. I am glad to know that you have not entirely turned against your mother and everything your father and I have done for you.


    That¡¯s something, I suppose. More civil than I expected.


    But we still have serious concerns about the influence the Academy, and in particular the Blackthorn boy, are having on you.


    The next paragraph or so is a brutal description of Edward¡¯s abominable rudeness and meddling in a situation of which he understands nothing. ¡°I don¡¯t think she likes you,¡± I say to him.


    ¡°I don¡¯t particularly care about her opinion of me,¡± he replies. ¡°Keep reading.¡±


    It is my duty as your mother to see that you are removed from the source of that influence. I have written also to Miss James, the woman responsible for your well-being while you are in attendance at the Academy, with a set of instructions. If these are not followed to my satisfaction, I will be forced to withdraw you from the Academy and find alternative arrangements for your education.


    I look forward to seeing you for Holy Days.


    Your loving mother, and her signature.


    I take a shuddering breath. It could be worse. Stars, it¡¯s bad, but it could be worse. ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°The good news is that I can go home for Holy Days.¡±


    Edward says nothing, though I imagine he¡¯s probably thinking that news is not particularly good.


    ¡°The bad news is that she¡¯s written to Electra with a set of instructions for removing the bad influence you and the Academy are having on me. And is threatening to withdraw me from the Academy if they¡¯re not followed. Can she actually do that?¡±


    I know if she did, I¡¯d break. Fall further, deeper, than I ever have before.


    ¡°You turn sixteen on the Bird¡¯s Day, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I do have the misfortune of a Holy Day birthday, and years of never having a celebration that belonged solely to me as a result. I nod.


    ¡°Then after that, she has no legal authority to do that.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t help me until then,¡± I say, frustrated. ¡°And even if she can¡¯t legally do that, she¡¯s perfectly within her rights to not let me live in her house if I won¡¯t withdraw myself.¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s a good thing you have an open invitation to stay in one of the most luxurious manors in the City as long as you need to, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Your dad ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Would allow that for me. I¡¯ve asked him.¡±


    That wasn¡¯t quite what I meant; I don¡¯t particularly want to live in the same house as Edward¡¯s father. It would be better than leaving the Academy, though.


    ¡°And what about your dad? He has as much of a say as that woman does in whether you stay here, doesn¡¯t he? Does he approve of this ultimatum of hers?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t even thought of that. What would I do without Edward to be the rational one when I can barely think coherently? Though my mind is clearer than I expected it to be. Maybe the passive episodes I¡¯ve already had this morning protect me for a while.


    ¡°The letter doesn¡¯t say.¡±


    ¡°Not what I asked.¡±


    Do I believe that my father would approve of something like this? That he¡¯d ever agree with it? He used to agree with my mother about me most of the time, before all this, but this is different. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°He would never do that.¡±


    ¡°And he¡¯s a lawyer,¡± Edward adds, smiling. ¡°That means he¡¯ll know how to resolve it if it comes to a legal battle.¡±


    But he loves his wife as much as his daughter, and he would far rather find a compromise that holds his family together than see it torn apart in a legal dispute. Which is a problem when my mother¡¯s position is so far from mine.


    ¡°I need to know exactly what these instructions are,¡± I say.


    ¡°Electra,¡± Edward says grimly.


    I nod, just as grimly. Though¡­ she did give me so much desperately needed support during my isolation, without once abusing the power she held over me. Maybe this is another of those circumstances?


    I don¡¯t trust her, though. But I don¡¯t have much choice, do I? ¡°We have her tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll want to talk to her before then,¡± Edward says. ¡°Don¡¯t want a rushed conversation between lessons. Go and knock on her door after lessons today.¡±


    He¡¯s right, unfortunately.


    And speaking of lessons, we don¡¯t have much time before today¡¯s start. I pick up the letter, resisting the temptation to burn it, and slip it back into my satchel. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. You are always welcome, Tallulah.¡±

 64. Teacher and Student

    Edward offers to come with me to visit Electra that afternoon, but I turn him down: I don¡¯t think she¡¯d be pleased by it, and besides given that his abominable behaviour is likely to be a topic of discussion he probably shouldn¡¯t be present. I feel very alone standing in front of her office door, and I can¡¯t help remembering the lost and lonely girl who first met Edward here a couple of short months ago.


    She would never have been able to cope with the conversation I¡¯m about to have. I don¡¯t know if I can. But I¡¯ll have to: I¡¯ve come too far to give up or break now. I let myself take a single deep breath before knocking.


    ¡°Thank you for waiting. Miss James will see you shortly.¡±


    I¡¯d forgotten she¡¯d enchanted her door, but it still doesn¡¯t startle me as much as it did when I first knocked on it. I¡¯m so much more used to magic now than I was.


    I opt to avoid Edward¡¯s strategy of pelting the door with marbles until she answers; in hindsight I¡¯m surprised that she wasn¡¯t harsher on him after that. Instead I wait, counting seconds in my head. I get to fourteen before she opens the door.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says. ¡°I suppose this is about the letter I received from your mother in this morning¡¯s post.¡± She doesn¡¯t look pleased, though I can¡¯t tell whether she¡¯s angry with me or my mother.


    ¡°It is,¡± I say. ¡°But I ¨C I can come back later, if this is a bad time.¡±


    ¡°It is a good time, in fact. Do come in.¡±


    I enter. The d¨¦cor hasn¡¯t changed since I was last here: black, black and more black. I¡¯m on edge already, especially when she offers me the same seat I sat in when she nearly stabbed me. Just because I¡¯ve somehow forgiven her that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m comfortable with the reminder. Still, no choice but to sit down, I suppose.


    ¡°We should begin by making sure we both have the same understanding of the situation,¡± says Electra, lowering herself into her own black armchair. ¡°Do you have a copy of the letter your mother sent you about this?¡±


    I fish it out of my satchel and hand it to her. She smooths it out on the desk in front of her and skims through it. When she looks up again, I see to my horror that she¡¯s smiling, and her lips are twitching with what might be supressed laughter. ¡°I suppose Edward and your mother have met, then?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes ¨C but ¨C ¡° Is she implying that Edward deserved the horrible things she said about him? ¡°He didn¡¯t ¨C she ¨C ¡°


    Electra cuts me off with a lazy wave of her hand. ¡°I quite understand. Whatever Edward¡¯s talents, tact is not among them, and in such a sensitive position¡­ it does not surprise me that your mother took offence at the things he told her. Well, here is the letter that I received from your mother.¡±


    She passes two pieces of paper over: one is the letter I received, now that she¡¯s finished reading it. I tuck that back into my satchel and focus on reading through the other. It¡¯s about what I expected: I am to have no further contact with Edward Blackthorn and am to be transferred to a different class to guarantee this; my mother is to be informed of the people I associate with and whether they are likely to be a negative influence on me; my teachers are to send her monthly reports on my progress and attitude; she is to visit me every two weeks, and expects the Academy to pay the portal toll for such visits; if possible I am to be moved into advanced classes and take the qualifying examination as soon as I am judged ready; she is to be told when I leave the Academy grounds and in whose company.


    ¡°Well,¡± Electra says, once she¡¯s given me enough time to take all that in. ¡°How am I to proceed?¡±


    Stars, I hate her for that question. I scan through the list again, but not one of these instructions is something I could willingly obey. I can¡¯t have her knowing everything I¡¯m doing, there¡¯s no chance of me taking advanced classes if even Edward can¡¯t, and as for giving Edward up we¡¯ve already established that is impossible.


    But this is an ultimatum, she¡¯s made that much clear. This, or leave the Academy altogether. And even if I fought her on that, got my dad¡¯s support or made the decision myself after Holy Days, it would mean the end of any pretence at a cordial relationship between us.


    I¡¯d try to negotiate, but I don¡¯t think there¡¯s a compromise to be made here. She won¡¯t yield on any of this, and stars help me neither will I.


    Electra sits there, watching me, waiting.


    I have my answer; she¡¯s driven me to it. I will not obey these instructions, I will not leave the Academy, and if that¡¯s the end of our relationship then so be it.


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    But the question of what to say now is not the same one. If I tell Electra that, what will she do? Would she help me in subverting my mother¡¯s wishes, or inform her immediately of my intentions?


    I think back to my isolation, to everything that she did then, and decide that I have no better option than to trust her. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I won¡¯t do it.¡±


    She smiles, slowly and deliberately. ¡°Good,¡± she says. ¡°That was what I hoped you¡¯d say. There was no prospect of these instructions being enforced regardless, of course: half of them are beyond my power, and I would be going against my duty of care to you to attempt to enforce the other half.¡±


    She was testing me. Stars, of course she was testing me. Even when she¡¯s helping me, even when I¡¯m reliant on her help, I hate her.


    ¡°The problem, though, is what our response is to be. Without the visitation clause we could have between us kept up the pretence that you were obeying the instructions while you did no such thing, but as it is¡­¡±


    Is she saying she would have helped me forge official Academy documents to lie to my mother and hide my life from her? Stars.


    ¡°As it is,¡± I say, ¡°we have no choice but to openly refuse her. Which means that she will attempt to have me withdrawn from the Academy.¡±


    I know my mother well enough to understand that her threat is very much not empty: she will rid this place of its influence on me one way or another.


    ¡°She will fail,¡± Electra says calmly.


    ¡°After Holy Days there¡¯s nothing she can do,¡± I say, ¡°but before that¡­ she is still my guardian. Jointly, with my father. And¡­ he loves her. He¡¯s seen my studying here leading me to isolation and trial for instability. I think she could convince him.¡±


    I hope I¡¯m wrong, but the fact is that I can¡¯t rely on my father. Not after he never even noticed me Falling until it was too late.


    And if my mother does convince him that withdrawing from the Academy is in my best interests, there¡¯s not a thing I can do about it.


    ¡°You forget, Tallulah. You¡¯re not alone; you might have made yourself many enemies, but you have powerful allies too.¡±


    ¡°Even if Lord Blackthorn can make this problem go away¡­ I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d like his method of doing it, and I don¡¯t particularly want to end up any more in debt to him than I already am.¡±


    ¡°Quite understandable,¡± she says. ¡°Though some level of entanglement, as you¡¯ve discovered already, is unavoidable if you wish to remain friends with his son. I was not referring to him; I was referring to myself.¡±


    That startles me. I hadn¡¯t thought of her as either powerful or my ally. But I suppose she does have a lot of influence over the Academy ¨C she has to, just by the fact she still has a job here despite her usual behaviour ¨C and its Malaina students in particular. And whatever I may think of her, she is trying to help me.


    I¡¯m not sure she¡¯s much of an improvement over Lord Blackthorn, though.


    ¡°If it helps,¡± she adds, ¡°I give you my word that your parents will not be harmed physically through my actions. And any emotional harm will be only due to making them face the consequences of their own decisions, for you and for themselves. So, would you like my help?¡±


    There¡¯s only one sensible answer. She just wants the satisfaction of hearing me say it. ¡°Yes,¡± I say through gritted teeth.


    She smiles once more. ¡°Is there anything else I can help you with?¡±


    ¡°Unless you can make the world forget about what happened in the riot¡­¡±


    ¡°That may be a little beyond my powers,¡± Electra admits. ¡°How about this?¡± She pulls a scrap of paper from her robes and hands it to me.


    It¡¯s a form allowing me to borrow restricted books from the Academy¡¯s library for independent study, with her signature. There are two books listed in the appropriate place in the form: A Guide to Making and Breaking Wards for Beginners, and ¨C is that ¨C


    It is. A True History of the Thalian Crisis of the Year 900. There must only be a dozen copies in existence: even nearly a hundred years later, many powerful people don¡¯t want the story it contains made public due to the sheer depths of corruption it reveals their ancestors to be capable of. I had no idea there was even a copy in the Academy.


    It¡¯s a historian¡¯s treasure. I suppose Electra must have realised my interest in history after seeing my book requests to Edward when I was in isolation. And the other book is one I know Edward has been desperate to get his hands on for months (his dad wants him to focus more on enchanting for now).


    The perfect gift a teacher could give the two of us. Which, since this is Electra offering it, makes me immediately suspicious. ¡°What¡¯s the catch?¡±


    She shrugs, holding out her empty palms in a gesture that does nothing to reassure me. ¡°No catch. You and Edward have had a tough couple of months, and I think you deserve a little compensation. Of course I do have evidence proving that signature is a forgery.¡±


    Why ¨C I take a second to think before opening my mouth and realise it¡¯s a precaution against us handing the form to the authorities and using it to get her in trouble for illicitly giving us access to restricted books. ¡°Noted,¡± I say.


    But she has to have an ulterior motive. Electra does not do us favours like this out of the goodness of her heart. I just can¡¯t work out what it is. The best way to understand someone¡¯s actions is first to understand their motivations. I don¡¯t understand Electra¡¯s motivations, I never have. ¡°What do you want?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says, smiling, ¡°I only want the best for my students. Take the form, if you want it.¡±


    I place my hand on it and hesitate. Stars. Maybe her motivation is just to watch me suffer through wondering what her motivation is. Is this some plot against us? It can¡¯t hurt to take this, even if we don¡¯t use it, can it? And then I can talk about it with Edward, who might actually be able to understand it.


    I slide the form off the table and into my satchel. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, standing to leave. ¡°Really.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re most welcome. Do let me know if there¡¯s anything else I can do for you.¡±


    I swing my satchel over my shoulder and walk over to the door. It¡¯s locked. Stars damn her. I take a deep breath, turn and face her. ¡°The door is locked,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t get out.¡±


    ¡°I must have activated that part of my wards,¡± she says. ¡°Forgive me.¡± She reaches over to the ivory tiles behind her and presses down on a couple of them. ¡°You may leave now.¡±


    I try the handle, and the door swings smoothly open. I¡¯m free.

 65. Interlude: Electra Helps

    Ben watched the door swing shut behind his last client of the day with relief, not that he¡¯d admit it to anyone. He loved his job, he really did, but sometimes it was a bit¡­ much. Especially when he was having to explain that no, irritating as neighbours¡¯ waste stinking out your house was, there was nothing illegal about it and hence nothing that Roberts and Bryant could do to help.


    Well, anyway, it was done for another day. He could go home and rest now. Not that home was likely to be particularly restful, with Louise in the mood she was. He regretted concealing Tallulah¡¯s hearing from her now that she knew. If she ever found out he¡¯d lied to her, even by omission¡­ stars, he was lucky his daughter was still willing to cover for him despite how badly he¡¯d failed her.


    He''d encouraged her to visit the Academy, stars help him, thinking that his wife and daughter would be reminded they loved each other when they met face-to-face. He should have known better. She¡¯d barely stopped cursing the name of Blackthorn since coming back.


    Which in turn caused him another headache, because she couldn¡¯t find out that Lord Blackthorn was responsible for the sudden improvement in the fortunes of Roberts and Bryant. Simon had been more optimistic about his offer than Ben, seeing it as the answer to their problems even if it came with a hidden price, and they¡¯d accepted after only brief negotiations. He¡¯d delivered everything he promised and had yet to ask for a thing in return.


    Things were going well, better than they had in ages, but Ben knew it couldn¡¯t last. There were just too many ways this house of cards he¡¯d built could come tumbling down and ruin everything.


    He sighed and gathered his papers into a neat pile to be filed away. He¡¯d just have to keep going, one day at a time, until the inevitable disaster hit. As he was about to stand, there was a knock on the door.


    ¡°Yes?¡± he called out.


    The door opened, revealing Tara on the other side. She was another of the recent changes, and one he was pleased with. Hiring her on a trial basis had been a spontaneous decision born more of sheer relief that his daughter was safe and gratitude to her for bringing the news than anything else, but her performance had been nothing short of excellent. She still seemed nervous and unsure of her place here, though, which was probably why she was bringing this message when it wasn¡¯t in her job description.


    ¡°Ben. I know you¡¯re finishing for the day, sorry to interrupt. But there¡¯s a woman here to see you about your daughter.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell me,¡± Ben said, barely holding back another sigh. ¡°Small, black magician¡¯s robes, smile that makes you wonder if she wants to eat you.¡±


    Tara¡¯s lips quirked in amusement. ¡°You¡¯ve met Electra, then. Shall I¡­¡±


    ¡°Show her in,¡± he replied. ¡°Thank you, Tara.¡±


    She disappeared without another word, efficient as usual.


    Stars. Again? So soon? He knew Tallulah was dealing with a lot right now, between the tension between her and Louise and the newspaper headlines and whatever was really happening with the Blackthorns, but¡­ he¡¯d failed her again, hadn¡¯t he? She needed him, and here he was spending his days arguing about strangers¡¯ waste.


    No. That wasn¡¯t true. His job was still important. Most things he dealt with were far from so pointless. He was righting injustice, one case at a time, but he was still failing Tallulah as he did so.


    Tara returned, accompanied by Electra, before he had any further time to let his mind linger on those dark thoughts or dread the news the teacher brought.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asked, voice nearly choking on the words. ¡°Has she¡­¡±


    ¡°Had another active episode? No. In fact, I am impressed by the control and strength of character she is learning, though I wish the circumstances made it less necessary.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll¡­ leave you to it,¡± said Tara, stepping backwards awkwardly. ¡°Give Tallulah my best wishes, would you?¡± She finished her retreat without waiting for a response from either of them.


    Electra stepped inside and shut the door behind her.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. Where are my manners. Do sit down.¡±


    She stalked over to the chair and sat. ¡°Are you aware,¡± she asked, ¡°of the contents of the letter your wife sent me this morning?¡±


    Ben shook his head mutely. He hadn¡¯t known Louise had even written to Electra. And after instantly loathing her when they¡¯d briefly met on the day Tallulah left, as well. What had his wife done? He shouldn¡¯t have snapped at her the day she got back from the Academy, shouldn¡¯t have told her he didn¡¯t want to listen to her rants about the Blackthorns.


    She hadn¡¯t subjected him to any more of them, restraining herself to snide comments, but neither had they had a proper conversation about the Tallulah situation since.


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    ¡°I have it here,¡± she said, ¡°if you would like to read it.¡±


    If Louise hadn¡¯t told him, it was for good reason. This was her private correspondence; did he have the right to read it? Legally he did, if its recipient showed it to him, but morally? It would be just another small addition to the fast-growing rift between the two of them.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he said anyway. Because it was his concern; Electra clearly thought so, and besides if it was serious and about Tallulah then he couldn¡¯t refuse.


    She smiled ¨C those smiles of hers would never stop sending shivers up his spine ¨C and handed him a single sheet of paper.


    The handwriting was unmistakably Louise¡¯s, but the words were¡­ no. No, he¡¯d known she felt this way, he¡¯d just chosen to ignore it. He could ignore it no longer. It was a list of demands that the Academy restrict Tallulah¡¯s behaviour and give Louise information about it, most prominently featuring the insistence that she cease to associate with Edward Blackthorn at once.


    Half of them the Academy had no legal authority to enforce, and he couldn¡¯t imagine them being particularly keen to implement the other half.


    And above that, the warning that if they were not enforced in full, Louise would be left with no choice but to withdraw Tallulah from the Academy. He felt a stab of anger at that: what right did she have to make a threat like that without consulting him? They were both Tallulah¡¯s parents; they had equal say in decisions about her future. That had been the agreement from the beginning.


    ¡°No,¡± Ben said shakily. ¡°No, she didn¡¯t tell me any of this. I¡­ have you¡­ does she¡­¡±


    ¡°I have spoken to Tallulah about this, yes. We have agreed that she will make no attempt to abide by these instructions and I will make no attempt to enforce them.¡±


    That was that, then. Battle lines were being drawn, and his wife and daughter were on opposite sides of them. Louise was clearly in the wrong here: her worry for Tallulah was more than understandable, but resorting to measures like this couldn¡¯t be justified. He would have to persuade her to back down, find a compromise of some sort ¨C


    ¡°I see,¡± Ben said. ¡°So I suppose my wife will attempt to have Tallulah withdrawn from the Academy, then.¡± He had to be practical, objective about this. It was just another case, just another dispute. The most important thing was to be informed of all the facts.


    ¡°As soon as she is made aware of Tallulah¡¯s decision, yes.¡±


    ¡°And Tallulah does not want this,¡± he guessed. If she was prepared to accept it then there was no discussion to be had. And he¡¯d read her letters, from before everything went so wrong for a second time. She had been happy there; maybe she still was. Stars help him, he didn¡¯t know.


    ¡°She does not. Which means that the relevant question is: what do you want?¡±


    That was the question. He wasn¡¯t an expert in family law, but he knew enough to realise that if he and Louise disagreed on what to do then his side would be taken in the resulting dispute. It was his signature on the Academy¡¯s paperwork that had enrolled her in the first place, and the courts tended to take a minor¡¯s own wishes into account when ruling in ambiguous cases.


    ¡°What¡¯s best for Tallulah,¡± he said. ¡°Only¡­ only I don¡¯t know what that is any more.¡±


    ¡°I doubt you can ever truly know what¡¯s best for someone,¡± Electra replied, staring off into the distance. ¡°But I would like to tell you what I think is best for Tallulah, if you¡¯ll allow me.¡±


    Ben didn¡¯t think she particularly cared whether he wanted to hear her or not. But she¡¯d seen Tallulah at her most vulnerable, helped her make it through that. There was a good argument that she had a better understanding of his daughter than he did, stars help him. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°Edward Blackthorn,¡± said Electra.


    Ben blinked. ¡°Say that again. I¡¯m not quite sure I heard you.¡±


    ¡°Edward Blackthorn,¡± she repeated. ¡°I¡¯ve seen the two of them together. I know some of what they¡¯ve survived and accomplished together. You¡¯ve met him, have you not? You saw how much he cares about her.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ben admitted, because it was undeniably true. ¡°But ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If you¡¯re about to say he¡¯s a Blackthorn,¡± Electra interrupted, ¡°I am aware of that fact. A person¡¯s family does not define them, even one as¡­ unusual as his.¡±


    Well. Ben would be a hypocrite for disapproving of his daughter¡¯s association with Edward Blackthorn given the arrangement he had with the boy¡¯s father. But that wasn¡¯t the same: he was under no illusions that Lord Blackthorn saw him as anything other than another name on his list of contacts, another tool to toss at problems.


    There could be no friendship between the two of them.


    Edward wasn¡¯t his father, though. They had much in common. That same calculating certainty that they would get want they wanted through sheer force of will. That same icy, confident intensity. It came with power, both magical and political. But Edward had apologised to him, told him everything, and Ben was quite sure Lord Blackthorn would never have done that.


    ¡°I know that,¡± he said, choosing his words carefully. ¡°But ¨C ¡°


    But what? What reason was there to disapprove of this friendship? It could hardly be Edward¡¯s being Malaina, because so was Tallulah. And he didn¡¯t believe Edward was using her. Having someone who cared about her that much, unconditionally, could only be a good thing for his daughter.


    ¡°But it could put her in danger, being his friend. It already has, at least twice.¡±


    Electra nodded. ¡°Yes. I will do everything I can to protect her from that danger, but I can¡¯t promise she¡¯ll be safe. She understands that herself, though, and will not leave him regardless.¡±


    Ben still felt like he was missing something. ¡°So he¡¯s a good friend to her. And the danger isn¡¯t his fault. That still doesn¡¯t make him what¡¯s best for her.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not just friendship,¡± Electra said.


    ¡°If you¡¯re going to tell me my daughter is madly in love with Edward Blackthorn ¨C ¡°


    Electra shook her head sharply. ¡°No. Or not in the sense you¡¯re thinking. At least, I think it¡¯s unlikely. But¡­ tell me. What do you believe about souls?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t see what that has to do with anything,¡± said Ben. He didn¡¯t particularly want to be sidetracked into metaphysical speculation. He hadn¡¯t given the concept of the soul much thought before, though he knew Temple doctrine about it.


    ¡°I believe,¡± Electra said, ¡°that the soul is the core of a person. Their deepest secrets. Hopes, dreams, fears, weaknesses. What makes you who you are. To show that to someone is an act of great trust, and a friendship between people who know each other¡¯s souls is something far deeper.¡±


    Ben was sceptical, even as he knew what she was going to say next.


    ¡°Edward and Tallulah have seen each other¡¯s souls and understood what they have seen. That is why they need each other.¡±

 66. Long Game

    ¡°She¡¯s playing the long game,¡± is Edward¡¯s verdict, once I¡¯ve described Electra¡¯s suspiciously nice behaviour to him, under the strongest privacy wards he¡¯s capable of casting. Though he does point out that they are not strong enough to keep out a sufficiently determined Electra. It¡¯s more the principle of the thing.


    I still don¡¯t entirely understand why casting privacy wards should be a matter of principle, but I don¡¯t object to his doing it. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I ask, though I have a reasonable idea.


    ¡°Being the supportive teacher. Doing us these little illicit favours. A little at a time, until we¡¯re convinced that she¡¯s on our side and trying to help us. And then before we know it, she¡¯s built up a stock of goodwill and blackmail material, so when she just wants one small favour in return¡­¡±


    That sounds suspiciously likely. ¡°It doesn¡¯t work if we know that¡¯s what she¡¯s trying to do, though.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Edward says. ¡°Which is what¡¯s bothering me. Because she knows you¡¯d tell me, and she knows I¡¯d suspect something like this.¡±


    I ignore the implication that I couldn¡¯t figure it out on my own. I am perfectly happy to let Edward be the one who understands these things. ¡°So why would she even try, if she knows it won¡¯t work?¡± I think that¡¯s his point, anyway.


    ¡°Unless she wants us to think she¡¯s playing the long game¡­¡±


    This is giving me a headache, but I nevertheless try to work out why Electra would try to trick us into believing she¡¯s trying to manipulate us. ¡°¡­because it¡¯s actually an immediate trap?¡± I guess. ¡°You¡¯d automatically be suspicious of anything she gave you, because she¡¯s Electra and you¡¯re you. But if you thought it was part of a larger scheme, you might think that it¡¯s safe to use the form to borrow the books when it¡¯s not.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°What does she gain by that, though? We could probably get into quite a bit of trouble for forging a teacher¡¯s signature to access restricted books without permission, but nothing serious enough we couldn¡¯t get out of it again. Not unless the people with power over these things are part of this hypothetical plot, and even then I¡¯d just write to my dad.¡±


    ¡°You could just write to him now, if you really think Electra is part of a conspiracy against you.¡±


    Saying it out loud makes it seem ridiculous, but¡­ she¡¯s Electra, and he¡¯s a Blackthorn.


    He shrugs. ¡°Maybe. If she¡¯s going for short-term damage, though, the best way is to do what Mildred did to you. Even knowing she was trying to bait me, if she took it far enough¡­¡±


    I haven¡¯t seen Edward have any sort of episode for a long time, even during the riot, but if he thinks Electra could push him into one then I trust his judgement on that.


    ¡°Have you considered the possibility this isn¡¯t actually a plot?¡± I ask. ¡°That she¡¯s genuinely trying to be nice to us, because we¡¯ve had a rough time recently and we deserve it?¡±


    Edward shoots me a look which reminds me of the looks I give him whenever he says anything particularly incomprehensible to normal people, and we both suddenly burst out laughing.


    ¡°Seriously, though,¡± I say once we¡¯ve recovered. ¡°I bet if she knew we were having this conversation she¡¯d consider it a victory for her regardless.¡±


    ¡°No bet,¡± Edward says immediately.


    ¡°But what are we going to do?¡±


    ¡°The sensible thing is to burn that form and forget it ever happened.¡±


    ¡°But,¡± I say, recognising the phrasing of that sentence as implying he doesn¡¯t want to do the sensible thing.


    ¡°But¡­ I do want that wardwork book. And I know you want your history of¡­ what was it?¡±


    ¡°The Thalian Crisis of the Year 900,¡± I say. I suppose I should be glad he at least tried to recall it.


    ¡°Electra knows us too well,¡± he mutters. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it. Do you want to talk about the other things that came out of that conversation?¡±


    My mother. Her demands. The prospect of being withdrawn from the Academy.


    Say what you like about the headaches the form gave me, it¡¯s a pretty good distraction from other worries. ¡°In a way, it¡¯s a relief,¡± I find myself saying.


    He raises his eyebrows but says nothing, waiting for me to explain.


    ¡°I¡¯m worried about the future ¨C of course I am ¨C but ¨C before today, I was wondering if we could reconcile. If we should. If I wanted to. If it would be my fault if we couldn¡¯t. And now¡­ well.¡± I smile wryly. ¡°I don¡¯t have to wonder about any of those things. Now we know where we stand.¡±


    He nods. ¡°I can see that. My dad says something similar. It¡¯s refreshing when all the secrets are out and you can move openly, when you know for sure who¡¯s with you and who¡¯s against you.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Edward,¡± I say, ¡°no offence, but when you¡¯re trying to convince me my feelings are normal, comparing me to your dad is maybe not the best approach.¡±


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    To his credit, he does not take offence at that. ¡°Well,¡± he says. ¡°If you need a place to stay. If you need money ¨C I know you don¡¯t want my charity, but ¨C just ask. Those are problems I can actually solve.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. I¡¯m still not sure whether I¡¯ll take him up on that, if it comes to it. I hope that it doesn¡¯t come to it.


    ¡°Well, while we have the wards up¡­ do you mind if we talk about my family drama rather than yours for a bit?¡±


    The way he phrases that stings a little: why can¡¯t either of us just have normal, healthy relationships with our parents? Why do things have to be so complicated?


    ¡°Not at all,¡± I say. ¡°Go ahead.¡±


    ¡°I got a note from my mother this morning, as well.¡±


    ¡°I thought she couldn¡¯t write to you? Wasn¡¯t your dad intercepting her letters?¡±


    He fidgets uncomfortably.


    ¡°Edward, did you search through my mail?¡±


    ¡°¡­maybe.¡±


    I glare at him.


    ¡°Okay, fine, yes, I did. But it was only to see if there was anything from her. I didn¡¯t open anything else or pay any more attention to it than I had to. That doesn¡¯t invade your privacy or anything, right?¡±


    One day, I vow to myself. One day, I will teach Edward what normal people do and don¡¯t consider an invasion of privacy. ¡°It does, kind of. In this instance I don¡¯t have a problem with it, but you really shouldn¡¯t get into the habit of searching through other people¡¯s mail. Also please ask first.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah, may I please have your permission to search through your mail to see if it contains letters to me from my mother?¡±


    Once again I wonder when my life became¡­ this. I sigh. ¡°Yes, you may. Thank you for asking. Anyway. You got a note from your mother this morning¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes. There¡¯s been a work emergency, and she has to go back to Ridgeton. She can¡¯t meet me next week.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± I say, not knowing what else to say.


    ¡°She says she¡¯ll be back in touch as soon as she can, but I¡­ I can¡¯t help wondering if this is just an excuse. If she doesn¡¯t want to see me again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure she does,¡± I say reflexively.


    But Edward doesn¡¯t want empty reassurances. ¡°Do you believe that? Really?¡±


    ¡°I know she loves you,¡± I say. But I also know that that visit must have dragged up a lot of painful memories for Sylvia, memories that she¡¯d rather keep buried. And maybe Edward is just too much his father¡¯s son for her, making too many excuses for him, reminding her of the man she hates too much.


    Maybe she thinks it¡¯s too late for them.


    ¡°I¡¯m being stupid,¡± Edward says. ¡°If she doesn¡¯t want to see me, it¡¯s not like I¡¯ve lost anything.¡±


    I can¡¯t help wincing at that. ¡°You don¡¯t mean that,¡± I say. ¡°She¡¯s not nothing to you. That¡¯s why it hurts, and there is nothing stupid about it.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°A chance, then,¡± he says. ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯ve lost. Is it my fault?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say immediately. ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± The truth, I think, is more complicated: if Sylvia didn¡¯t have an actual work emergency, then she left because of Edward at our last meeting. Because he¡¯s who he is. And is that his fault?


    That is not a question with an easy answer.


    The rest of the day is quiet. Unsettlingly quiet, in fact: I can¡¯t shake the feeling that there¡¯s something important I should be working on, even though there isn¡¯t. I start going over old notes from the first few weeks of classes, hoping that¡¯ll mean I¡¯m less underprepared for the tests when they arrive.


    It surprises me how easy it all seems. I remember struggling over the spells my notes describe for hours, having difficulty with the most basic of conjurations. And now I can cast even the advanced exercises from back then effortlessly.


    At some point in the last few months, I became a magician.


    It¡¯s a good feeling, realising that.


    Maybe I do belong here after all.


    The next morning¡¯s lessons do their best to dent that strange confidence. Because even though I¡¯ve improved so much, it still feels as if I¡¯m barely keeping up. I make no progress on the conjuration of wood, even with Edward¡¯s advice. Organic material is significantly harder to conjure than anything we¡¯ve worked with before, due to the complexity of its structure, but most of the class have still accomplished something by the end of the lesson, unlike me.


    ¡°It¡¯s because you¡¯re Malaina,¡± Edward says as we walk to our next lesson.


    I tense at those words, and it takes me a second to realise that he means that Malaina are not well-suited to the precise, delicate visualisation needed for this work. ¡°You cast it with Malaina, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°It took me fifteen minutes to get it, and that was having cast it with Siaril first.¡± Apparently it¡¯s far easier to learn a spell in one School when you¡¯ve already cast it with another. Yet another reason to be jealous of his having access to two. ¡°Also I¡¯m a Blackthorn,¡± he adds with a grin. ¡°I think you were close, though. You had the physical spellwork close to perfect by the end of the lesson.¡±


    Our next lesson is Countering Magical Effects. After my meeting with Electra yesterday I thought she wouldn¡¯t be too harsh on me, but I should have known better. If anything, she¡¯s tougher than ever. It was the same after my isolation. I think she wants to make sure we don¡¯t get the mistaken idea that she¡¯s actually a decent person somewhere under all the theatrical evil and the twisted tests.


    Still, I make it through the lesson without crying or having a Malaina episode, which means either my self-control and resilience have improved a lot or Electra knows exactly where my limits are and how far she can push me. Probably the latter, knowing her.


    Then it¡¯s Magical Law and Culture: we¡¯re continuing the Malaina debate. I wish I¡¯d found time to do some research for it, to properly prepare my arguments, but it¡¯s too late now.


    I resolved at the end of the last lesson to just get it over with, bring up the big problems. I regret that decision a little now, but not enough to back out of it. I¡¯m the first one to raise my hand at the start of the lesson, and I explain the Instability Law and its consequences. How easy it is for any Malaina to find themselves isolated pending trial. How hard it is to deal with that isolation and not come out more unstable than you went in. How in trying to remove threats to public safety, it could do more to create them.


    There¡¯s a long silence after I say that. Everyone knows I¡¯m speaking from experience.


    ¡°I just wanted to say thank you,¡± Elizabeth says finally. ¡°Someone had to say that. And I¡¯m glad it wasn¡¯t me.¡±


    She has been through something similar to me, I remember, right after Falling. I don¡¯t know the details, and I¡¯m certainly not going to ask, but she understands better than anyone else in this room, even Edward.


    There are arguments in favour of the Instability Law, though. They¡¯re made tentatively, cautiously, with apologies to me and acknowledgement that in my case it wasn¡¯t the best choice. But they¡¯re not entirely wrong.


    Edward points out the potential for abuse of the law. It¡¯s too easy, he says, for someone to bait a Malaina into an episode, and legally the results are entirely the fault of the Malaina, not the person doing the baiting. I know he¡¯s thinking of what Mildred did to me, even though he doesn¡¯t say it in as many words, and is scared it could happen to one of us again.


    I¡¯m a little scared of that myself.


    But the debate goes better than I expected. I feel like I¡¯ve made real progress in helping my classmates understand my magic and its consequences, and that maybe they¡¯ll understand me better too.

 67. Magical Theory

    Over lunch, I remember the other unusual letter I got yesterday morning. The invitation to speak at the conference. I find it while fishing for a quill in my satchel. I probably shouldn¡¯t have completely forgotten about it like I did, but it was somewhat overshadowed by what my mother did.


    I read through it again, and show it to Edward. It¡¯s quite the event that¡¯s happening: a three-day conference for leading experts on Malaina: doctors, researchers, prominent Malaina magicians. It promises discussion of causes and symptoms, presentation of interesting case studies, and the chance to start conversations about anything relating to Malaina and worthy of research.


    ¡°Oh, that,¡± says Edward, seeming less impressed than I expected. ¡°I got one of those, too. I¡¯ve refused already.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I don¡¯t particularly want to be an interesting case study. And it would be a security risk, since there¡¯s so much I can¡¯t talk about. I¡¯m surprised my dad even let the letter make it to me.¡±


    There¡¯s a bitter note in his voice. It¡¯s about his mother, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m not surprised.


    ¡°You have a point,¡± I admit, but I can¡¯t help feeling a little regret.


    Thank you for your kind invitation. Unfortunately¡­ I narrow my eyes and stare down at the paper, trying to work out how to say I don¡¯t particularly want my personal life to be dissected and discussed by a group of strange scientists politely.


    And why I regret turning this down even as I¡¯m writing the letter of refusal. Edward is right, there¡¯s no question about it. I¡¯d be there as a case study or as a way to attract wider attention to the conference. No-one would take me seriously or really listen to me.


    I know a lot more about Malaina than I did before, but most of it I¡¯ve had to work out myself or piece together from isolated tips. I haven¡¯t ever sat down with some other Malaina who¡¯s been living with it for years without becoming a monster, haven¡¯t ever had things properly explained to me.


    And I do want that. Someone to show me that I can do more than just survive one day at a time, that one day I can become more than I am. Perhaps an event like this could be a chance to meet someone like that.


    Even the chance isn¡¯t worth it, though.


    I can¡¯t find Edward that afternoon. We usually meet in the study room half an hour or so after lessons, but he doesn¡¯t appear today. Strange. His routine isn¡¯t as fixed as mine, though; he¡¯s probably off practicing some advanced magic and not in the mood for company, even my company.


    Elsie does appear, though, just as I¡¯m putting the finishing touches to a Magical Theory assignment. ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says. ¡°Can I join you?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± I say, looking up briefly before checking through a couple of lines of algebra. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ve lost any minus signs, but you can never be too sure.


    She sits down opposite me and sighs.


    I glance up again. ¡°Anything wrong?¡±


    ¡°Not in the mood to work,¡± she says.


    Understandable. I miss the days when that was my biggest problem ¨C no. No, I don¡¯t, because I had bigger problems back then as well, I was just hiding from them. ¡°What do you need to do?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Magical Theory,¡± she says. ¡°I hate that stupid algebra. Why do we need to know all of this stuff?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important to understand the theoretical basis behind the magic you use; only then can you truly know why it works and how to modify it to get the best results.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re quoting Edward, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Was it that obvious?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, it was.¡± She pauses, her smile vanishing. ¡°But something like that¡¯s all very well for him. Maybe for you as well. I don¡¯t know. But I¡­ I¡¯m not like you two. I¡¯m never going to be a brilliant magician inventing new spells or whatever ¨C ¡°


    I can¡¯t help bitter laughter at that. ¡°I¡¯m hardly going to be a brilliant magician inventing new spells, either. I do think understanding the theory is helpful, though, even at our level.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand the theory, though,¡± she says, frustrated. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    If Edward were here, he¡¯d probably point out something about her being illogical, how she only thinks it¡¯s pointless because she doesn¡¯t understand it. I¡¯m not Edward, though, and I¡¯m aware that doing that would not be a good idea. ¡°What don¡¯t you understand?¡± I ask instead.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    ¡°All of it?¡±


    I¡¯m reminded suddenly of Ruby, that day under the old tree. How she asked me for help with things she should have been able to work out herself, how it felt like she hadn¡¯t even tried to work it out herself. I don¡¯t feel the same way about Elsie, though, and I¡¯m not quite sure why.


    ¡°That¡¯s hardly true,¡± I say. ¡°Definition of a simple spell operator.¡±


    She closes her eyes and recites the definition from memory, pausing occasionally as she struggles to recall the right phrasing. ¡°But I don¡¯t know why that¡¯s the definition,¡± she says when she¡¯s done. ¡°What¡¯s so special about doing it that particular way?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°You¡¯d have to ask Edward for that one. Or Robin,¡± I add as an afterthought: she¡¯s almost as knowledgeable as Edward and considerably more approachable. ¡°As far as I¡¯m concerned, it¡¯s because that¡¯s the definition that works.¡±


    ¡°Can you teach me?¡± she asks suddenly.


    I blink a few times. ¡°What?¡± I reply, even though it¡¯s clear what she means.


    ¡°Can you teach me magical theory? Please? I¡¯m not going to be ready for the tests on my own at this rate.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m really not the best person to ask. Robin would do it. She knows this far better than I do. Or Edward ¨C you¡¯d be surprised how good a teacher he is, and working with normal people would be good for him ¨C ¡°


    Elsie shakes her head. ¡°No. I want you to teach me, Tallulah. Edward and Robin have grown up with this. They¡¯ve known it for years already; it¡¯s almost second nature for them. They don¡¯t understand how anyone couldn¡¯t understand it. You do.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure that¡¯s quite the compliment she intends it to be, but it is a good point. Despite what I said, I don¡¯t think Edward would be a particularly good teacher for Elsie, and Robin has never seemed particularly interested in teaching anyone. But still: I¡¯m not convinced I understand the material well enough to teach it.


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure that¡¯s what you want, then I guess I could give it a try.¡±


    Elsie grins. ¡°Thank you! When do we start?¡±


    ¡°Right now?¡±


    So we do. It goes a lot better than I was expecting, probably because she¡¯s working through the same assignment I¡¯ve just finished and I can cross-reference with my own work and my notes whenever I¡¯m unsure of myself. Time passes quickly, and we¡¯re both surprised when I glance up at the clock and discover it¡¯s six and five after noon.


    ¡°Break to eat?¡± Elsie says. Her attention has been waning a little for the last while, but we have been working for nearly two hours.


    ¡°Sounds good,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯m hungry.¡±


    Not quite hungry enough to beg the kitchen staff for a bowl of leftover soup, thankfully.


    Robin and Elizabeth are already eating by the time we get our food ¨C fish this evening ¨C and we join them.


    ¡°Sorry we¡¯re late,¡± Elsie says.


    ¡°No worries. Not as if we had an appointment.¡±


    ¡°Have either of you seen Edward recently?¡± I ask.


    ¡°No,¡± says Elizabeth.


    ¡°Not since lessons finished. If anyone knows where he is, it would be you.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, feeling a little foolish, ¡°if you do see him, let him know I was wondering where he was.¡±


    Edward doesn¡¯t appear while we¡¯re eating. That¡¯s definitely concerning: it is not like him to skip meals. I remember how he felt on the morning I had breakfast in bed. When someone deviates significantly from their established routine¡­ that¡¯s a sign that something is wrong.


    If the positions were reversed, he¡¯d definitely be worried about me by now. He¡¯d come looking for me. But I don¡¯t know if this is serious, or if he just wants to be alone. He would have told me, though, if he knew something was wrong. He wouldn¡¯t keep it a secret from me.


    I know for a fact he has a lot of secrets, though. Would he really tell me everything? What if by going after him I¡¯d discover something I wasn¡¯t meant to?


    What if he¡¯s in real trouble, and by not going after him I¡¯m making it worse?


    I can at least look in the usual places. Probably I¡¯ll find him and we can laugh about how his paranoia is infectious together.


    He¡¯s not in the usual places: I check the study rooms, the empty classrooms we haunt on occasion, the gardens. I wouldn¡¯t know if he were shut in a meeting room, they¡¯re designed for complete privacy. I go to the library with the excuse of returning a book and looking for some more, but he¡¯s not there either, even in the hyperspace itself.


    Rosie is on duty, though, so I stop on the way out.


    ¡°Tallulah! How can I help you?¡±


    ¡°Hi, Rosie. I¡¯d like to borrow these ¨C ¡° I slide a small stack of books across the table. ¡°And ¨C ¡°


    I remember the form Electra gave me; it¡¯s still in my satchel. I could have a copy of the True History of the Thalian Crisis of 900 in my hands within minutes. And Rosie is a Blackthorn and a librarian; she¡¯d know if there was something wrong with the form and she¡¯d make sure Edward and I didn¡¯t get into trouble.


    It¡¯s tempting. Very tempting.


    But this isn¡¯t a decision I can make on my own. ¡°Have you seen Edward recently?¡± I ask instead.


    She shrugs. ¡°How recently are we talking?¡±


    ¡°This afternoon.¡±


    ¡°Then no,¡± she says, noting down the titles of my books in her ledger. ¡°Why, are you looking for him?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I¡­ it¡¯s stupid, but I haven¡¯t seen him since lessons ended today, and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I know where he is. He¡¯s fine.¡±


    I feel a surge of relief, but it doesn¡¯t last long. ¡°Where is he?¡±


    ¡°Ask him yourself, tomorrow when he¡¯s back.¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome.¡± She sets down her quill with a flourish. ¡°That¡¯s done for you. Due back in a fortnight as usual.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± I force a smile and gather up the books.


    She would have told me, I think, if there wasn¡¯t anything preventing it. I don¡¯t know her that well, but she must know I can be trusted where Edward is concerned. Which means he doesn¡¯t want me knowing where he is.


    They weren¡¯t talking about magical theory when I interrupted them yesterday morning, were they?


    It¡¯s fine. I can trust Edward. He wouldn¡¯t keep things from me if they were important enough to me, and if he doesn¡¯t want me to know then I have no need to know. I am not going to start prying into his secrets.


    He¡¯s at breakfast the next morning. Usual time, usual place. I smile a little as I slip into my own usual place opposite him. ¡°Morning.¡±


    ¡°Morning,¡± he says. He¡¯s paging through the papers, also as usual.


    ¡°Anything about us?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Not in the front pages. More gossip about the High Princess. They¡¯re saying the baby¡¯s due on the sixth day of the Seedling¡¯s Moon.¡±


    It¡¯s an auspicious day in royal history, that one. At least three future kings were born on that day, including Philippa the Bright. They say that the reign of a king born on the sixth of the Seedling¡¯s Moon will be a new era of prosperity for the Kingdom.


    ¡°Can they really predict it that far out?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Edward says. ¡°Blatant propaganda.¡±


    I laugh. Edward is still himself, then.

 68. New Project

    I consider just not asking where he was yesterday, but in the end curiosity gets the better of me. The question spills out suddenly.


    Am I imagining it, or does he tense a little as I ask it? He shrugs. ¡°I was around. You must have just not looked in the right places.¡±


    ¡°I looked everywhere I could think of,¡± I point out. ¡°And I spoke to Rosie.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± he says.


    ¡°You weren¡¯t just around, were you?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer, which is as good as a confession.


    ¡°I know you can¡¯t tell me everything,¡± I say. ¡°If you don¡¯t want me to know where you were, then that¡¯s fine. Just tell me that. But¡­ please don¡¯t lie to me. How would you have felt, if I¡¯d done that?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different,¡± he protests, and then sighs. ¡°Okay, no. You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s just¡­ when you¡¯ve been keeping secrets so long, it becomes a habit. I¡¯m still not used to having someone I can trust.¡±


    I made the right choice, I realise, not digging any further after speaking to Rosie. Doing that, trying to find out something he didn¡¯t want me to know, would have been a betrayal of that trust. ¡°Don¡¯t do it again,¡± I say, trying to stay firm and make it clear that this is important.


    ¡°I won¡¯t. It wasn¡¯t anything secret. Well, it was, sort of, but¡­ personal secrets, not state secrets.¡±


    ¡°Or both?¡± I add, half-joking.


    ¡°Not both. I¡­ I should have just told you before. I didn¡¯t want you to think¡­ meeting room, after this?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°This would be so much better,¡± Edward says, chalking out a ward-circle on the floor, ¡°if I had that book. There¡¯s not much more progress I can make on my own, I don¡¯t think. Not without taking months longer than it would otherwise.¡±


    ¡°Just ask your dad for it,¡± I say. No matter how much I want the True History, I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s worth the risk of taking Electra¡¯s bait. And Lord Blackthorn would give the ward book to his son without hesitation if asked in the right way.


    Edward hesitates, though. ¡°I don¡¯t ¨C ¡° he begins haltingly.


    I think I know how that sentence ends. I don¡¯t want to just ask him for everything.


    I don¡¯t think the Edward I first met would have hesitated like that. But everything that¡¯s happened since ¨C his mother¡¯s brief return, the way Lord Blackthorn handled my isolation ¨C has damaged Edward¡¯s trust of his father.


    It¡¯s probably a good thing, overall, not to have blind faith in the Black Raven. It doesn¡¯t feel good to see him hesitate like that, though.


    I don¡¯t make him spell it out; I just let the silence linger until he presses one hand to the circle that completes the ward and then looks up, smiling a little.


    ¡°That¡¯s done, then,¡± he says. ¡°I visited my grandmother yesterday.¡±


    ¡°Oh. To talk about ¨C ¡°


    ¡°My mother, yes. It¡¯s not as relevant as it was, but I arranged to meet her before knowing Mother wasn¡¯t coming back, so¡­¡± He shrugs again.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand why you didn¡¯t tell me that, though.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°You remember I told her she would have very vocal opinions about the type of Blackthorn she wants me to be?¡±


    I nod. I think I know what¡¯s coming.


    ¡°Well. That type of Blackthorn is not the type who has you for a friend.¡±


    Yup. Thought so. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she approve of me, then?¡±


    ¡°Oh, she has nothing against you personally. It¡¯s just that no-one who isn¡¯t minor aristocracy or at the very least extremely rich has any business associating with me, as far as she¡¯s concerned.¡±


    I laugh bitterly. ¡°A proper Genford girl, then.¡±


    The irony is that if I¡¯d been that proper Genford girl with parents rich enough to afford the full fees, if I¡¯d belonged at Genford, I would never have been the sort of person who could have a close friendship with Edward Blackthorn.


    ¡°I suppose so, yes. But anyway ¨C given that, I wouldn¡¯t be able to get the information I wanted if I took you with me. And if I didn¡¯t ¨C ¡° He pauses, looking for the right words. ¡°I didn¡¯t want you to think I was hiding you. That I was ashamed of you. Because I¡¯m not, but ¨C you haven¡¯t hidden me, not in the same way.¡±


    The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I frown, considering his words. In some ways it¡¯s enough that he had a reason, that he wasn¡¯t just hiding things from me for concealment¡¯s sake, that he does trust me. But in other ways¡­ ¡°I would have understood,¡± I say. ¡°That that wasn¡¯t what you were doing, not inviting me. That it was only for practical reasons.¡±


    Maybe it would have stung a little, but I¡¯ve dealt with far worse. And it definitely wouldn¡¯t have stung as much as his lying to me, whatever his intentions. ¡°You should have told me.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± he says. ¡°I will, next time. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    And when he says that so openly, so easily, I can¡¯t help but forgive him. Whatever his questionable decisions, he¡¯s trying. That¡¯s what matters.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Anyway, did you at least get what you wanted in between listening to her criticise your life choices?¡± It¡¯s strange, realising how pragmatically he thought of this conversation with his grandmother. Then again, I can¡¯t really talk, given how my last conversation with my mother went.


    ¡°She was very helpful, actually. She thinks she can influence me now, and she¡¯s prepared to give me quite a lot in exchange.¡±


    I hope the Dowager Lady Annabelle didn¡¯t think of it in terms quite that direct, but he probably has a point. I wait for him to go on.


    ¡°He never loved her,¡± he says simply. ¡°Marriage ¨C producing an heir ¨C it was part of the arrangement between my father and grandfather, after my uncle ¨C Arthur, who was supposed to inherit ¨C died. They¡¯d barely been on speaking terms until then, but both of them cared enough about keeping the family alive to negotiate.¡± His face twists into something bitter as he forces out the next sentence: ¡°She didn¡¯t say it explicitly, but I¡¯m pretty sure my mother being a sensitive was a part of what sealed the bargain.¡±


    That doesn¡¯t altogether surprise me. It¡¯s hurt Edward, though, I can tell: no-one wants to hear things like that about their parents. Even if he¡¯s too used to seeing the world in those transactional terms, knowing that your own birth was just another transaction can¡¯t be easy.


    ¡°My mother was a romantic,¡± he continues. ¡°She thought that even if he didn¡¯t love her at first, that would change as they learnt to live together. A lot of people thought that ¨C it¡¯s what happens with many arranged marriages.¡±


    ¡°But not this one.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Edward agrees sadly. ¡°Not this one. My grandmother was surprised it lasted as long as it did. It was because of me, she thinks. Both of them were devoted to me.¡±


    I¡¯m not surprised. It must be good for Edward to have heard that, at least. I¡¯m glad he got that much from the meeting.


    I have to agree with Edward¡¯s grandmother about the marriage, though. The story has an air of inevitable tragedy to it. But is tragedy ever truly inevitable? In the old tragic myths, it¡¯s always the hero¡¯s own fatal flaw that¡¯s their downfall: the most tragic part is that if they¡¯d just been able to change, to understand their mistakes and resolve to do better, it all could have been avoided.


    In the myths, change is impossible: a character¡¯s nature is set, the ending is fixed before the story begins. Real life isn¡¯t like that, though.


    Then again, I¡¯m not sure Lord Blackthorn really changing is any more realistic than a mythical tragic hero changing.


    The story of Edward¡¯s parents is not over, though.


    ¡°Of course they were,¡± I say, bringing myself back to reality. ¡°They still are.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough,¡± says Edward.


    He¡¯s right; it wasn¡¯t. But I don¡¯t think anything could have been enough.


    Lessons go better that day. Felicity is her usual self, but without Mildred in her class the tension is perfectly bearable. And Edward turns out to have been right about the conjuration of wood: I manage it within ten minutes of the new lesson starting. He doesn¡¯t even say he told me so, which is a minor miracle on its own.


    I spend most of my time working on the latest Magical Law and Culture essay. It¡¯s certainly an interesting one: Discuss a change you would make to Malaina law. Explain why you believe this change is needed and why your new law would be an improvement.


    The point he¡¯s trying to make with it, I realise after only a few minutes spent planning, is that it¡¯s very easy to look at the existing law and say it has flaws. A lot of the time you¡¯d be right to say that.


    But making something better? That is not so easy.


    I know I want to talk about the big problems, too. The Instability Law and its consequences. I¡¯m taking the hard way through the assignment, but that¡¯s not the point. The point is to prove to myself that there is a better way to do things. That what I went through in isolation is not justified.


    It isn¡¯t easy. I start by writing down a list of what I want the new law to achieve: it has to distinguish between stable and unstable Malaina, and avoid unnecessary suffering inflicted on the former while making sure the latter don¡¯t cause harm.


    And that needs research, a lot more than I¡¯ve carried out thus far, because I don¡¯t know where that dividing line should be drawn. I don¡¯t know if there even is a line that can be drawn, rather than a murky grey area in the middle ¨C and dealing with murky grey areas in law is infamously dangerous ground.


    Maybe I should have accepted the invitation to that conference. People there will have actually carried out this research, will know the answers to the questions I¡¯m asking.


    The Academy library isn¡¯t much help, for once. It holds the most up-to-date books and journals in all areas of magical research ¨C it would have to, since it serves a centre of magical research itself ¨C but Malaina isn¡¯t studied in the same way as most magic.


    I think because it¡¯s so much more complicated, in a way. Because it¡¯s so dependent on the individual and their circumstances, on things that can¡¯t be objectively measured and controlled like tweaking the way a spell is cast can.


    Either way, though, the only relevant thing I can find that isn¡¯t at least a century out of date is a journal article discussing the correlation between changes in the magical signatures of Malaina and their stability. Like the measurements Doctor Wandsworth tried to take for me.


    That reminds me suddenly that I¡¯ve missed my chance to get answers from Edward¡¯s mother, if she¡¯s really not coming back. I don¡¯t know when I¡¯ll get another opportunity like that; I should have just asked her when we met.


    Well, not much I can do about that now. I settle for asking Rosie where else I can look for research on Malaina. She recommends the City Library: it¡¯s required to stock copies of every book and scientific journal published in the Kingdom. There¡¯s quite a bit of bureaucracy involved in getting permission to access its collection, but mentioning I¡¯m acquainted with Lord Blackthorn should speed the process along.


    I don¡¯t particularly want to do that unless I have to. It seems as if getting access will be my next project, then. I am probably not going to have this essay done before the deadline if I want to do a proper job of it. Maybe I could ask Sam to give me longer. I think he would, for something like this.


    I ask him in that afternoon¡¯s lesson, and it turns out I was right. ¡°I know this is important to you,¡± he says, ¡°and I¡¯m fine with giving you time to produce your best work. But don¡¯t let it take priority over work for your other classes or revision, okay?¡±


    I thank him and promise I won¡¯t.

 69. Father and Daughter

    I invite Elsie to visit the City Library with me the next afternoon, which will be a quiet one due to Astronomy taking place in the evening. Ideally I want the research materials by the end of the day so I can have the whole weekend to work through them and filter out the information I need.


    I want company for this expedition, though, and I know Elsie appreciates libraries almost as much as I do. She¡¯s a little intimidated at the lengths I¡¯m going to for this essay.


    ¡°Now I feel bad,¡± she says, ¡°I¡¯ve written half my essay already and I only referenced a couple of the case studies Sam mentioned and what people said in the debate.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I reply. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ doing significantly more than what¡¯s required. That doesn¡¯t mean I, or Sam, expect anyone else to.¡±


    I¡¯m doing enough for this project, in fact, that Edward pulls me aside between lessons the next morning to check that I¡¯m okay.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s just that¡­ this is important to me.¡±


    ¡°I know. I just can¡¯t help remembering your Cavendish project, and what you did to yourself with that. And I don¡¯t want that to happen again.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°It won¡¯t. This isn¡¯t the same thing. And I¡¯ve changed since then.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Fine. I trust you. Just¡­ remember to eat, okay?¡±


    In my defence, I do try to get lunch after jotting down some notes and speculation during our free period that morning. It¡¯s not my fault I¡¯m intercepted halfway to the dining hall by a flying note informing me that Electra wants to see me in her office at once.


    Well, that¡¯s definitely not ominous at all. I force myself to empty my mind and focus on breathing as I turn and climb the stairs once more.


    It¡¯s clear why she asked for me as soon as she lets me into her office. She¡¯s not alone: I have a visitor. My dad, standing on the floor in the centre of the office.


    Our eyes meet, and we both hesitate. I¡¯m glad to see him, of course I am, but he¡¯ll want to talk about what¡¯s happening with my mother. And I don¡¯t know if I do. I wasn¡¯t ready for a conversation like this.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says. His voice is filled with emotion I can¡¯t quite read. Now I take a second to look at him, I realise how tired he looks. When did he last sleep? This can¡¯t be any easier for him than it is for me. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know about the letter.¡±


    Oh, I realise. This must be Electra¡¯s way of helping. ¡°Electra told you the situation, then?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says simply.


    It¡¯s awful, this distance between us. We used to be close. There was a time when he would have unhesitatingly reached out and hugged me, when we would have dealt with this together, when I could rely on him. I miss that time, now more than ever.


    I could just close the gap between us, wrap my arms around him, pretend that nothing has changed. Except I can¡¯t. Not without knowing he¡¯s not going to have me withdrawn from the Academy. ¡°And,¡± I make myself ask, ¡°what are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°Your mother¡¯s demands are absurd,¡± he says. ¡°Obviously so. Half of them are outright illegal. I never would have let her send them, if I¡¯d known.¡±


    It helps a little, hearing him say those words rather than trying to make excuses for her. But it¡¯s not an answer to my question.


    He can¡¯t be seriously considering withdrawing me from the Academy. He can¡¯t ¨C


    I feel my breath catch, my heart beating faster, that faint feeling that what¡¯s happening isn¡¯t real and it can¡¯t hurt me. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard.


    A distant, abstract part of me, one not caught up in the episode or trying to calm its flow, notes that if I¡¯m having an episode at the mere suggestion of it, actually leaving the Academy might well break me.


    Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.


    ¡°Being here at the Academy has been good for you,¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯ve grown up. You¡¯re ¨C ¡° his voice chokes a little ¨C ¡°you¡¯re becoming a woman I¡¯d be so proud to call my daughter.¡±


    Timothy the Peacemaker. Maria the Seafarer. Keep breathing, Tallulah. In, out, in, out, one breath at a time. I can do this.


    ¡°But at the same time¡­ you¡¯re still so young. You¡¯re having to face problems most adults would struggle to face. And that¡¯s not going to change, if you stay here. I ¨C ¡° his voice breaks again. ¡°I want to keep you safe, Tallulah.¡±


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    Then you shouldn¡¯t have let me Fall. The sudden surge of anger surprises me, and the control I was just beginning to regain slips. Richard Blackbeard. I focus on the feeling of my clothes brushing my skin. This is real; this is where I am.


    ¡°I¡¯ve failed you,¡± he says, and the sudden raw honesty of it startles me enough that I can think clearly again.


    I open my mouth to tell him that he hasn¡¯t, and can¡¯t find the words.


    ¡°Twice over,¡± he adds. ¡°First by not noticing what was happening ¨C not noticing you were Falling ¨C until it was far too late. And again now, never properly talking to Louise about all this, not being there when the papers found out about the riot ¨C ¡°


    Is he crying? Stars, tell me he¡¯s not crying. I don¡¯t know how to deal with seeing my father cry because he¡¯s failed me. I take a hesitant step closer.


    ¡°But I still love you, Tallulah. I want you to be safe, and I want you to be happy.¡±


    And in his mind ¨C and, if I¡¯m brutally honest, in reality too ¨C those two things can¡¯t coexist now that I¡¯ve made the choices I have.


    ¡°What do I do?¡± he asks. I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s even talking to me any more. He¡¯s not looking at me; his red-rimmed eyes are focused on the empty space behind me. ¡°Stars, Tallulah, what do I do?¡±


    I can¡¯t be angry with him, not now I¡¯m seeing him like this. He¡¯s failed me, true, he¡¯s made mistakes. But I¡¯ve made more than a few mistakes myself; if I can forgive myself, surely I can forgive him as well? He¡¯s trying. He came here to talk to me. He loves me.


    I take another step forwards. ¡°We,¡± I say. ¡°What do we do?¡±


    And then I¡¯ve closed the gap and we¡¯re hugging, only it¡¯s not like it used to be because he needs my comfort as much as I need his. We cling to each other desperately, as if hoping that we can fix all our problems just by not letting go. I¡¯m close to crying myself, I realise: there¡¯s a lump in my throat, my eyes are stinging.


    Eventually, after what could have been a minute or an hour, we pull apart.


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± he says. ¡°I can¡¯t make this choice for you. Not any more. And you want to stay, don¡¯t you?¡±


    I nod. ¡°I¡¯m happy here. It¡¯s been hard, but ¨C worth it. Always worth it. I have friends here. I belong here. I don¡¯t think I could find that anywhere else, not now.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re sure ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I am.¡±


    ¡°Then I¡¯ll make sure you can stay.¡±


    ¡°Even if ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Even if Louise tries to have you withdrawn. I swear it by sacred starlight, by the light that guides me at night, by all that is holy.¡±


    I blink. ¡°You didn¡¯t need to do that,¡± I say. ¡°I would have trusted you without it.¡±


    It means a lot, though, that he¡¯s willing to swear an oath by starlight. He¡¯s not going to change his mind now, no matter what my mother says or does.


    I won¡¯t have to leave the Academy.


    It should be a victory. It doesn¡¯t feel like one.


    Because we both look so defeated. And because this conversation isn¡¯t over.


    ¡°We need to talk about my mother,¡± I make myself say, however much I don¡¯t want to talk about my mother.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, sounding as enthusiastic as I feel about the prospect. ¡°We do.¡±


    ¡°Have you¡­ spoken to her, since finding out about all of this?¡±


    He nods. ¡°It was¡­ we argued. Bitterly. Both of us said things we regretted.¡±


    I doubt my mother regrets whatever she said to him. I think that woman could justify anything to herself if she wanted to. ¡°You didn¡¯t change her mind about anything?¡± I ask, knowing the answer but hoping anyway.


    He shakes his head. ¡°You know how she gets sometimes. And it¡¯s been worse since all this started. She took it very hard, and she¡¯s under a lot of stress ¨C ¡°


    ¡°So am I,¡± I snap. ¡°So are you. It¡¯s not an excuse.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡° he says haltingly. ¡°She¡¯s still your mother. She still loves you. She¡¯s just struggling to accept that you¡¯re changing and growing up and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And that what I want for myself isn¡¯t what she wants for me?¡±


    ¡°Please, Tallulah. I love her just as much as I love you. Don¡¯t make me choose between you.¡±


    Was it really only a week or two ago that I was the one in his position, desperately wishing my mother wouldn¡¯t frame what I did as making a choice between her and Edward? Now it seems so different.


    I understand how he¡¯s feeling, I really do, but between her letter and my response I¡¯ve realised I¡¯m never going to be reconciled with my mother. ¡°Don¡¯t make me pretend to forgive her,¡± I reply.


    He flinches as if I¡¯ve struck him. In a way, I have, and I hate myself a little for it. But it has to be done. ¡°Then there¡¯s no prospect of really forgiving her?¡±


    I consider it for a moment. My instinctive reaction is that there isn¡¯t, but I can¡¯t quite bring myself to say that. Maybe I just want to spare his feelings, or maybe some part of me hasn¡¯t quite given up hope. ¡°Not unless she apologises,¡± I say. ¡°For everything she wrote in that letter. For trying to have me withdrawn from the Academy. For not listening to me.¡±


    It¡¯s not an unreasonable request. But I think, deep down, we both know that my mother would never accept it.


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° he says. ¡°I suppose that¡¯s fair. Yes. I¡¯ll talk to her. Try to persuade her. You need a mother still, Tallulah. You need a home.¡±


    This is about Holy Days, isn¡¯t it? ¡°Edward has invited me to stay with him in the holidays, for as long as I like.¡±


    He tenses. ¡°I don¡¯t want you living with ¨C with the Black Raven.¡±


    ¡°Then give me a better option,¡± I say. ¡°Please.¡±


    Because I know now that I would rather live with Lord Blackthorn than with my own mother.


    And maybe that¡¯s partly my own fault for everything I¡¯ve done, everything that¡¯s happened to me, that¡¯s driven us to this point. But it is also her fault for everything she¡¯s done to push me away and try to control me.


    ¡°I will,¡± he says, ¡°I promise.¡±


    I wish I could believe him.


    He leaves not long after that; neither of us are in the mood for small talk, and he has clients to meet with and I have lessons. He tells me just before he goes that he loves me and he¡¯s proud of me and he misses me.


    I tell him that I love him and I miss him, too. It is true.


    And then I¡¯m alone with Electra in her office once more. I¡¯d forgotten she was there while I was talking to my dad. For someone so conspicuous, she has a strange knack of fading into the background when she wants to. But she was listening; she heard everything we said to each other.


    I resolve in that moment to use the form for the restricted books. She doesn¡¯t need that to hurt me or place me in her debt, not with everything she¡¯s already done.


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Electra says. ¡°You are growing up.¡±


    I find when I leave the room that I¡¯m shaking and exhausted. I don¡¯t quite know why, but all I want to do is collapse on my bed and not move until I have to. So that¡¯s what I do.

 70. City Library

    ¡°You weren¡¯t at lunch,¡± says Edward accusingly as I drag myself into class a little while later.


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t because of the essay,¡± I say. ¡°My dad visited. I¡¯ll get something in the City this afternoon.¡±


    I¡¯m later than normal, so that¡¯s the only snatch of conversation we can have before Humphrey calls us to order and starts explaining the enchantment we¡¯ll be working on today.


    I keep my head down and work quietly. I have been finding Enchantments a lot easier recently; much though I hate to admit it, it¡¯s probably Edward¡¯s advanced lessons. They¡¯re not directly relevant to what we¡¯re covering today (enchantments to produce motion) but just the knowledge that I¡¯ve cast enchantments far harder than this gives me the confidence to manage this as well.


    Elsie and I set out straight from class. She¡¯s already eaten, but doesn¡¯t mind me grabbing something from a market stall on the way. I settle for a meat pastry, cheap but not suspiciously so and a lot nicer than I was expecting.


    The City Library isn¡¯t particularly central; it¡¯s a good couple of miles¡¯ walk from the Academy. That inevitably leads to much complaining about how long it¡¯ll be until we can learn to teleport.


    ¡°The magic isn¡¯t even that hard,¡± Elsie moans as we move aside to let a group of businessmen pass.


    ¡°No, but it¡¯s dangerous,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re travelling through un-stabilised hyperspace; that¡¯s not something that¡¯ll end well if you make a mistake.¡± Edward has told me a few horror stories. And not learning to teleport until he¡¯s a qualified magician is one of the few rules his father has set him.


    Her response is lost as a large carriage rolls noisily past. It¡¯s in a hurry, its driver forcing the horses to go ever faster, heading towards the Inner Ring. I try to catch a glimpse inside, but the glass is enchanted and reveals nothing.


    For all our complaints about the walk, it does me good to get out of the Academy and stretch my legs. This is by far the most walking I¡¯ve done since the riot, and while my ankle is beginning to ache a little by the end of it I don¡¯t struggle to keep up with Elsie¡¯s pace once.


    The City Library is grand enough I would probably have been intimidated by the mere sight of it if I wasn¡¯t living in a literal palace. Tall columns of white stone, ornately carved; a roof easily twenty or thirty feet above our heads; a huge wooden door hanging open.


    ¡°Well?¡± Elsie asks me once we¡¯ve taken a few seconds to take in the view. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    There¡¯s a queue of people passing through the door, with the look of academics: neatly but plainly dressed, many of them wearing spectacles or clutching satchels that must be filled with books and papers. It¡¯s a diverse group in most respects, but everyone in it must be at least ten years older than us.


    And here I am wanting to join them to research a high school essay. Stars, why did I decide this was a good idea? I¡¯m glad I brought Elsie; if she wasn¡¯t there I think I would have turned around and left. But she is, so we join the back of the queue together. We get some curious looks from the academics around us, but they don¡¯t seem hostile.


    The queue moves forwards quicker than I expected; either most of the academics have simple requests or whoever¡¯s dealing with them is extremely efficient. I¡¯m glad we don¡¯t have to wait too long, so I don¡¯t have enough time to question the decision to come here.


    We shuffle forwards, and are indoors within a couple of minutes. The Library is just as grand on the inside: though the ceiling is low it¡¯s painted with scenes from myth. The floor is marble and the walls are hung with tapestries and portraits of kings. I stare up at a mosaic depicting the legendary Elara departing on her last voyage for long enough that the person behind me tuts impatiently and I scurry forward a few steps, muttering an apology.


    It seems as if I was right about the simple requests. Nearly everyone in the queue just flashes the woman behind the desk we¡¯re queuing towards a piece of paper and then enters the Library proper through the door just behind the desk and to its left. We move at a slow walk, pausing for the occasional more complex request.


    Until, too soon, the old woman in front of us is waved in and it¡¯s our turn.


    ¡°Hello,¡± the receptionist says, her tone a little unfriendly. Maybe she thinks we¡¯re here for a prank. ¡°How can I help you?¡±


    I look at Elsie. Elsie looks at me.


    ¡°Um,¡± I say. ¡°Hi. I¡¯d ¨C we¡¯d ¨C like to view your collection of Malaina research. It¡¯s for an academic project. We¡¯re with the Royal Academy of Magical Arts. I¡¯m told that¡¯s one of your recognised partner institutions?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± says the woman, a blank, bored expression on her face. ¡°But we do require a statement from a teacher or researcher at the partner institution about the purpose of your research. Do you have that? And can I take your names?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah Roberts.¡±


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Elsie Morris.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t ¨C exactly have that, but I have the essay title we were assigned, if that¡¯s ¨C ¡°


    I stop, seeing the look on the woman¡¯s face. She¡¯s staring at me, mouth hanging open. It makes me feel a little uncomfortable.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she says, ¡°did you just say you were Tallulah Roberts?¡±


    Oh. Right. That. ¡°Yes. I did.¡±


    ¡°As in¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    She stares at me a second longer and then asks ¡°What did he do to you?¡±


    So that¡¯s her favoured rumour, then. There are definitely worse ones out there, but I¡¯m still not a fan of this one. ¡°If by he you mean Lord Blackthorn, then nothing. It¡¯s just as I said in the responses to questions I gave.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Those can¡¯t be trusted. Of course he told you what to say in them. I know you have no reason to trust me, either, but if there¡¯s anything I can do to help you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I say with more force than I intended. ¡°No. I¡¯m fine. Lord Blackthorn hasn¡¯t hurt me, I don¡¯t need to escape from him. And those responses were entirely my own work.¡±


    I¡¯m suddenly glad of all the pain that was putting them together while still keeping up with schoolwork and dealing with my mother and everything else. It was worth it, if only so I can truthfully say that here and now.


    I can tell she doesn¡¯t believe me, though: she¡¯s constructed a nice story for herself about the poor innocent girl drawn into the Black Raven¡¯s plots, and she¡¯s not going to let little things like reality get in the way of it. ¡°If you really want to help me,¡± I say, ¡°then please let us into the Library.¡±


    She stares blankly at me for another moment, then says ¡°Yes. Yes, of course. I¡¯m so sorry,¡± and starts scribbling something on a scrap of paper. A moment later she hands it to me: it¡¯s exactly what I wanted. A form authorising my companion and I to enter the Library and view all of its records pertaining to Malaina research.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, meaning it. Even if she¡¯s doing it for the wrong reasons, it does still save a lot of time and pain to have this now.


    ¡°She didn¡¯t even remember my name,¡± Elsie complains quietly as we climb the stairs to the fourth floor, where the material we¡¯re looking for can apparently be found.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind my name being a little less memorable,¡± I reply in an equally hushed tone.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Elsie says immediately.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°I just¡­¡± she sighs. ¡°Never mind.¡±


    I¡¯m about to ask her to go on anyway when we reach the fourth floor, step into the library proper and are awed into silence.


    The room is maybe sixty feet long, and packed wall to wall with bookcases stretching up to the ceiling. And every single one of them is filled with hundreds of books and journals.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Elsie, grinning, ¡°where do we start?¡±


    It takes us nearly an hour in the end just to find a collection of relevant material. I probably should have researched what I wanted to research before starting this expedition; we end up having to page through decades¡¯ worth of proceedings of various scientific organisations, skim the introductions to dozens of books (without getting sucked into reading them in depth, which is the most challenging part of all), clamber on the stools provided to reach the top shelves.


    But eventually we¡¯ve narrowed it down to a stack about Elsie¡¯s height. At which point we realise that we have to carry it all to a reading room. I split it into two equally-sized piles and stare at the closer of the two for a few seconds before realising I¡¯m not going to be able to lift it all at once.


    ¡°We¡¯re magicians, stars,¡± Elsie says. ¡°We should just be able to levitate the whole pile.¡±


    ¡°Edward probably could,¡± I agree. ¡°Maybe we can manage at least some. Enough that we can carry the rest.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s either that or taking two trips,¡± Elsie agrees. ¡°But I don¡¯t want to lose focus and end up spilling books all over the staircase.¡±


    ¡°Me neither. Worth a try, though?¡±


    ¡°I will if you will.¡±


    Well. I am a better magician than I think, if Edward is to be believed. I can manage a few books, can¡¯t I?


    I take the top six or seven off my stack and set them to one side. With that done I can lift the rest the mundane way with only a little difficulty.


    The remainder is one book, An Investigation of the Malaina Condition in Six Cases, and a collection of journals. They¡¯re smaller, less likely to fall if I mess this up. I set down the main stack and cast a levitation spell on the Investigation.


    It works. I hover the smaller stack at about waist height for a little while. The tricky part is that I¡¯m relying on my hands as a focus for controlling the spell, and I am not going to have free hands if I¡¯m using both of them to carry the main stack.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ignoring that doubt. ¡°Your turn.¡±


    Elsie sighs. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have agreed to this, should I?¡±


    We make it, eventually, in a single trip and without spilling books everywhere ¨C though I do nearly run into an old man because the books block my view of him walking towards me. ¡°Now we can actually get to work,¡± I say, grinning.


    ¡°I am never letting you talk me into an expedition like this again,¡± Elsie replies, but she¡¯s smiling too.


    It takes us a little while to find an effective system, but we fall into an amicable and efficient rhythm of noting down the key ideas from our pile. The results verify the statistics Edward presented during the debate, more or less, but I¡¯m more interested in an analysis that was carried out by a pair of researchers about a decade ago.


    The premise was simple: examine the data that the government collects on all Malaina and look for patterns. The paper reproduces a lot of the raw data they used, including a table categorising the most common causes of Falling. Parental abuse is the most common, with about a third of cases falling into that group.


    Most of the other categories are about what I would have expected: extreme poverty. Natural disasters. Abuse by other adults. Grief and loss. Frequent violent incidents. Isolated incidents of extreme violence or violence directed towards the Fallen. Unsafe or exploitative working environments.


    And, making up about three percent of cases: other.


    I guess that would be how I¡¯m classified, according to this. I wish there was more detail there. How many people are behind that label and number? Are any of them like me, Fallen despite the absence of real trauma?


    How many of them are mala sia?


    I¡¯m sucked into the world of Malaina research before I know it, and it seems like it¡¯s only been a few minutes when a library attendant knocks on the door of the reading room to inform us that we only have fifteen minutes before the Library is closed for independent researchers, but we¡¯re welcome to set books we want to return to aside and they will be left here for when we return.


    Elsie and I quickly sort through the pile to work out what we¡¯ve finished with and what we haven¡¯t. We haven¡¯t even made it halfway through, and I¡¯ve nearly run out of paper to take notes on already. I¡¯ll have to buy more this weekend if I want to have enough to last me another week¡¯s lessons.

 71. Purpose

    It¡¯s already starting to get dark when we leave. It¡¯s been a while since I went out in the afternoon, and it surprises me how quickly the light has faded. I¡¯ve been spoilt by enchanted lights everywhere.


    I¡¯m easily startled on the way back, jumping at the sound of a horse¡¯s hooves and checking behind to see if we¡¯re being followed. It¡¯s more than just the usual worries of two girls out alone in the dark, I think. After dealing with a mob of people perfectly willing to kill me for my choice in friends, and being recognised by the library receptionist earlier, it¡¯s easy to convince myself it¡¯s not safe for me to walk the City streets.


    I don¡¯t like that idea, though. I might spend most of my time in the Academy, but the thought of never leaving it, of always being trapped within its wards and walls, is suffocating. There are far worse places to be trapped, but trapped I¡¯d be nonetheless.


    Whenever I read about a princess escaping from her palace home to go on an adventure in copper-tales, I used to scoff at her stupidity and be convinced she deserved whatever danger she inevitably ran into. I understand their motivations a little better now, though.


    Despite how on edge I am, we make it back safely, and if anyone recognises me along the way they don¡¯t show it. That doesn¡¯t stop Edward from appearing as soon as we step into the building, pretending that he just happened to be passing by. I know him well enough to be confident that¡¯s not true.


    I throw myself into planning and writing the essay over the weekend. It¡¯ll be a while before I can make it back to the Library: it¡¯s not open to those with my level of access on weekends, and finding enough time to walk there and back without skipping lessons will be a challenge. No wonder there¡¯s a separate class for those with other commitments besides their studies.


    I can make do with what I have so far for the essay. There¡¯s plenty to work with, after all: I have studies I can cite as evidence and use to back up my arguments, knowledge of the existing law and its flaws, my personal experiences. Maybe I should interview Elizabeth about her own experiences of isolation and get her thoughts on my proposal. I want it to be something that other Malaina can really support.


    I do find time to pay another visit to the Academy¡¯s library to borrow a particular pair of books. I make sure to go when Rosie is on duty, since she¡¯ll be willing to act as a witness in my favour if this is an immediate trap. I don¡¯t tell Edward; part of that is the petty result of his not telling me about his grandmother, but a larger part is the fact that if I¡¯m the one who was given the form and I¡¯m the one who takes out the books, there¡¯s no evidence whatsoever that he was involved.


    If something does go wrong, I¡¯m the only one who will have to deal with the consequences.


    Nothing does, though, at least not immediately. I hand Rosie the form and she gives me a curious glance but ventures into hyperspace to fetch the two books from the restricted section. ¡°You¡¯re not to leave these out in public where anyone can see them,¡± she says, ¡°and you¡¯re not to allow anyone else to read them. That clear?¡±


    The glimmer in her eye suggests she knows quite well that I will be handing the ward book to Edward as soon as I get the chance, but that she¡¯ll keep up the pretence if I do.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Clear. Thank you.¡±


    Edward has something for me as well, he informs me over lunch: the detection kit he asked his dad for has arrived, so it¡¯s time to carry on with our lessons in advanced enchantments.


    ¡°Now?¡± I ask. ¡°It¡¯s just that I was in the middle of ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Writing your essay,¡± he interrupts. ¡°You can¡¯t spend your every waking hour working on that, Tallulah. The break will do you good.¡±


    I don¡¯t feel like I need a break from the essay. This isn¡¯t like the Cavendish project, as I told him earlier. There are no stakes other than better understanding Malaina and feeling like I¡¯ve really achieved the best I¡¯m capable of when I¡¯m done. The enchantment lessons can wait for some other time.


    He¡¯s not going to let it go that easily, though. Not without a suitable distraction.


    Fortunately, I have one at hand. Once we¡¯ve claimed an empty study room for the afternoon¡¯s work, I present Edward with the book before he has a chance to get started on enchantments.


    He stares at me for a moment. ¡°You used Electra¡¯s pass.¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Without telling me.¡±


    ¡°Plausible deniability,¡± I say.


    He glares at me for a second. ¡°That¡¯s ¨C wait, never mind. This is how you¡¯ve felt every time I¡¯ve kept stuff from you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    ¡°Probably, yes. But it¡¯s fine. Nothing¡¯s gone wrong. Not yet. And nothing is going to go wrong. You were right earlier; if Electra wanted to hurt us, there are far easier ways.¡±


    ¡°Dammit, Tallulah, I¡¯m supposed to be the one hiding things and taking risks to protect you, not the other way round.¡± He¡¯s not really angry with me, though, or even that annoyed. I saw the gleam in his eye when he first caught sight of that book.


    ¡°We¡¯re partners, remember? We both take risks for each other.¡±


    He sighs exaggeratedly. ¡°Stars help me. And you gave it to me now so that I¡¯ll want to get straight to studying it rather than teach you enchantments and I¡¯ll let you get on with your essay, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± I say, grinning unrepentantly. ¡°Did it work?¡±


    ¡°This is divine justice, isn¡¯t it?¡± Edward asks wryly. ¡°I have corrupted you and now I have to live with the consequences. Fine. You win. Go write your stupid essay.¡±


    I barely keep the triumph off my face as I make my escape.


    Elizabeth is reluctant to be interviewed at first, but I persuade her by promising that I won¡¯t make my questions too personal, that she can refuse to answer anything she wants, and that I¡¯ll let her read over the relevant portions of the essay and suggest changes before I submit it.


    In the end it¡¯s not so much about her experiences as it is about having someone to discuss whether my proposal achieves what it sets out to. My system is very different from the existing one: it states that every Malaina should have thorough records of their active episodes and their causes kept by an overseeing organisation, and that this record should be used to determine which are at risk of becoming mala sia on a case-by-case basis.


    I had the idea for that before my day¡¯s research, but it¡¯s the specific criteria I¡¯ve chosen that come from the hours Elsie and I spent going through books and journals together. Number and frequency of active episodes, of course, but also examining the inciting incidents: how closely related they are to the initial Fall and their severity.


    And severity can¡¯t just be measured by the obvious nature of the incident. Take my episode in the library: it was triggered by my being locked in hyperspace, but it was also because of being goaded by Mildred, because of weeks of built-up stress and guilt without an outlet.


    ¡°That sounds great in theory,¡± is Elizabeth¡¯s perspective. ¡°But how are you actually going to get all of this information? A lot of Malaina aren¡¯t exactly going to want to explain in detail exactly what caused a particular episode, and that¡¯s if they even have the self-awareness to understand it. Just because someone can¡¯t give you the explanation doesn¡¯t make them unstable.¡±


    That is, I have to admit, a very good point. That¡¯s exactly why I wanted to talk to someone else about this: it¡¯s so easy for other people to see the flaws I¡¯m blind to. How can I address that, though? ¡°Others around them could¡­¡± I know that¡¯s useless the moment I say it: if you asked my parents to describe in detail the reasons for my Fall, I don¡¯t think either of them would manage it.


    Edward would, though. Maybe even Electra would; she had a substantial portion of the story pieced together within only a few hours of meeting me. I realise the sudden irony of the fact I¡¯m seriously considering Electra as part of the solution to this problem.


    Why not, though? She helped me. She helped Elizabeth. And she¡¯s probably helped countless others as well.


    And when I realise the answer to that question the irony is even stronger, so much so that I can¡¯t help but laugh aloud.


    ¡°What is it?¡± asks Elizabeth, confused.


    ¡°I was thinking about Electra. And whether more people like her would be a solution. And¡­ what happens if one of them abuses their power?¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s that she hasn¡¯t done that.¡±


    I nod. I was sceptical at first, when she told me everything Electra had done for her. That despite her Electra-ness, she wasn¡¯t a monster or anything close to one. But I¡¯ve learnt from experience now that she was right.


    But once the dark amusement has died down, I¡¯m left with the uncomfortable realisation that I don¡¯t know the solution to this problem. I don¡¯t even know if a solution exists.


    No; there has to be a way. Maybe not a perfect way, but a better one than what there is now. I just have to find it and ¨C


    And what? This is a high school essay. I¡¯ve already done far more than what¡¯s required of me. It¡¯s not as if I¡¯m writing a proposal to put before Parliament, not as if this alone could lead to real change.


    ¡°But,¡± I say, realisation flooding through me, ¡°I want it to.¡±


    Elizabeth gives me a confused look for the second time in as many minutes. I barely pay attention.


    The way people treat Malaina is wrong. It¡¯s unjust. Born of fear, understandable fear, but also of not knowing that we¡¯re not just monsters or future monsters, the way we¡¯re portrayed in all the stories. We¡¯re people too; flawed, traumatised people with dangerous powers, but people nonetheless.


    I want to make them see that. I want to change people¡¯s minds ¨C no, stars, I want to change the world. Make it better not just for Malaina, but for everyone.


    It feels right, telling myself that, but also terrifying. Am I not discovering just how difficult it is to find the right answers? What makes me think that I of all people can solve problems that have plagued politicians and kings for centuries? Who am I?


    I¡¯m nobody; just a lawyer¡¯s daughter, perhaps some day a lawyer herself. Just a girl who couldn¡¯t even cope with school and her parents. Just a Fallen girl.


    Except that¡¯s not true. Not any more. Because that girl would not have made it this far; she would have broken completely weeks ago. There must be more to me than that.


    I¡¯m the girl who faced down the Black Raven himself and persuaded him to show mercy. No; that¡¯s not true, either. It¡¯s a legend that¡¯s been built from me without my consent, a legend that relies on the popular perception of Lord Blackthorn as an utter monster and the belief that what I did during the riot came from anything other than the desperate urge to not see a man murdered before my eyes.


    It might have a scrap of truth buried in it, but it¡¯s not me.


    I¡¯m Edward Blackthorn¡¯s best friend. That is undeniably true, undeniably part of me. I would not have changed this much, made it this far, without him. It¡¯s not all I am, though. This feeling I have now, this finding of my purpose, is mine alone.


    I¡¯m a girl finding my way in a world I still don¡¯t fully understand. I¡¯m a girl who¡¯s survived a riot, survived being turned into a story and being hated by people who don¡¯t know anything about me. I¡¯ve made mistakes, but I¡¯ve learnt from them, and I¡¯m becoming¡­ I¡¯m becoming someone who really could change the world.


    If I can survive and keep fighting for long enough.

 72. Experiments

    My epiphany doesn¡¯t change much, at least not at first. Things go on in the way that¡¯s somehow become normal. I write as much of the essay as I can before returning to the City Library, though I¡¯ll probably have to completely redraft it to fit in the additional points I¡¯ll discover. Edward is willing to lend me his copy-quill, though, which will make that process significantly less painful.


    I show him the draft. He¡¯s impressed, though not as much so as I hoped; he¡¯s lost in a world of magic I can¡¯t understand, teaching himself improved ward schemes so that the next time we need to have a private conversation it will stand a far smaller chance of being overheard.


    ¡°Warding is a more interesting branch of magic than I thought,¡± he tells me. ¡°I don¡¯t think I¡¯m going to specialise in it over enchantments, but definitely worth devoting more time to. I¡¯ll have to, anyway, if I want to not be a completely useless Royal Magician.¡±


    I blink at him for a second; it¡¯s easy to forget that he¡¯ll one day be responsible for maintaining the wards that cover the entire City and many of its most important buildings. Only Edward could believe he¡¯ll become a good enough wardsmith to do that effectively without it even being his specialism. Then again, as far as I know only one of the current five Royal Magicians is a specialist in wards, so it¡¯s certainly possible.


    I¡¯m recruited as a test subject for the various new wards Edward tries to cast. More advanced versions of the privacy wards he¡¯s already using, ones that give the illusion that no-one is present within. Trip wards linked to Edward¡¯s mind that inform him whenever someone crosses them. Simple anti-magic wards that make it harder to cast within them.


    ¡°You¡¯re calm at the moment, aren¡¯t you?¡± he asks before getting me to step into the last of those.


    ¡°Why?¡± I ask suspiciously. I was perfectly calm until his question implied there was a reason not to be.


    ¡°Malaina episodes and anti-magic wards¡­ don¡¯t mix well.¡±


    I consider that for a second. It makes a certain amount of sense: trying to supress a Malaina episode through sheer force of will never ends well, so attempting the same by means of brute magical force is unlikely to go much better. I suppose otherwise it would be used as a method of controlling episodes.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say.


    ¡°Good,¡± says Edward, and beckons me into the chalk circle.


    I step inside. Nothing noticeable changes. ¡°I guess now I try casting something?¡±


    ¡°No, you hop around the circle chanting a prayer.¡±


    Edward is very good at making sarcastic statements sound serious, so it takes me a second to realise the obvious. I try to think what I should cast; unlike Edward I don¡¯t typically carry things around just for the purposes of testing magic.


    He realises that at the same time as I do, and tosses me one of his marbles. I catch it almost without thinking and mutter a levitation-spell. The marble stays stubbornly in my hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m an idiot,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t this what¡¯s supposed to happen?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I haven¡¯t accounted for the Wilson-Marks effect.¡±


    I glare at him until he realises I have no idea what the Wilson-Marks effect is.


    ¡°If someone believes they¡¯re within an anti-magic ward, then they¡¯ll believe that their spells will fail. And hence their spells will fail, regardless of whether they are in fact within an anti-magic ward. It¡¯s not guaranteed, of course, there are a considerable number of variables affecting the individual¡¯s likelihood to falsely believe¡­¡±


    I let him keep talking a little longer. It¡¯s a lot more interesting than the usual sort of magical theory Edward lectures me on, and I¡¯m impressed he¡¯s managed to go the whole weekend without giving me more lectures.


    ¡°So what does this mean for your tests?¡± I ask once he¡¯s done.


    ¡°Oh ¨C right ¨C that. I¡¯m not sure how vulnerable you¡¯ll be to the effect ¨C I¡¯ve tried and failed to cast in there, and I¡¯d like to hope I wouldn¡¯t be affected, but we can¡¯t be sure. I¡¯ll do a proper trial to account for this.¡±


    He sends me out of the room.


    We¡¯ve been working in a meeting room ¨C it¡¯s probably best to do a project like this somewhere we can¡¯t be disturbed, since it would be at the very least frowned upon by the powers that be at the Academy ¨C so there¡¯s no-one else in the corridor outside. I pace back and forth for a couple of minutes until he calls me back in.


    There are two chalk circles on the floor now, both the same size and with what looks at a glance like the same simple pattern just outside.


    ¡°One of these two circles has an activated anti-magic ward, and the other has an un-activated one which will have no effect except possibly due to Wilson-Marks. Pick one and try casting.¡±


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    I peer more closely at the patterns.


    ¡°And don¡¯t try to figure out which is which, please, that defeats the entire point of what we¡¯re trying to achieve.¡±


    I jerk my eyes away guiltily and pick the leftmost circle at random. I suppose I want to believe that my spell will succeed, that I¡¯ve chosen the un-activated ward, for this to work. So I tell myself that it¡¯ll work, and cast the levitation-spell again. Nothing happens.


    I glance at Edward, who¡¯s keeping his face carefully blank. ¡°Now try the other one.¡±


    So I cross the chalk lines to the second circle. Assuming that I¡¯m not particularly susceptible to this Wilson-Marks effect ¨C and if I got the right impression from Edward¡¯s brief lecture most magicians would be able to cast normally believing there¡¯s a fifty percent chance they¡¯re in an anti-magic ward when they¡¯re not ¨C this should be the un-activated one and my spell should work.


    It does.


    ¡°There we are,¡± I say. ¡°Looks like your wards work.¡±


    ¡°Looks like they do,¡± Edward replies. ¡°I am actually curious about how you¡¯d fare in the standard Wilson-Marks tests now, but I understand if you¡¯d rather not have me experimenting on you.¡±


    ¡°Actually,¡± I say, ¡°I don¡¯t have a problem with that.¡±


    He clearly wants to do it, and it gives me the chance to learn magical theory in a more practical way than we¡¯re taught in classes. And a little voice inside me wonders whether some of these tests might reveal something about whatever¡¯s happening with my magical signature.


    But if there is something strange about my magic, it isn¡¯t so easily revealed. I¡¯m unusually unsusceptible to Wilson-Marks, apparently, contrary to my expectations. Edward is too: he taught me to activate and deactivate the two ward circles and then made me run the same tests on him, though he says it¡¯s less effective on someone who¡¯s already familiar with their methodology.


    We try a few other experiments too. Edward gets me to do a few tests to see which School he defaults to using for which type of magic. Siaril for enchantments and conjurations, Malaina for spells is the general pattern; the only exception we find is illusions.


    ¡°I¡¯m jealous,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s so much easier being able to choose the School most suited to the task. I¡¯m stuck with Malaina even for spellwork Malaina are worse at.¡±


    ¡°My dad could source the components for the Arsinth ritual for you, if you want?¡±


    I stare blankly at him. I should be used to this sort of thing by now. But this isn¡¯t just fancy enchanted gadgets he¡¯s offering. It¡¯s to be a magician twice over. The cost is vast, the legal restrictions extreme.


    And Lord Blackthorn could ¨C and, if Edward is to be believed, would ¨C do that for me.


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° I say when I can trust myself to speak again. ¡°It was just ¨C wishful thinking. It would be nice to have a second School, but I don¡¯t need it. Not really. Don¡¯t make him go to that much trouble on my account.¡±


    Don¡¯t put me in that much debt to him. Even if he never demanded financial compensation for it, I would not be surprised if Lord Blackthorn used something like that to coerce me somewhere down the line.


    Edward laughs. ¡°It wouldn¡¯t be trouble. He¡¯s actively trying to lose as much of the family fortune as he can.¡±


    ¡°¡­what?¡±


    ¡°Or that¡¯s what my grandmother says, anyway. One of the things I had to put up with her telling me for information about my mother. My grandfather would be turning in the grave if he knew, apparently, and that¡¯s probably most of the reason he¡¯s doing it.¡±


    Of all the things I expected to learn about Lord Blackthorn, that he¡¯s trying to lose a fortune to spite his dead father is not one of them. Then again, not necessarily: we only have his mother¡¯s word on it, and I don¡¯t know how reliable a source she¡¯d be.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯m sure he can find plenty of ways to do that that don¡¯t involve me.¡±


    Edward laughs again.


    I have a couple more Magical Theory study sessions with Elsie. They go well; I¡¯m starting to understand how her mind works and what sort of explanation she¡¯ll best understand, and it¡¯s helping me with revision as well. Though even the thought of revision is beginning to become scary as the tests approach.


    I draw up a proper timetable for the next couple of weeks, giving me enough time to go back through all the content I want to and work through sets of practice questions. Edward sees it and immediately steals it from me and forces me to create a new version giving myself more breaks.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I tell him. ¡°This is no more intense than what I did for Genford end-of-year exams last year ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And that,¡± he replies, ¡°is my point.¡±


    That what I was doing in Genford wasn¡¯t working, not really, because of how that all ended. I grimace. Maybe he¡¯s right, but I still need to be prepared for these tests, to do well on them. And there isn¡¯t enough time to do everything I have to do and still get as much rest as Edward says I should.


    ¡°But I have to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°So I¡¯m prepared ¨C ¡°


    Edward shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s a pass-fail grading system. Your results don¡¯t matter as long as you pass.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say, given you¡¯re going to get top marks in everything without even revising.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah, I spent years revising this stuff before I ever came to the Academy. That¡¯s not a fair comparison.¡±


    No. It isn¡¯t. Edward is the best friend I ever had, but sometimes I wish he was a little less of a prodigy just so I wouldn¡¯t be able to make those unfair comparisons. ¡°Exactly,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s why I need to put more time into this now, because I didn¡¯t have those years to do that.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Okay. How about this: you will work better in the tests if you¡¯re well-rested and not sick to death of revision, and that will probably make more of a difference than whether you got through that one more practice paper.¡±


    I wonder, not for the first time, how Edward became so sensible about things like this when his father devotes his entire life to work. I can¡¯t imagine Lord Blackthorn ever taking the luxury of a day off.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter. ¡°I¡¯ll rewrite the timetable.¡±


    ¡°Remember to build in time for figuring out that releasing-magic-into-the-ambience enchantment. You thought I¡¯d forgotten, didn¡¯t you?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°I would never think that of you.¡±


    In the end I hand in the essay to Sam before going back to the City Library. It¡¯s already three days past the normal deadline, and I should be prioritising revision; I can go back and research more on my own terms later, now that I have that pass the librarian gave me. Edward mutters something about inadequate security procedures when he sees that, but doesn¡¯t give me the full lecture, thankfully.


    It''s easily the longest essay I¡¯ve ever written, which is saying something considering what I normally do to Sam¡¯s minimum page counts.


    ¡°This is going to take quite some time to mark,¡± he complains, but I think he¡¯s happy about it. I hope he is, anyway; I feel a little bad about giving him a load of extra work by doing this.

 73. Revision

    Elsie, Elizabeth, Robin and I make an informal study group. It¡¯s Elsie¡¯s idea: she needs the commitment of working with others to help her get enough work done. I¡¯m sceptical of the idea at first, since most of the study groups I¡¯ve seen form before Genford exams have been groups of friends who spend longer chatting and distracting each other than actually studying, but it turns out to be pretty effective.


    It''s the people who make up the group that makes it work, I decide. All of us are committed to revising. Robin and I are naturally quiet and studious, Elsie is sufficiently determined to do well and rarely the one starting conversations, and Elizabeth being a few years older than the rest of us means she¡¯s not going to distract us.


    I invite Edward to join us. He refuses, saying it¡¯s a waste of time for him: he isn¡¯t going to revise, and it would be unfair to do more advanced work in the same place we¡¯re struggling with the basics. It makes me wonder why Robin works with us: she must know everything we¡¯re studying almost as well as Edward does, after all.


    ¡°You should come anyway,¡± I say. ¡°At least once in a while. It¡¯ll be good for you to make more friends.¡±


    He shoots me a look filled with his disdain for that idea.


    I try a different approach. ¡°People aren¡¯t going to be convinced that you¡¯re not a monster like your father if you don¡¯t spend time with them and prove them wrong.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not,¡± I agree. ¡°I know that, because I know you. The others don¡¯t. Stars, Elsie is still scared of you sometimes. Is that what you want?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t respond. But he does come to our next study session.


    I¡¯m not sure his curling up in a chair and reading, ignoring the presence of everyone else, is going to make much of a difference. Still, it¡¯s progress. Elsie and Elizabeth both give me quizzical looks, to which I reply with shrugs.


    He glances up just often enough to make it clear he¡¯s listening, though, so I decide to try and draw him into the group a bit more. The next time Elsie asks me for clarification about spell operators, I give a definition that contains multiple glaring errors.


    ¡°Oh, thank you,¡± Elsie says. ¡°That makes sense.¡±


    I hope my gambit will at least work; I don¡¯t actually want to teach anyone incorrect things.


    ¡°Makes sense?¡± Edward repeats, looking up from his book. I smother a smile and allow him to point out in excruciating detail exactly what was wrong with my definition and why.


    ¡°You should know that by now, Tallulah,¡± he concludes, shooting me a suspicious look.


    I wonder how long it took him to realise what I was doing, or whether he knew all along but still couldn¡¯t bring himself to let my errors go uncorrected. ¡°I must have got confused,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know how that happened. Thank you for clarifying.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± he says, and returns to his book.


    I don¡¯t manage to get anything more out of him than that, and I¡¯m not convinced that his lecturing everyone on the finer points of spell operators is going to endear him to the group, but it¡¯s a start. In exchange, I give up an hour¡¯s revision time to work on advanced enchantments with his help.


    Once we¡¯ve figured out how to use the detection kit, casting an enchantment that releases magic channelled through it into the ambience is considerably easier than I expected. In fact each individual part of the enchantment is straightforward.


    It¡¯s just putting it together that¡¯s the hard part. And I¡¯m tense enough already that I don¡¯t deal well with the initial failure. I don¡¯t slip into a Malaina episode, but I can feel myself becoming frustrated with my inability to cast the full enchantment.


    Edward tells me things I already know. This is far beyond anything I can expect to be tested on; it¡¯s normal for new types of casting to take a while to master; he¡¯s confident I¡¯ll get there, given enough time.


    It helps, a little, but I don¡¯t get there that evening; I give up and return to revising spells I know I can cast.


    Elsie and I return to the City Library a week after our first visit. I¡¯m not convinced I should be focusing on that when I¡¯ve already handed in the essay and there¡¯s so much else to do, but Elsie insists. I¡¯m surprised by it.


    ¡°You need this, Tallulah. I know how much you care about understanding Malaina, about knowing all the facts. And I don¡¯t want you to miss out on that because of these stupid tests.¡±


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    ¡°They¡¯re not stupid,¡± I mutter mechanically, but I give in. I didn¡¯t need that much persuading, really.


    I wonder once again whether it¡¯s quite safe for me to leave the Academy and wander the city streets. Edward knows where I¡¯ll be going, though, and I still have the emergency ring Lord Blackthorn gave me. Stars help me, when did something like that become reassuring?


    But we make it safely to the library. The same receptionist is on duty when we arrive, and of course she remembers me. She still doesn¡¯t know Elsie¡¯s name, so I have to put up with the latter¡¯s complaints again. This time I don¡¯t bother reminding her that your name being known is not always a pleasant thing.


    Elsie was right, I realise as I sink back into the world of research. I do need this. A reminder that there is far more to the world than tests and grades, that if I truly want to change the world then how many marks I get will not matter one bit.


    I still want to do well, though. I need to prove to myself beyond reasonable doubt that I am a magician, that I am capable of not only surviving but thriving at the Academy. Edward would probably say something about how test results are not an accurate measure of something like that. He¡¯d probably be right. But it still matters to me.


    It¡¯s not the only thing that matters, though.


    My dad writes to me. His letter is short, matter-of-fact, to the point. Louise and I have discussed matters in detail. Neither of us are willing to change our minds on the issue of your continued attendance of the Academy. She will not allow you to return for Holy Days if you go back to the Academy afterwards.


    I told her that I would be spending Holy Days with my daughter, if that is what you want, and if that meant spending them without my wife then so be it.


    I have secured temporary lodgings in Crelt for the two of us, and I hope very much you will join me there when term ends.


    In other words: my mother declined my request for an apology. That¡¯s not a surprise. And nor is her refusing to welcome me back for Holy Days after I¡¯ve gone against what she wanted for me so blatantly and irreversibly. I¡¯m more surprised by my father¡¯s choice, but it¡¯s a pleasant surprise.


    It seems like he was forced to choose between the two of us after all, and he chose me.


    It looks as if I do have a better place than Blackthorn Manor to stay, at least. I reply at once accepting the invitation. Edward is disappointed, I can tell, and I feel a little bad for abandoning him to his lonely home for a month.


    I¡¯m almost tempted to offer to stay with him for a week after the end of term. Almost.


    It strikes me suddenly that I might never see my mother again. We won¡¯t be living in the same house any more, even in the holidays, so we¡¯d only meet if we agreed to. And after everything that¡¯s happened between us, I don¡¯t think either of us want that.


    I don¡¯t miss the woman who wrote that last letter, the woman who stormed out on me because of Edward. But I do miss the mother she used to be. The woman who tucked me in at night and told me stories and encouraged my love of reading and learning.


    So there¡¯s sadness mingled with the relief of my dad choosing me and of having somewhere to stay for the holidays that isn¡¯t Blackthorn Manor. If coming to the Academy was a new beginning, this feels like an ending.


    The sadness doesn¡¯t linger for long, though. I¡¯m busy enough that I can¡¯t afford to let it. I work to distract myself, always filling time with that little piece of extra revision. Edward tells me not to work so hard, but I feel fine. Doing something to prepare for the tests helps me worry less about them, and if my mind is filled with spell formulations and alchemical recipes it can¡¯t dwell on other recent events.


    The last week of lessons is devoted to revision. Edward is not happy about this: it makes them a waste of his time, apparently, even more so than some of them already are. I feel like I should be annoyed at the arrogance of that, but it¡¯s hard when I know so well that he¡¯s actually smart enough to back it up.


    He tries to negotiate with the teachers to let him skip classes, or at least sit and read or work independently. Some are more flexible than others about that, and the way they structure the lessons more generally. Humphrey allows us to work on anything we¡¯ve covered in Enchantments thus far and ask for help when we need it. Sam is quite happy for me to read history books if I can argue that they¡¯re relevant to his subject, which isn¡¯t too hard if I choose the right books (though I only take advantage of his offer once.)


    Others are stricter, though. Mary is understandable: it¡¯s tricky enough for the Alchemy teacher to make sure none of us are injured in explosions when we¡¯re all working on the same thing, and having half a dozen different potions and tinctures being brewed at once would be rather dangerous. Then there¡¯s Felicity.


    She calls us up one at a time and asks us to demonstrate whatever spell she tells us to. It would have been a lot worse with Mildred still in the class and given the opportunity to show off, but for now she contents herself with giving the hardest spells to the students she likes least.


    And I, unfortunately, am among that number. I¡¯m challenged to produce an illusory replica of the portrait of James the Wise that hangs in the dining hall. I¡¯ve sat beneath it often enough that I have a clear mental image of said portrait, but replicating it in an illusion is far beyond my current level and she knows it.


    I¡¯m going to have to stand up in front of the class and produce an utter mess of an illusion that bears only the vaguest of resemblances to what it¡¯s meant to be. I¡¯m going to fail, and it¡¯s not even my fault it¡¯s because of Felicity favouring Mildred and taking a dislike to me because of all that and ¨C


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. No. If there¡¯s one thing that¡¯s worse than failing so publicly, it¡¯s having a Malaina episode because of the mere threat of it. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.


    ¡°Sometime this week, if you please,¡± Felicity says, an edge to her voice. Someone laughs; I can¡¯t tell who.


    Eleanor the Bold. I can¡¯t do this without having time to calm myself and let the episode pass. Felicity is not going to give me that time, and I doubt asking for it would make anything better here.


    Remove yourself from the situation. I stand up and grab my satchel. ¡°I have to go to the bathroom,¡± I say.


    ¡°Surely you can wait a couple of minutes until your demonstration is complete?¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°It¡¯s urgent,¡± I say, and then with a flash of inspiration ¡°Women¡¯s troubles.¡±


    As I expected, she¡¯s prim and proper enough that the mention of those things in her classroom shocks her for a second, and I take advantage of that second to make my escape.

 74. Illusion

    I do actually go to the bathroom. No sense in making it more obvious than it may already have been that I was lying, and besides I can lock myself in a toilet stall and be sure no-one will disturb me, like Mildred did that time ¨C


    I stop that thought before it has a chance to fully form. Timothy the Peacemaker. Maria the Seafarer. I get as far as Alfred the Short before my breathing feels calm enough and my anger at Felicity is contained. No sense in staying longer; I need to be back quickly enough that my excuse remains somewhat plausible.


    So, reluctantly, I return to the classroom.


    ¡°Ah, Tallulah,¡± says Felicity, a cold smile that reminds me faintly of Electra playing across her face. ¡°I trust your¡­ women¡¯s troubles¡­ are under control now?¡±


    Does she know the real reason I left, or is she just trying to embarrass me in front of the class? ¡°Yes,¡± I say, returning to my seat. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Since Edward is unable to perform his demonstration, would you care to go next?¡±


    I blink. Edward failed? What in stars¡¯ names did she expect of him? I shoot him an anxious glance. He¡¯s tense, I can tell, struggling to not fight back against whatever she did.


    And now it¡¯s my turn to go up there and humiliate myself for her petty satisfaction. I want to refuse her, but I have no justification for such a refusal and she¡¯d only use it to give me detention if I tried.


    No, I don¡¯t want to refuse her. I want to wipe that smug look off her face by casting a flawless illusion of James the Wise¡¯s portrait. Except I can¡¯t.


    Can¡¯t you, Tallulah?


    I remember Edward telling me about how to add more details to purely visual illusions. It might seem like there¡¯s a difference between a simple coloured square and a detailed scene, but on a conceptual level that isn¡¯t the case. It¡¯s just a case of convincing yourself of that. You¡¯re not trying to paint a scene: just take the image that¡¯s in your mind and make it real.


    He made it sound so simple, but I never managed it. It wasn¡¯t important, though: the technique isn¡¯t that useful unless you¡¯re planning to specialise in illusions, and no-one (I thought) would expect me to be capable of it at this level.


    Given a few hours to work on it and Edward¡¯s patient coaching, I think I could learn to cast illusions that way. Right now, though? It¡¯s impossible.


    And some mad part of me sees that impossibility as a challenge.


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, with considerably more confidence than I feel. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    I walk to the front of the class, without taking my eyes off Felicity. She¡¯s still looking at me as if she¡¯s certain I¡¯m going to fail, but I¡¯m not quite so convinced any more.


    Take the image that¡¯s in your mind and make it real.


    I close my eyes and think of the portrait. I don¡¯t focus on its details, I just imagine it hanging in the air in front of me, so close I could reach out and touch it. The rest is simple, in theory: I¡¯ve practiced simpler illusions enough that my fingers instinctively make the right pattern, and I whisper my incantation: from nothingness.


    Then I open my eyes and see the illusion hanging there. It¡¯s a perfect scale reproduction of the portrait that hangs in the dining hall. I want to laugh with joy and surprise, but that would ruin the moment. ¡°Is this satisfactory?¡± I ask Felicity, meeting her eyes.


    The look on her face in that moment is certainly satisfactory. ¡°I ¨C yes. Yes, it is.¡±


    Edward shoots me a triumphant smile as I return to my seat.


    ¡°What did she ask you to do?¡± I ask as we walk to our next lesson.


    ¡°Specific animation,¡± Edward replies.


    ¡°We haven¡¯t covered that in class, have we?¡±


    ¡°Do you really think I wouldn¡¯t have been able to do it if we had?¡±


    He has a point. ¡°And you¡­¡±


    ¡°Pointed that out, obviously. She wasn¡¯t too happy about that. I didn¡¯t want to push her too far, though, I figured she¡¯d take it out on you when you came back. Speaking of which¡­ was that actually what you said it was?¡±


    I shake my head subtly. I don¡¯t really want to admit it was an episode in public, but he¡¯ll be able to work it out.


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    He narrows his eyes. ¡°Then you haven¡¯t been practicing with illusions like that?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°No. It just¡­ happened.¡±


    Now he mentions it, that is a little strange. Normally when I successfully cast a tricky new spell it¡¯s after hours of practice, working alone or with only Edward there, gradually convincing myself that I understand what I¡¯m doing and am capable of it.


    Not suddenly getting it right first time under pressure, after not having touched it for weeks.


    What was different about that moment?


    There are only a few days now before the tests begin, and everyone but Edward is revising harder than ever. He does come to our group study sessions still, though I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s just to humour me. And he does occasionally contribute when we¡¯re all struggling with a tricky topic, explaining it in a way that makes it sound obvious.


    The study room door creaks open, and we all look up from our work or books to see Mildred poking her head around the corner. My heart sinks a little.


    ¡°Hello, everyone,¡± she says with fake cheer. ¡°Studying hard, I see? I was wondering if I might join you. I find I work so much better in a group, you see.¡± She steps inside without waiting for an answer, letting the door swing shut behind her.


    ¡°No,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°Thank you so much, everyone. What are you working on at ¨C I¡¯m sorry, did you just say no?¡± Her face is a picture of confusion.


    ¡°I did,¡± Edward says, not looking up from his book. ¡°We don¡¯t want you here.¡±


    Mildred¡¯s expression twists into something ugly for a second, and then she recovers herself. ¡°I suppose you wouldn¡¯t, would you? But it doesn¡¯t seem as if you¡¯re part of the group I¡¯m joining.¡±


    She crosses to the table with the poise of a dancer, almost seeming to float across the ground.


    I don¡¯t quite know what the right move is, because I don¡¯t know what her game is. I want her to just go away and leave us alone, but maybe she¡¯s trying to bait us into a confrontation and telling her that will just be giving her what she wants.


    Edward is silent, pretending to be absorbed in his book still, but he¡¯s hoping one of us will back him up and tell her to leave.


    We¡¯re all looking at each other, though, none of us quite prepared to say it.


    ¡°You see?¡± Mildred says. ¡°I¡¯m perfectly welcome here.¡± She pulls out the last empty chair.


    ¡°What do you want, Mildred?¡± I ask, frustrated. I can¡¯t play the games she plays, so maybe I should just get straight to the point.


    For a moment I expect it to be something awful, but she hesitates for a second and then says ¡°Why should I want anything more than to work with others and to spend time with you all?¡±


    ¡°If you think any of us are going to believe that after everything you did to Tallulah, ¡° Edward says, ¡°then¡­¡± he lets his voice fade away.


    I tense. I trust Elsie, Elizabeth and Robin, but I don¡¯t want the details of that affair being dredged up again. Could she deliberately reveal it as a way of hurting us? I don¡¯t think so, but¡­


    ¡°Actually,¡± Mildred says, ¡°I wanted to apologise to her.¡±


    I¡¯m confused for a second. She¡¯s not sorry for what she did; even if she regrets it, I don¡¯t doubt she would have done the same again for a chance of saving her father. And she must know I know that, so why ¨C


    Oh. This is a performance for the benefit of the others. The very fact none of them know the full truth means that she can spin her own tale of events to frame her in a better light.


    ¡°Say whatever you have to say,¡± I reply. ¡°I¡¯m listening.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t thinking clearly, not for the whole awful affair until it was nearly too late. I was grieving my father before he was even dead, desperately trying to find a way to deny reality. I lashed out at you, that day in the library. I was looking for someone to blame, and there you were. I didn¡¯t mean the things I said, not really; I shouldn¡¯t have said them.¡±


    Stars, she¡¯s a good actress. I almost want to believe her.


    ¡°No,¡± I agree, choosing my words carefully. ¡°You shouldn¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°And then ¨C I suppose I must have panicked. I was convinced your response made you, well¡­¡±


    ¡°Unstable,¡± I finish. I¡¯m not letting her dance around the reality of what happened and her own actions if I can help it.


    Mildred nods. ¡°I didn¡¯t know enough about Malaina at the time. I believed you were dangerous. I believed what I was doing was for the best, even if¡­¡±


    I want so much to tell her that she¡¯s lying, to tell the real story. The only thing holding me back is the thought that that might be what she wants me to do. If not that, then, what should I do? I can¡¯t even pretend to forgive her.


    ¡°You nearly cost me my freedom,¡± I say instead, letting a little of my anger and frustration leak into my voice. ¡°That¡¯s not something that can be fixed just by apologising. Is it?¡±


    She sighs. ¡°I never claimed it would. But it needed to be said. And I hope ¨C I hope it can be a new beginning.¡±


    I force myself to stay calm and take a few seconds to find the right words. ¡°I don¡¯t think I can be friends with someone who did that to me. No matter their reasons.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to hear that,¡± Mildred replies. ¡°If you ever change your mind, you know where to find me.¡±


    I will never change my mind, not on this. I don¡¯t say as much, though.


    ¡°And as for you, Blackthorn? I hope you¡¯re satisfied now.¡±


    She leaves without another word, leaving an awkward silence in her wake.


    ¡°So,¡± says Robin after a few seconds. ¡°We were talking about the Byrd-Thomas theory of enchanting, I believe?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say, seizing the opportunity to distract everyone from Mildred. ¡°The thing I don¡¯t understand about it is ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Are we really just going to pretend that didn¡¯t happen?¡± Elsie asks.


    ¡°Yup,¡± says Edward without looking up. None of us contradict him.


    Maybe I should have, though. Because Elsie never found out the truth; for all I know she might believe every word Mildred said. And she was close to Mildred before the incident in the library. Perhaps part of her regrets cutting a former friend out of her life, wants to rebuild her friendship with Mildred.


    And the only way for me to stop that is to tell her the truth. So that is what I resolve to do.


    It isn¡¯t quite that simple. Mostly because a little part of me is scared that she won¡¯t believe me. That¡¯s why we kept the secret during my isolation: it sounds like a conspiracy theory I concocted to avoid having to face the consequences of my episode.


    Elsie and I have been friends for a month since then, though. She knows me and trusts me and understands that I wouldn¡¯t do something like that. It¡¯ll be okay to tell her.


    That¡¯s not the only thing giving me hesitation: part of the story is made up of the Blackthorns¡¯ secrets. And neither of them would be happy with me if they found out I¡¯d been revealing them, even to a single trustworthy friend.


    Which means I¡¯ll just have to make sure they don¡¯t find out, won¡¯t I?

 75. Fun and Games

    It goes worse than I expected, but better than I feared. Elsie listens to my story without saying a word and keeps her silence even after I¡¯m done.


    ¡°You do believe me,¡± I say. ¡°Don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Of course I believe you,¡± she replies. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ it¡¯s a lot to take in. And¡­ you only told me now, instead of before.¡±


    I only told her now because I was scared she¡¯d believe Mildred¡¯s story otherwise. I would have been quite happy if she never knew. I didn¡¯t want to tell her my secrets.


    She¡¯s right.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I say. ¡°It was¡­ I wanted to forget about that time. And I didn¡¯t want to give away the Blackthorns¡¯ secrets. Please don¡¯t tell anyone about this.¡±


    We should have had this conversation behind privacy wards and shut away in a meeting room, like so many conversations I¡¯ve had with Edward. But I don¡¯t know how to create those wards, and I don¡¯t have the dispensation from the Board of Governors that allows me to reserve a meeting room alone.


    I probably could get one, if I wanted to. There¡¯s a legitimate argument that now I¡¯m to some extent a public figure I will have need for private discussions, and there¡¯s the argument that Lord Blackthorn could probably request some of the same special measures for me as are already in place for Edward.


    But, stubborn fool that I am, I don¡¯t want Lord Blackthorn¡¯s help.


    If Edward (let alone his father) found out about this, though, he¡¯d be furious with me for the breach of security. It still feels like a better choice than keeping Elsie in the dark and letting her make the wrong decisions because of it.


    I hate the fact that I¡¯m even having to make these decisions. Why can¡¯t I just be a normal person with normal friendships that don¡¯t have state secrets getting in their way?


    I know why, and I don¡¯t regret that choice for a second.


    Mildred doesn¡¯t try to interrupt any more of our study sessions, thankfully. I¡¯m still on edge wondering what she¡¯s planning and where she¡¯ll appear next. Edward and I spend a while trying to analyse her motivations. Is she seeking revenge, or does she genuinely want our forgiveness?


    ¡°Politically speaking, she needs allies if she wants to accomplish anything. And the Blackthorns are¡­ not her worst choice in that regard.¡±


    I stare at Edward incredulously.


    ¡°Or we wouldn¡¯t be, if my dad was the kind of politician she expects to deal with,¡± he adds. ¡°The kind who¡¯d be perfectly happy to give her little scraps of influence in exchange for her vote going the way he wants. That sort of bargain is the only chance she has of becoming anyone of real significance.¡±


    ¡°Your dad wouldn¡¯t offer it, though.¡± It hardly needs stating: Lord Blackthorn sees Mildred as a threat, and he does not make truce with threats.


    ¡°She doesn¡¯t understand that. Play the game for too long and you assume everyone else obeys the same rules.¡±


    That is the least of Mildred¡¯s problems.


    I finally manage to put the pieces together and create an enchantment that only works when sufficiently little magic is channelled through it. It¡¯s remembering that moment in Felicity¡¯s lesson that does the trick. If I can do something like that on the spot, why can¡¯t I cast anything I want?


    In the end I cast the enchantment on a small glass bead with a hole through it, which will glow a faint starlight-silver if my control is successful. I¡¯ll keep it in my pocket for now, but I like the idea of having a string of enchanted beads for a necklace someday.


    Edward is already coming up with ideas for my next project, but I¡¯m not doing anything more until the tests are done.


    There¡¯s only one weekend left by now. I¡¯m not quite as prepared as I¡¯d like to be, but the thought of working more doesn¡¯t make me want to curl up in a ball and cry, which is a pretty significant improvement over preparation for Genford end-of-year exams.


    After much negotiation, the study group agrees that we¡¯re going to work on Saturday and take Sunday off to rest and do something fun together before the tests begin. We¡¯re all mostly happy with that, though I¡¯d rather work another day and Edward would rather not have to join in with the fun.


    ¡°My idea of fun isn¡¯t like most people¡¯s,¡± he complains. ¡°I won¡¯t enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°How do you know that without trying?¡±


    His only response to that is a death stare, which I take as a victory.


    We make good progress, largely, on the final day. There¡¯s just one particularly nasty Magical Theory question that has us all suffering through pages of algebra. Even Robin has to go back through her working twice after getting a negative efficiency coefficient (evidently impossible).


    Edward takes one glance at it and pronounces it a stupid question and not the sort of thing we should be tested on.


    ¡°Does that mean you can¡¯t do it?¡± I ask him teasingly.


    Being him, he takes that as a challenge, and a couple of minutes of frantic scribbling later he produces the correct answer. ¡°I¡¯m skipping questions like this if they come up.¡±


    The scary part is that I can very easily imagine Edward turning in a test where a substantial portion of his answers involve questioning the purpose and usefulness of the questions and arguing that he has no need to answer them. It isn¡¯t as if he particularly cares about his grade, after all, or about what the teachers think of him.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    And then, of course, there¡¯s the part where I forget a basic definition and spend half an hour on a question that should have taken me five minutes. My new glass bead doesn¡¯t glow when I channel magic into it after that, though I don¡¯t feel any other signs of an episode.


    I focus on channelling as little magic as possible into the bead as I recite my list of kings. It¡¯s a more efficient way of helping the episode pass, I think: I only get as far as Eleanor the Bold before the bead glows starlight-silver once more.


    It¡¯s fine, I tell myself. I¡¯m not going to forget something like that in the actual tests, and even if I do it¡¯ll only affect a single question. I¡¯m going to do perfectly well.


    Sunday is a bright and sunny day, which is a relief: all the plans we¡¯ve made involve going outdoors instead of being cooped up in the Academy¡¯s main building. It¡¯s still cold enough that we wrap ourselves in our thick winter coats before venturing into the gardens, though we shed them before our first activity.


    This one is Elizabeth¡¯s choice: running-games, tag and racing and chase-the-hare. I suppose it makes sense that she¡¯s physically fit, since she¡¯s planning on going into the military, but I still don¡¯t expect her to tear around the gardens at such high speed.


    She and Edward are the only two of us who are any good; Elsie, Robin and I aren¡¯t even close to their level. I didn¡¯t think I¡¯d enjoy it much when Elizabeth first suggested it, but after finally chasing down Robin and earning a brief rest (no tag-backs) I find myself grinning as I get my breath back.


    Elsie is by far the slowest of the group, and after a couple of minutes of her fruitlessly chasing us Elizabeth allows herself to be tagged. Edward protests that¡¯s against the spirit of the game and is rewarded for it by being charged at high speed.


    He doesn¡¯t even flinch, and just as Elizabeth stretches out her hand to tag him she runs straight into what I assume is a wall of magical force and is stopped in her tracks.


    ¡°Magic isn¡¯t allowed,¡± she protests.


    ¡°There¡¯s no rule against it,¡± Edward replies, smirking.


    ¡°All those in favour of instituting a rule against using magic in tag?¡± I ask, raising my hand. The motion passes by a four-to-one majority.


    After that we spend a while negotiating a proper ruleset before the next game begins. Edward and Robin keep trying to out-loophole each other to the point that we eventually agree to Elsie¡¯s proposal that the next person to debate the intricacies of whether enchanted items are allowed to be used will have to play the next round one-legged.


    ¡°It¡¯s a conspiracy against us,¡± Robin complains.


    ¡°Everyone is always conspiring against me,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°Come on, Tallulah. Back me up here.¡±


    ¡°You deserve it,¡± I reply, grinning.


    ¡°Traitor.¡±


    ¡°All right. New proposal. We begin the game with the current ruleset, and anyone trying to exploit loopholes is automatically tagged,¡± Elizabeth says.


    ¡°How exactly are we defining exploitation of loopholes for these purposes?¡±


    ¡°Having to ask that question, for one thing,¡± I point out.


    They do stop abusing loopholes after that, and we¡¯re able to play the rest of the games without any rule disputes. Elizabeth turns out to be slightly faster than Edward, much to the latter¡¯s disappointment. He claims it¡¯s because he hasn¡¯t been keeping up proper training since coming to the Academy.


    We¡¯re all pleasantly tired by the time that finishes, and we spend a few minutes just lying on the grass and staring up at the sky before setting off on the next part of our adventure. This one is a joint arrangement between Elsie and I: properly exploring the City Market.


    It¡¯s a little quieter than the last time I came, when Elsie and I bought a gift for Mildred after the incident at the Abbey. There¡¯s still chatter everywhere, though, and a dozen different sales calls ring out through the air, mingling so I can barely distinguish what each crier is selling.


    Our first stop is a snack stall, since we¡¯re all hungry after our morning¡¯s exercise. The little cakes we buy are too small to really help with that, but they make up for it by being utterly delicious.


    ¡°Almost as good as cinnamon bites,¡± Edward says. ¡°Then again, that¡¯s an unfair comparison ¨C enchantments affecting taste are illegal for food sold to the public.¡±


    ¡°¡­wait. You gave me enchanted food? Without telling me?¡± In old fairytales eating enchanted food is always how the heroine ends up trapped by some wicked magician or forest-spirit.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s perfectly fine. The enchantment is practically part of the recipe. Family secret.¡±


    Only Edward could say enchanted food that¡¯s a Blackthorn family secret is perfectly fine.


    ¡°Probably actually safer than non-enchanted food, in most instances,¡± he adds. ¡°If it¡¯s enchanted to taste better, it can¡¯t also have harmful enchantments.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing.


    We wander after that, without any particular aim, stopping to look at whatever interesting things we can find. Beautifully patterned fabrics, exotic fruits, miniature plants. One stall claims to sell holy relics: amulets that channel a little of the stars¡¯ power to ward off evil and bracelets that bring the wearer good fortune.


    ¡°Trying to sneak around the laws against unregulated sale of enchanted items,¡± is Edward¡¯s verdict. ¡°Religious artifacts aren¡¯t covered by the same laws, and as long as they don¡¯t make verifiable claims about their powers, they can¡¯t be proven wrong.¡±


    A couple of stalls down is a fortune-teller. She has skin darker even than mine and wears a loose, flowing blue robe; she¡¯s standing in the entrance to a dark tent made of silvery-grey fabric. ¡°Greetings!¡± she calls out. ¡°Come, let me tell you your story.¡±


    Elsie stops and looks at her curiously.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be shy! Only a silver piece for each of you. Learn your fate ¨C oh! It isn¡¯t every day I see another shadow-child. Do you have the gift of prophecy?¡±


    She¡¯s talking to me. Shadow-child is an old name for my people, born of the superstition that developed when the first of them set foot on the continent¡¯s shores. We come from a place untouched by starlight, we are set apart from others. You don¡¯t hear those superstitions so much these days.


    I never liked them, and I tense a little. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m not an oracle.¡±


    ¡°Oracles?¡± The woman laughs. ¡°No. They are short-sighted fools, blinding themselves to the truth. The true gift is so, so much more than that.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, a little awkwardly, ¡°I don¡¯t have that, either.¡±


    She tilts her head to one side, examining me. ¡°Perhaps not. But there is something about you¡­ I would like very much to see your fate.¡±


    I pause, considering. On the one hand she invoked the name of shadow-child, tying me to her when no such bonds exist. And I doubt there is a true gift of prophecy beyond what oracles can do. But¡­ I¡¯m curious, a little.


    ¡°What would that involve?¡± I ask. Edward shoots me a warning glance, which I ignore.


    ¡°You give me coin ¨C for you, I would gladly do it for nothing, but the gift always demands payment ¨C and then¡­¡± she gestures to the inside of the tent. ¡°We discover the truth of you together.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± says Edward. I can see why: venturing into that tent with a woman I have no reason to trust could very well be unsafe. And he doesn¡¯t want me taking stupid risks.


    ¡°Ah,¡± the fortune teller says, smoothly switching her gaze to him. ¡°You are a sceptic. You doubt my power.¡±


    He shrugs.


    ¡°Why is that, I wonder?¡± She looks him up and down. He¡¯s left his robes behind at the Academy in favour of a more casual outfit, so he passes for an ordinary person. ¡°You lack faith.¡±


    Edward shrugs again.


    ¡°It is a pity. You could be so much more than what you are, if you did not have such a narrow mind.¡±


    He shrugs a third time, but I can see the tension in his body now.


    ¡°I would like my fortune told,¡± says Elsie suddenly.


    ¡°Yes,¡± the woman says, smiling a little. ¡°You are interesting, aren¡¯t you?¡± She holds out her hand to Elsie, who reaches into her purse and hands her a silver coin before I have a chance to warn her not to. I don¡¯t even know if I want to warn her; I can¡¯t read this woman at all.


    ¡°Thank you. Do come in.¡±


    ¡°Be careful,¡± I tell Elsie as she follows the woman into the tent, sealing its flap behind her.

 76. Fortune

    The four of us remaining glance at each other awkwardly.


    ¡°Ten minutes,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°Until¡­¡± I ask.


    ¡°Until we tear that tent apart, if Elsie hasn¡¯t come out before then. That should shut down whatever wards are on it, and if there¡¯s more than we can fight inside we call for help. Even if they¡¯re both vanished by then we should still be able to track them down and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward, stop,¡± I insist. ¡°She¡¯s a fortune-teller. The worst that she¡¯s going to do is con Elsie out of that silver piece and tell her something about how she¡¯ll meet a tall, handsome stranger and fall in love with him and live happily ever after.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± he says, and I recognise the signs then. The way he¡¯s speaking quickly, jerkily. The way he¡¯s coiled as if about to spring into action. This is the beginning of a Malaina episode.


    I snatch his hand and squeeze it tightly, trying to think of reassurances that aren¡¯t empty. ¡°It¡¯s extremely unlikely that this is some sort of scheme to ¨C what ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You didn¡¯t say impossible.¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s not,¡± I admit. ¡°Because nothing is truly completely safe. But you can¡¯t live assuming that everything is a trap and never venturing out of your protective ward bubble.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a difference between that and not going into a shady tent with a woman who¡¯s very probably a fraud!¡±


    He has a point. I wouldn¡¯t have gone. ¡°Okay, but there¡¯s also a difference between being probably a fraud and being a front for some kind of kidnapping scheme.¡±


    Edward doesn¡¯t reply for a second; he just squeezes my hand back, hard enough it hurts a little. ¡°Keep talking,¡± he says with an effort.


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be okay,¡± I try. ¡°Elsie is going to walk out of that tent in less than ten minutes, and we¡¯ll all have a laugh about how her fortune is something any of us could have made up and then go somewhere else. There¡¯s nothing to worry about.¡±


    He turns and stares into my eyes, as if desperately trying to find truth there.


    ¡°I promise,¡± I say, as if my words have the power to make it so. ¡°I promise she¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Eight minutes.¡±


    Stars. I can¡¯t work out whether he¡¯s even doing that because he¡¯s worried about Elsie or because he needs the promise that he¡¯ll take action to hold back the Malaina episode.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Edward. Just¡­ breathe, okay? One breath at a time.¡± I follow my own advice for a few seconds. We¡¯re close enough that I can see him trying to obey me, his chest rising and falling.


    ¡°Is there something we can do?¡± asks Elizabeth.


    I honestly don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t even know what I¡¯m doing myself. I shake my head; if I were in Edward¡¯s position, I wouldn¡¯t want anyone else interfering. ¡°That¡¯s it. Keep breathing. Remember where you are. You¡¯re here, in this moment, with me, and everyone is safe.¡±


    I force as much confidence into my words as I can. I have to be certain. No-one is going to be reassured by extremely unlikely. I squash down the little voice in my head wondering if he could be right, try to ignore the scenario unfolding in my mind where he is and Elsie¡¯s fate could depend on whether I listen to him now.


    ¡°Seven minutes.¡±


    ¡°Until she comes out. If not less than that. Nothing has happened; nothing is going to happen.¡±


    I babble on in that way for a while, barely aware of what I¡¯m saying. Another three minutes pass, according to Edward¡¯s count. I guess he must be tracking the seconds in his mind, using the count similarly to my list of kings.


    ¡°Cutting-spells,¡± he says. His voice is a little calmer than before, but I can still hear that faint note of panic. He never panicked like this during the riot. ¡°Strong but precise. As if we¡¯re slashing through the fabric with a sword. We should spread out, each of us take a different corner ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Wait a second ¨C ¡° says Robin. ¡°I never agreed to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You won¡¯t help me?¡± Edward asks, speaking a little too quickly. ¡°You won¡¯t help Elsie?¡±


    ¡°Elsie isn¡¯t in danger,¡± she insists. ¡°And I am not being party to the destruction of an innocent woman¡¯s property ¨C ¡°


    I gesture frantically for Robin to shut up, and she does.


    She¡¯s not wrong. But in Edward¡¯s mind right now, you¡¯re either with him or against him ¨C and he needs to be able to trust those around him to fight by his side.


    What do we do, if four minutes pass without Elsie emerging from the tent? If I help Edward, then there¡¯s a very high chance we¡¯d be destroying the fortune-teller¡¯s tent for nothing. If I try to stop him, then in his current state he¡¯d see that as a betrayal which would likely tip him over the edge into an active episode. And if I stand by and do nothing, that¡¯s quite possibly the worst of both worlds.


    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    I need to somehow calm him enough that he can be reasoned with and think rationally about this. But even ordinarily Edward is sufficiently paranoid it would be hard to persuade him not to act. And while I know him better than almost anyone, I¡¯ve never seen him like this. I don¡¯t know exactly what he¡¯s thinking right now, don¡¯t know what he went through to make him react like this ¨C


    It clicks into place then. I¡¯m not qualified to deal with this, but I know someone who is. And I have a way of summoning him. I hold my free hand up to Edward, waiting for his eyes to lock onto it, and then wiggle one of my fingers. The finger that bears an enchanted ring. ¡°Three minutes,¡± I say.


    He nods, once, sharply.


    ¡°Tallulah, you¡¯re not seriously thinking of helping him ¨C ¡°


    I shoot Robin a death glare. The rings are supposed to be secret; that¡¯s the problem. I¡¯m not supposed to tell Elizabeth or Robin about them, which means they can¡¯t know what I¡¯m planning. So Robin¡¯s conclusion is a reasonable one. And I can¡¯t tell her she¡¯s wrong.


    Oh, stars, I can¡¯t do this. I don¡¯t have a choice. ¡°I ¨C ¡°


    I feel my heart skip a beat. I press my free hand to the enchanted bead at my necklace and focus on channelling just a little magic through it. Nothing happens.


    I can¡¯t have an episode now. Edward needs me.


    ¡°Charles First-King,¡± I say aloud, hoping that the list of kings can help both of us. ¡°Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor ¨C ¡°


    The flap of the tent swings open.


    ¡° ¨C you with whatever you need,¡± the fortune-teller is saying. I try to make out the figures in the darkness inside.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± says Elsie, stepping out into the light. ¡°Really.¡± She stops as she sees us: Elizabeth standing tense and ready for action, Robin with eyes blazing, Edward and I clinging to each other desperately. ¡°Did something happen?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, finding myself smiling with pure giddy relief. ¡°Nothing happened.¡±


    Edward takes a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, and then says ¡°Tallulah and I need to go, though.¡±


    Do we? I don¡¯t question it, though. ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± I say instead. ¡°We¡¯ll meet you back at the Academy later, if we¡¯re not done before then.¡± I doubt my improvisation is fooling any of them ¨C and I¡¯m pretty sure I¡¯ll be the one stuck answering awkward questions about this later ¨C but that¡¯s not what¡¯s important right now.


    ¡°Come on,¡± he says. He¡¯s still clutching my hand, and now he tugs at it. ¡°We¡¯ll be late.¡±


    ¡°But ¨C ¡° says Robin.


    ¡°Sorry about this,¡± I say helplessly. ¡°See you all later.¡±


    I let him pull me away from the other three and the fortune-teller, who I think is trying to persuade the others to have their fates foretold as well. Stars, I hope none of them say yes with Edward not there.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± says Edward quietly as we emerge from the Market.


    ¡°Don¡¯t be. I¡¯ve cried on your shoulder enough that you¡¯re owed the same by now.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t the same thing ¨C ¡°


    I shrug. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. Whatever you need, I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    ¡°Would you have helped me, if it came to it?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t need to say what he¡¯s referring to. The truth is that I don¡¯t know, but I doubt that¡¯s what he wants to hear. ¡°Would you have done it, if it hadn¡¯t been for¡­¡± Malaina, is the final word, but I don¡¯t say it in public. He¡¯ll understand.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Your way was better.¡±


    ¡°Where are we going?¡± I ask; we¡¯re walking along a wide street that leads to the Great South Road. ¡°Back to the Academy?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°My place.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Blackthorn Manor, he means, but why ¨C oh.


    I guessed, a while ago, something about his Fall. And he said he wanted to tell me, but the privacy we could get at the Academy wasn¡¯t sufficient. It seems now he¡¯s decided that that conversation can¡¯t wait until the next time I happen to be visiting.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to do that,¡± I say.


    ¡°Yes, I do.¡±


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to talk about it ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I need to talk about it.¡±


    ¡°Your place it is, then, I suppose.¡±


    I don¡¯t have a sense of where Blackthorn Manor is in relation to anywhere else. The only time I visited before I was teleported in, and by the time I left the medication was wearing off and I was in too much pain to pay proper attention to my surroundings.


    It¡¯s in the Inner Ring, it turns out. That¡¯s not much of a surprise: anyone influential enough to have good reason to be close to the kingdom¡¯s most important buildings and wealthy enough to afford it lives in the Inner Ring, and the Blackthorns are certainly both of those things.


    The manor sits on a side-street just off the Great West Road, Edward tells me, which means the quickest way is through the Central Ring and past the Academy. So that¡¯s the route we take. The Central Ring is thankfully quiet, or as quiet as it ever gets anyway: no protest is happening and most business has stopped for the weekend, so there¡¯s only a stream of pilgrims approaching the Abbey, a scattering of tourists and a small patrol of the High Royal Guard keeping order.


    We weave our way through the crowd, past the statue of the Mages, and turn right. Edward is more subtle than I could be about checking over his shoulder to see if we¡¯re being followed or if anyone has recognised us, but I¡¯m watching him closely enough to tell that despite the fading of the Malaina episode he is very much on edge. I don¡¯t blame him.


    But we make it to the Great West Road without incident, and from there it¡¯s only a couple of minutes¡¯ walk until the last turning, onto Blackthorn Street. Of course the family have a street named after them; I shouldn¡¯t be surprised.


    There¡¯s also a small group of protesters gathered on the street, opposite what must be the main entrance to the manor. Edward stops walking as he sees them, and we stand on the corner of the pavement. ¡°Lovely,¡± he says. ¡°We could probably get past them ¨C I could activate the wards to get in before they¡¯d have a chance to react ¨C but it¡¯s not worth the risk. Back entrance it is.¡±


    The back entrance is in the next street, Feather Lane. In fact, Edward casually unlocks the door of number fifty-five and beckons me in. I supress a laugh and step inside. It appears to be the perfectly ordinary entrance hall of a perfectly ordinary house.


    Except that perfectly ordinary houses don¡¯t typically have secret passages in their basements. Edward channels a little magic into one of the stones and a dark tunnel is revealed, reminding me of the one in the Abbey that the priest opened by a similar method.


    ¡°I¡¯m not even surprised at this point,¡± I say, and venture into the darkness.


    It¡¯s a lot shorter than the tunnel network the Abbey is connected to, at any rate, though we still need the enchanted lights we¡¯ve summoned. We emerge in what looks like a wine cellar. That, I reflect, looking around, is probably because it is a wine cellar. And very expensive-looking wine it is, too, not that I know enough about vintages to have much of an idea what the years and locations marked on each bottle and barrel mean.


    ¡°Can we speak freely now?¡± I ask.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Relatively. The servants might overhear, but they¡¯re all trustworthy. I¡¯m not telling you what we came here for until we¡¯re in a fully warded room, though.¡± He seems much calmer already. I suppose this must be one of the few places he feels truly safe.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°We may as well get to one of those, then.¡±

 77. Edwards Fall

    So we do. The room is a small one. No windows, bare walls. Just a plain wooden table and two chairs either side of it. It feels like I imagine an interrogation room might feel. I wouldn¡¯t be surprised if that were its usual purpose, considering whose house we¡¯re in.


    The one exception to the emptiness of the walls is a set of ivory tiles similar to those in Electra¡¯s office, which I assume serve as an interface with the wards in this room. Edward crosses the room to them and presses them down in a sequence he must have memorised.


    Then he turns to me. ¡°Okay. No-one can hear what¡¯s said in this room except us. And possibly my dad,¡± he adds, ¡°though I doubt even he would feel the need to bug his private room. Dad, if you¡¯re listening, I¡¯m not being stupid here. I know the risk of letting anyone know about that incident, and I¡¯m telling Tallulah anyway.¡±


    I force myself not to laugh. This is serious.


    He paces over to the table, pulls out a chair and sits down. I hesitantly take the chair opposite. I¡¯m not quite sure which of us is being interrogated here: he¡¯s the one about to reveal his deepest secrets, but I¡¯m the one feeling out of place and intimidated.


    ¡°So,¡± Edward says. ¡°I used to go for walks. From here. An hour or so, around the City. My dad encouraged it. Said I can¡¯t spend my life cooped up in a manor. I needed exercise, and I needed to see the world around me.¡±


    I nod. It seems a sensible thing to do. Given where I suspect this story is going, though¡­


    ¡°We took precautions. Of course we did. I always left through the back entrance, wore clothes that let me pass for normal, didn¡¯t keep to a fixed path each time. And I always had my ring with me.¡±


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t enough?¡± I guess.


    ¡°It was the last couple of weeks. Before I turned sixteen, became a magician. All my life up until that moment had been preparing for that moment, and I was¡­ stars, Tallulah, I was scared that despite everything I wouldn¡¯t be a good enough magician.¡± He grimaces, takes a couple of breaths, and then continues: ¡°I was a little scared I wouldn¡¯t be a magician at all.¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°Why ¨C why wouldn¡¯t you be? Siaril is inherit ¨C oh.¡±


    With the nature of his parents¡¯ relationship, with the way it ended, it wouldn¡¯t be too much of a stretch for rumours to spread that Sylvia¡¯s son was not her husband¡¯s. That Edward wouldn¡¯t inherit Siaril from Lord Blackthorn because Lord Blackthorn wasn¡¯t his true father.


    And to a boy whose entire identity was built on the idea that he would one day succeed Lord Blackthorn as a Royal Magician? Even the slightest hint of those rumours would be devastating.


    ¡°I was Falling before what happened,¡± he says. ¡°But I thought ¨C I thought once I turned sixteen, once I knew one way or the other, I¡¯d know for sure. Malaina almost never develops as a second School. Though that might be due more to the fact that¡­ well. Most magicians are powerful enough that they won¡¯t end up in the sort of situations where people Fall.¡±


    I encountered that fact in my research, noted it as a passing interest and never paid much more attention to it.


    ¡°I got distracted. Lost in worries about that sort of thing. I wasn¡¯t paying attention to my surroundings.¡±


    ¡°Edward, whatever happened ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I made a mistake, Tallulah. The sort of mistake there¡¯s no recovering from. If it wasn¡¯t for my father, I¡¯d be dead or worse.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I point out, ¡°would I be right in assuming that if it wasn¡¯t for your father you would have never needed to worry about things like that?¡±


    He nods, once, sharply. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have stood a chance anyway. Three magicians against one boy who might be one in a few days¡¯ time? That¡¯s not a fight. But I would have had a second¡¯s warning, and maybe I could have used that second to send an emergency signal to my dad.¡±


    I say nothing. I don¡¯t know what I can say to something like that.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Woke up tied up in a warehouse somewhere. Still had my ring ¨C they weren¡¯t that professional if they didn¡¯t check for enchantments thoroughly enough ¨C ¡°


    I can¡¯t help a laugh at that. Only Edward would criticise the professionalism of his kidnappers like that.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t actually press it, though. My fingers aren¡¯t quite that flexible. There was nothing I could do except sit tight and hope my dad came to save me, and then¡­they didn¡¯t treat me too badly, considering. Nothing personal, we¡¯re just using you as bait to try and kill your dad.¡± He smiles wryly.


    ¡°That was when I felt the first emergency signal from him. I was supposed to respond at once, but I couldn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t sure what was worse: the thought that he¡¯d come for me and walk into the trap and die because of me, or¡­¡± He breaks off and sighs.


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    ¡°The thought that he wouldn¡¯t come for you,¡± I finish. ¡°Because it was too risky. Because he¡¯s the monster who¡¯s prepared to make that kind of choice.¡±


    He nods. ¡°You don¡¯t need to tell me he wouldn¡¯t ever do that. I know that now ¨C we talked a lot, after ¨C but at the time¡­ in a position like that, you start to doubt everything. So that¡¯s how I Fell.¡±


    I don¡¯t have the words to respond. I¡¯m sorry. That¡¯s awful. I didn¡¯t realise.


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember anything after that until waking up back at home the next day. But my dad was there straight after. He said I blew up the entire roof of the warehouse.¡±


    I suck in a breath. I knew Malaina was dangerous, of course I did, but that level of destruction is far beyond what I expected.


    ¡°He said one of the kidnappers died in the explosion.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± I say.


    That¡¯s why it¡¯s classified, then. It¡¯s bad enough the world knowing he¡¯s Malaina without knowing he ¨C


    Edward killed someone.


    The boy sitting across from me, head in his hands, not meeting my eyes, killed someone. Stars.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say. ¡°I know you never would have done it deliberately.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°In that moment? To get out of there? I would have done whatever it took.¡±


    I don¡¯t know if I believe him, but I believe he believes it. They did kidnap him, I tell myself, they did use him as bait for his father. Legally speaking, what he did is probably justified, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯d be held responsible for the death given it was an initial Malaina episode, which the law treats a lot more mercifully than subsequent ones.


    But it¡¯s what would happen if this were to become known that matters. People hate the Blackthorns enough as it is. They¡¯d twist a story like this and mangle it until everyone is convinced that he¡¯s mala sia.


    That¡¯s why no-one has found out about this, and why Edward needed to bring me here to tell me.


    I close my eyes for a second. He¡¯s still the same person. Just because I know now that he¡¯s killed someone, that he¡¯s been through a genuinely traumatic experience like that, doesn¡¯t change that he¡¯s also the best friend I¡¯ve ever had. I need to tell him that.


    ¡°This doesn¡¯t change anything,¡± I say.


    ¡°Doesn¡¯t it?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Of course it doesn¡¯t. You¡¯re still Edward. You¡¯re still my friend.¡±


    ¡°You know what I am, now. A murderer ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It wasn¡¯t murder ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t care about your pedantic legal definitions. I killed someone. That¡¯s murder.¡±


    I shake my head. In this instance, the pedantic legalities are a better reflection of reality than Edward¡¯s simple viewpoint. Killing in self-defence isn¡¯t murder, and I don¡¯t think it¡¯s too much of a stretch to say Edward could well have died that day if he hadn¡¯t Fallen.


    ¡°I¡¯d do it again,¡± he says. ¡°If I had to. Not because of Malaina. Knowingly, willingly. Stars, Tallulah. You¡¯re a good person.¡± He hesitates. ¡°I¡¯m not.¡±


    I hesitate, taking a moment to find the words, but this isn¡¯t something I can argue in an essay. Whatever I say will have to come from instinct and knowledge of Edward alone. ¡°They kidnapped you,¡± I say. ¡°They were plotting to kill your father.¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°That¡¯s what my dad said. They deserved it. It was fine. But it isn¡¯t, is it? Tom Parkins.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, confused, trying to work out what the name means.


    ¡°That was his name. The man I killed. I asked my dad to find out for me. He was married. Two children. Two children who don¡¯t have a father, because of me.¡±


    And there¡¯s my answer. ¡°A bad person,¡± I say, ¡°wouldn¡¯t care about that.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter how sorry I feel, does it?¡±


    ¡°It does. Because if you really feel that way, if you really regret it, then you won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°My dad once told me,¡± he says, ¡°that this is why the compassionate approach doesn¡¯t work. You always empathise with everyone, see the good in them, believe the best of them. And sometimes that blinds you to reality.¡±


    Isn¡¯t that what happened with the Cavendish affair? I saw Mildred as a girl afraid of losing her father, and I didn¡¯t see the lengths to which she¡¯d go to prevent that until it was too late. Lord Blackthorn¡¯s words on the Abbey steps play in my mind: it is a luxury I cannot afford.


    Is he right? Is that the price I¡¯ll have to pay to play the game?


    No. Instinctively, I know he¡¯s wrong. ¡°I¡¯m not blind to your reality. You¡¯re Edward Blackthorn, a boy scared and alone, doing what it takes to survive, and you are not a bad person. I know you, and I know that, as sure as I know anything.¡±


    He closes his eyes and reaches out to me across the table. I take his hand and hold it there.


    ¡°Thank you, Tallulah,¡± he says after a long moment, opening his eyes again. ¡°You understand now?¡±


    ¡°Why Elsie ¨C the fortune-teller ¨C yes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the inaction I can¡¯t stand,¡± he says. ¡°The not being able to fight to stop things like that happening. The powerlessness.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you were okay in the riot,¡± I say. ¡°Because you fought there. You defended me, saved my life.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And earlier¡­ it wouldn¡¯t have been right to tear that tent apart, not without actual evidence that woman was a threat, so I couldn¡¯t act. Maybe I shouldn¡¯t even have threatened to do it, but¡­ it was that or an active episode, I think. And that ¨C that would have destroyed a lot more than just the tent.¡±


    I imagine the fortune-teller crumpling to the ground, collapsing beneath the broken remnants of the tent. I imagine the entire Market turning to chaos and destruction. He¡¯s right.


    ¡°I need to be better than that,¡± he says. ¡°I got lucky this time ¨C no. I didn¡¯t get lucky. I had you with me to talk me down. And Elsie was fine. But I can¡¯t afford an active episode, and I can¡¯t afford to take measures like destroying the tent to prevent it.¡±


    No; he can¡¯t. Not without forever being seen as unstable, losing whatever credibility he has, quite possibly ruining his entire future.


    But I¡¯ve thought that way often enough to realise it doesn¡¯t make anything better. Putting that much pressure on yourself never ends well. I¡¯ve come a long way, these past few months; episodes are much rarer than they used to be now. A large part of why, though, is that I¡¯ve confronted the source of my problems. I¡¯ve got away from Genford, dealt with my mother, found somewhere I belong.


    And maybe that works well enough for my ill-defined ¡°trauma¡±, but Edward can¡¯t directly face his in that way. Not without exposing himself to an awful lot of danger.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I tell him, not knowing what else to say. ¡°We¡¯ll figure it out. Together.¡±


    ¡°My dad still doesn¡¯t know who those people got their orders from,¡± he says.


    And Lord Blackthorn not knowing something is unusual enough to be concerning.


    ¡°Tom Perkins was the leader of the three who were in the warehouse with me. He might have known, if¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I interrupt sharply. ¡°Blaming yourself doesn¡¯t help anything. You made it out alive. That¡¯s what counts.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°You¡¯re right. It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±

 78. Cinnamon and Politics

    We don¡¯t talk much more after that. I don¡¯t know how to help with something like this. Stars, he¡¯s seen me have so many episodes and held me and comforted me and all the while he¡¯s been dealing with that without ever having anyone to help. Except his father, I suppose, but I can¡¯t imagine Lord Blackthorn being the best at emotional support.


    Edward goes to the kitchen for cinnamon bites and brings back a smiling Elspeth with him. She¡¯s pleased to see that I¡¯m so much recovered since last we met.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if I thanked you properly,¡± I reply. ¡°I was distracted by pain ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s quite all right,¡± she says, offering me the plate of cinnamon bites. I take one with a smile and slip it into my mouth. Even knowing they¡¯re enchanted now doesn¡¯t make them any less tempting.


    ¡°Did you tell her about ¨C ¡° Elspeth says to Edward, leaving a meaningful pause at the end of her sentence.


    ¡°I had to. There was an incident earlier today ¨C nothing happened, but I thought it was going to and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You know?¡± I ask, surprised. ¡°I thought ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Of course I knew,¡± Elspeth replies. ¡°I live with them both. I couldn¡¯t help but notice things.¡±


    Lord Blackthorn must trust her, then, really trust her. I wonder what she¡¯s done to earn that trust. There must be quite the story there.


    ¡°You won¡¯t ¨C tell my dad I told her?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°I trust your judgement.¡±


    Over his father¡¯s, she¡¯s implying, at least in this matter. Stars. ¡°Thank you,¡± I repeat. ¡°Really.¡±


    I get the sense that she may be a large part of the reason Edward isn¡¯t even more like his father.


    There isn¡¯t a third seat, so I offer Elspeth mine and perch on the edge of the table. Though the seat is less comfortable, not staring across the table at Edward in a room like this is a relief. We munch our way through the cinnamon bites together in companionable silence.


    ¡°What,¡± I ask finally, ¡°are we going to tell the others?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± says Edward.


    I shake my head. ¡°They know you had a Malaina episode. They know you were terrified something was going to happen to Elsie. They know you fled the scene as soon as we were sure she was safe. And they¡¯re going to have questions.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°This is why I shouldn¡¯t have let you talk me into spending time with other people.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say immediately. ¡°No. That¡¯s not the answer.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t tell them anything ¨C ¡°


    Maybe he could. Maybe I would, in his place. But he doesn¡¯t know any of the other three as well as I do, and I know it was difficult for him even telling me. Even just a partial, carefully edited version might be a step too far.


    And besides he¡¯s not even wrong to be paranoid.


    ¡°You talk to them,¡± he says ¡°You know them. They trust you.¡±


    Am I imagining it, or is there a note of bitterness in his voice? It wouldn¡¯t altogether surprise me if there was. ¡°What do you want me to say? They¡¯re not stupid, any of them. They could probably guess as much as I did, unless we find another way that incident could have caused an episode.¡±


    I feel bad about lying to them when they¡¯ve done nothing to deserve it, but the alternative is worse.


    ¡°Describe this incident to me,¡± says Elspeth. ¡°I might think of something.¡±


    We outline the events at the fortune-teller¡¯s stall between us, taking turns to narrate and filling in details the other has missed.


    ¡°Could it be connected to the idea of prophecy?¡± she suggests.


    Edward grimaces. ¡°It would be plausible, but that would imply¡­ I don¡¯t want the rumour spreading that I¡¯ve had a traumatic encounter with prophecy. That would scare people even more than they¡¯re already scared of me.¡±


    He has a point: if he Fell because an oracle foretold his doom, it wouldn¡¯t exactly encourage people to befriend him. ¡°There wouldn¡¯t be a rumour,¡± I say. ¡°None of them are going to tell anyone ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You can¡¯t just assume that. And what if the conversation is overheard? I need to teach you some basic wardwork, actually, as soon as possible.¡±


    I grimace. In all this drama I¡¯d nearly forgotten the tests starting tomorrow ¨C at least it was an effective distraction, I suppose ¨C but I remember now, and I don¡¯t really want to juggle them with another extra-curricular project of Edward¡¯s if I can help it.


    Though it is probably important for me to learn how to cast privacy wards if I¡¯m going to be the one telling the others something about Edward, even if that something is a lie.


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    ¡°Not prophecy,¡± I say. ¡°Then what?¡±


    ¡°Seeing your friends in danger,¡± Elspeth says. ¡°From what little I know about Malaina, a trigger doesn¡¯t have to be directly related to what caused your Fall. A new traumatic event you experience after Falling could also act as a trigger.¡±


    The same way returning to the library after the active episode I had there was difficult for me, and I¡¯m still a little afraid of hyperspace even now. But why ¨C ¡°The riot,¡± I say, understanding. ¡°The part where I nearly died.¡±


    It¡¯s scary how I can say that with a wry smile now, as if nearly dying is normal.


    ¡°Coming that close to losing a friend must have been quite the traumatic experience,¡± Elspeth agrees thoughtfully. ¡°And when you¡¯re the paranoid sort anyway¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s easy to see threats to your friends that don¡¯t exist,¡± Edward finishes. ¡°Though¡­ that implies Elsie is my friend. That I care about her.¡±


    ¡°I think the way you reacted earlier implies that on its own,¡± I say.


    He closes his eyes and slumps forwards a little. ¡°Stars, it does, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Having friends is a normal thing,¡± I say, smiling a little despite the seriousness of the situation. ¡°It¡¯s not a realisation that should be upsetting.¡±


    Edward smiles back. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ unexpected. But ¨C yes ¨C I do believe that would work. Thank you, Elspeth.¡±


    ¡°My pleasure,¡± she replies. ¡°In exchange, might I have the last cinnamon bite?¡±


    There¡¯s been a single one left on the plate for a while now, and we¡¯ve all been eyeing it longingly for a good couple of minutes.


    ¡°Depends,¡± Edward says. ¡°How quickly can you have another plate here?¡±


    Elspeth laughs. ¡°I am not letting you have another plate ¨C ¡°


    Edward¡¯s hand darts out and hovers over the last cinnamon bite.


    ¡°Are you trying to blackmail me?¡± Elspeth asks.


    I grab the plate and pull it across the table towards me and away from Edward. He could probably have stopped me, if he wanted, but he doesn¡¯t. I consider taking the bite for myself for longer than I should before holding it out to Elspeth.


    She takes it, giving Edward a triumphant smile.


    ¡°I¡¯m surrounded by traitors,¡± he says with a long-suffering air. ¡°Help.¡±


    Edward and I make it out of Blackthorn Manor without encountering his father ¨C unsurprising, since elections are in less than a fortnight. Lord Blackthorn¡¯s seat in Parliament is a hereditary one, and he sits as an independent (¡°because no political party would want someone that unpopular as a member¡±), but the outcome of the election is still extremely relevant to any politician.


    ¡°People are discontented,¡± Edward says as we walk back to the Academy. No-one is paying us any attention, and we¡¯re discussing politics only in the most general terms, so it¡¯s probably safe to have this conversation in public.


    I nod. ¡°The protest, the riot¡­¡± Things have been fairly calm since then, but there¡¯s still tension in the City. I noticed guards patrolling the Market earlier. Edward and I are fairly well insulated from most of it, shut away in the Academy, at least.


    ¡°There¡¯s politicians taking advantage of that. Radicals. Trying to bring down the corrupt system and build something new. That appeals to a lot of people.¡±


    I don¡¯t know enough about politics, I realise. While I¡¯ve picked up quite a bit of political theory in the course of learning history, I¡¯ve paid little attention to the politics of the present. If I really want to change the world, that¡¯s not something I can do any more.


    ¡°Corrupt system,¡± I repeat cautiously. ¡°What exactly does that mean?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Last speech I read from that lot was about how too much of the country¡¯s power is hereditary.¡±


    A third of the seats in Parliament are inherited, not to mention every duchy, earldom and barony in the Kingdom and of course the throne itself. I¡¯m not surprised people are against that concept: history has shown many times that being the child of a ruler doesn¡¯t make you a good ruler yourself.


    ¡°That isn¡¯t going to change easily,¡± I say. Because all those people who inherited power have an interest in keeping it and making sure their children inherit it after them.


    ¡°I know,¡± says Edward. ¡°It would take a revolution. And a revolution won¡¯t succeed.¡±


    ¡°Because of magic,¡± I say. That¡¯s why there hasn¡¯t been a truly successful revolution in the Kingdom¡¯s entire history: magicians are a powerful strategic asset, and most of them ¨C especially the best-trained ones ¨C are loyal to the throne.


    ¡°Because of magic,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°But it would be ugly. It¡¯s been a hundred years since the Kingdom was at war. No-one is prepared for the City to become a battleground.¡±


    I grimace. Even the thought of war in the City makes me feel faintly sick. Especially since as a magician and as a friend of Edward Blackthorn, I would inevitably be caught up in it. Fighting for the King and the way things are.


    And I don¡¯t know whether I¡¯d be fighting on the right side.


    ¡°There won¡¯t actually be a revolution, will there?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Who knows? Probably not. There¡¯s talk of small concessions. Giving the radicals just enough to make them feel that they¡¯re making progress.¡±


    That isn¡¯t public knowledge any more; Edward must have learnt that from his father. ¡°What sort of concessions?¡± I ask as we step into the Central Ring. There¡¯s a small group of protestors huddled together near the gates of the Round Palace, being watched closely by the High Royal Guard. I can¡¯t make out from here what they¡¯re protesting.


    ¡°That¡¯s what no-one can agree on,¡± Edward says. ¡°Strangely, most people seem to be in favour of measures that limit their rivals¡¯ power while leaving their own untouched.¡±


    I wish that surprised me.


    It¡¯s hard to keep up a conversation while making our way across the Central Ring ¨C it¡¯s more crowded than earlier now it¡¯s mid-afternoon ¨C so we don¡¯t talk more until we¡¯ve made it through the Academy gates and signed back in.


    ¡°My dad¡¯s talk about all of this was mostly complaining, I think,¡± Edward continues once we¡¯re safely back inside. ¡°He¡¯s quite the popular target to have his power limited by these concessions, and he¡¯s having to spend a lot of time preventing that that he¡¯d rather devote to actually important things.¡±


    I can¡¯t really find much sympathy for Lord Blackthorn, though I can understand the frustration.


    ¡°And I¡¯ll be the one dealing with that before too long,¡± he adds.


    ¡°¡­what?¡±


    ¡°My dad¡¯s planning to make me his proxy in Parliament in three or four years¡¯ time. Says the experience will be good for me and he¡¯ll be able to use his time more efficiently.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing the idea doesn¡¯t exactly fill you with joy?¡±


    He laughs bitterly. ¡°You could put it that way. But he¡¯s right; I¡¯ll have to learn to deal with politics myself before too long, anyway. Where are we going?¡±


    We¡¯ve climbed one flight of the main staircase without paying attention to our surroundings. ¡°I want to find the others,¡± I say. ¡°They¡¯ll be worried about us. Do you know ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯ll leave you to that,¡± Edward replies. ¡°Do some more wardwork practice. See you later, then?¡±


    I want to tell him not to run away from this, but after everything that¡¯s happened today I think he¡¯s earnt a break from trying to be a normal person. ¡°Guess so.¡±


    He flees upstairs without another word, leaving me to try and guess where Elsie, Elizabeth and Robin are. I¡¯ll probably see them at dinner, or find Robin in our dormitory this evening, but it¡¯s hard to know where they¡¯ll be at this time. They might not have even got back to the Academy yet; I don¡¯t know what they did after Edward and I abandoned them in the Market.


    I¡¯ll just check our usual haunts, I suppose, and if they¡¯re not there we can talk at dinner.

 79. True History

    As it turns out, though, at least two of the trio I¡¯m looking for aren¡¯t too hard to find. Elizabeth and Robin are in our usual study room; Robin is reading while Elizabeth paces up and down. They both glance up as I enter, and I see their relief as they recognise me.


    ¡°Tallulah! You¡¯re okay!¡± Elizabeth says. ¡°Is Edward ¨C ¡°


    ¡°He¡¯s fine,¡± I reply. ¡°Back here. Just feeling more anti-social than normal.¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s even possible,¡± Robin adds, smiling. ¡°Look, I¡¯m sorry if what I said earlier made things worse. I just wasn¡¯t thinking ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I say, though what she said probably did push Edward closer to an active episode. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It¡¯s fine now.¡±


    ¡°That was¡­ Malaina, wasn¡¯t it?¡± Elizabeth says.


    I nod.


    Neither of them asks why, thankfully.


    ¡°Where¡¯s Elsie?¡± I ask after a moment¡¯s silence.


    They both flinch a little at that. ¡°She¡­ she hasn¡¯t been herself, since coming out of that tent,¡± says Elizabeth.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s what the fortune-teller said or what she saw when she came out, but¡­ she was quiet all the way back, even quieter than she usually is, and then she disappeared once we reached the Academy.¡±


    Great. All I need. Because dealing with one traumatised friend isn¡¯t hard enough. I supress the uncharitable thought by reminding myself that Edward and Elsie both helped me when I was the one in need. ¡°Should¡­ should I go and find her?¡± I ask.


    Robin shrugs. ¡°She didn¡¯t want our company, but you get on better with her than we do. I¡¯m not sure where she¡¯d be, anyway. None of us share a dorm with her, and I don¡¯t really want to go poking around there.¡±


    Elizabeth has a private room, due to the age gap between her and the rest of the first-year students. Much as I love my dorm-mates, I¡¯m a little jealous of her for that, but even the Academy isn¡¯t big enough for every single student to have a room to themselves. It¡¯s only for those with special circumstances. Naturally, that includes Edward, not that he spends much time in his room.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say. I¡¯m not sure whether I should go looking for Elsie. She might not want my company, and after the day¡¯s revelations I don¡¯t know if I¡¯m up to another emotionally draining conversation. Stars, this was supposed to be a relaxing day before the tests tomorrow, and now I¡¯m never going to be able to focus on them properly and all my revision will have been for nothing ¨C


    I¡¯m breathing too fast, my heart beating too quickly. I¡¯m not surprised when I channel what¡¯s meant to be a little magic into my enchanted bead and nothing happens. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard.


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t look for Elsie. I feel a stab of guilt at the thought of that, though, and my concentration on the list of kings slips a little. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold. It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m going to be okay. ¡°Sorry about ditching you earlier,¡± I say, calm enough to speak. I try the bead again, but it still doesn¡¯t light up. Timothy the Peacemaker.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you really have any responsibility for that,¡± Robin says, lips twitching in amusement.


    Edward isn¡¯t my responsibility, despite my so-far-unsuccessful attempts to turn him into a somewhat more normal person. ¡°Mm.¡± I agree. Maria the Seafarer.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Elizabeth. ¡°I¡¯m going to get some rest. See you at dinner, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°See you,¡± I agree noncommittally. She and Robin leave the study room, and I realise belatedly that they were only there because they wanted me or Edward to come and find them, to make sure we were okay.


    That thought helps me banish the last traces of the episode, and when I try the bead for the third time it glows a faint starlight-silver. Now I can think clearly, I can decide what to do.


    I should be revising.


    I should be looking for Elsie.


    I should be processing the day¡¯s revelations about Edward.


    I should be learning a few basic wards so I can tell the others the cover story we¡¯ve agreed on.


    I don¡¯t want to do any of those things. I just want to curl up in a ball and hope that if I ignore all those things long enough, they¡¯ll go away. I know from bitter experience that problems do not have a habit of doing that, though.


    The wards, at least, are out for today. I need Edward¡¯s tuition for that if I want it to not take several hours longer than it needs to. And I think he wants to be alone at the moment.


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    I did promise Edward I wouldn¡¯t revise today. And I doubt I could do much in the mood I¡¯m in now. But I need to do something; I also doubt I could properly rest in this state.


    I¡¯ll think. About Edward, about the day¡¯s events, about how I can help him.


    I close the door of the study room behind Elizabeth and Robin, and slump into the nearest chair.


    It¡¯s not that I¡¯m afraid of Edward now, even knowing what he did. I¡¯ve known him long enough to know that he would never hurt me even in the depths of an active episode. And I know that the circumstances of his Fall were extreme enough that with any luck there¡¯ll never be a second episode that strong.


    But it would also be a lie to say it changes nothing. You can¡¯t quite look at someone in the same way once you know they¡¯ve killed someone. And he¡¯d do it again, so he says, if he thought it necessary. I guess I always knew Edward had that ruthless streak ¨C the coldly analytical way he talks sometimes makes it clear ¨C but there¡¯s a difference between objectively knowing something and really understanding it emotionally.


    Why are people all so contradictory? It feels like half the people I know are actually two completely different people at once, and I don¡¯t know how to deal with it.


    I try to put myself in Edward¡¯s position. Alone, helpless, knowing that my father and I are in danger because of me. Knowing that it¡¯s a choice between letting that unfold and ¨C well, Falling. Unleashing Malaina, knowing the consequences.


    I remember suddenly that exchange between Edward and Electra on my first day at the Academy.


    If it¡¯s a choice between that and death ¨C Edward suggested. I thought nothing of it at the time, more struck by Electra¡¯s response, but now I know that he was faced with exactly that choice, and he did not choose death as Electra instructed.


    Stars, when I met him it must have been only a handful of days since that, and he seemed fine. I never would have guessed what he¡¯d just been through back then.


    I don¡¯t know what to do now. He wouldn¡¯t want my pity, and I can¡¯t truly understand what he must have felt in that moment. I guess I just have to keep being his friend, keep being there. That¡¯s all I can do, really. I hope it¡¯s enough.


    It might take me a while to fully process what I¡¯ve learnt, but I feel a little better already. Now I just need to track down Elsie. Or I could wait until dinner; there¡¯s plenty of time left in the day, and maybe then she¡¯ll be more findable.


    And in the meantime, I can ¨C oh. I haven¡¯t even started reading the True History of the Thalian Crisis Electra let me borrow. I buried it at the bottom of my trunk and told myself I couldn¡¯t read it until tests were over, but by then there¡¯ll only be a week before the Holy Days break, and we¡¯re not allowed to keep Academy library books over the holidays.


    ¡°Tallulah? Are you there?¡±


    ¡­but the Prince of Thalia did not yet comprehend the full implications of¡­ ¡°Yes?¡± I say, pulling back the curtains that surround my bed.


    ¡°It¡¯s six and ten,¡± says Robin. ¡°Are you coming to dinner?¡±


    Oh. Dinner. Yes, that is what normally happens at this sort of time. Wait: six and ten? Has it really been three hours? I know I often lose track of time when I¡¯m reading, but¡­ the stiffness of my neck from the way I¡¯ve been sitting bent over the book hits me suddenly. Yeah. It probably has been three hours. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°Sorry. I was reading, and I lost track of time.¡±


    Robin laughs. ¡°That does not surprise me. Anything good?¡±


    ¡°Some history thing,¡± I say, trying to sound casual. ¡°Probably wouldn¡¯t interest you.¡±


    Much to my despair, Elsie remains the only one of my friends with the slightest interest in history. I¡¯m technically not lying, I guess, but it feels like a lie nonetheless.


    ¡°You¡¯re probably right,¡± Robin agrees, much to my relief. ¡°Anyway. I guess I should wait for you to come down with me. Just in case you get more distracted.¡±


    I give her a teasing glare, but swing myself out of bed and shut the True History in my trunk. ¡°Let¡¯s go, then.¡±


    Elizabeth is the only one waiting for us in the dining hall. Edward was here just long enough to notice I was missing and send Robin to look for me, apparently, but then disappeared before he could be drawn into a conversation. And Elizabeth found Elsie, who says she¡¯s fine but not hungry.


    I¡¯ve learnt my lesson about skipping meals by now, more or less, so I¡¯m a little concerned by that. Especially since Elsie normally has a keen appetite.


    I¡¯m still too deeply buried in the True History to be properly worried about her, or to really engage in conversation, so I mostly just half-listen to Robin and Elizabeth making small talk. Elizabeth notices my withdrawal after a while and asks if I¡¯m okay.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I say. ¡°Just buried in a book.¡±


    ¡°Of course you are,¡± Elizabeth replies, smiling. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever give yourself a break?¡±


    I don¡¯t think she realises that for me, losing myself in a history book is a break.


    I make myself stay until everyone has finished eating rather than gobbling down my food and immediately dashing off to get back to the True History. I can¡¯t teach Edward to socialise if I¡¯m failing to do it myself, can I?


    So it¡¯s just gone seven after noon by the time I return to the dormitory and the True History. I can¡¯t stay up too late reading, though: I need to sleep well before the tests start tomorrow. It¡¯s already dark, so I cast a light-spell to read by and make myself comfortable.


    Inevitably, when I come to the end of a chapter and think to check the time, it¡¯s almost midnight.


    See, says a little voice in my mind that sounds awfully like my mother¡¯s, this is why you¡¯re not doing better. Just think what you¡¯d be capable of if you could just focus on your studies the way you do on those history books of yours.


    She told me things like that more than once while I was at Genford.


    And maybe she¡¯s right, because despite all my good resolutions it looks as if I¡¯ll be going into the tests sleep-deprived and head full of history and worry for my friends, which is not how you succeed.


    I¡¯m not surprised to feel my breathing quickening, my heart beating a little faster. My light-spell is brighter than it should be, bright enough it might wake the others despite my curtains if I don¡¯t stop it. I dismiss the spell quickly. The loss of light makes me feel a little more on edge.


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I reach into my pocket for the enchanted bead, but I know it won¡¯t light up for me right now.


    Simon the Drunkard. The silence of the night lets me hear my breathing as I force it to slow. Thomas the Defender.


    It takes me until Maria the Seafarer to gain a new silver light this time. Now I just need to sleep. I should probably change first, but that would disturb the others. And the enforced calm of a just-passed Malaina episode is a sleep-like state, which would be disturbed by making my way to the bathroom.


    I settle for kicking off my shoes, returning the True History to the trunk with a little reluctance, and curling up beneath the covers. I¡¯m asleep quickly.

 80. The Morning Before

    I hoped I¡¯d sleep later than normal after that, but my body has other ideas. I¡¯m wide awake by six and fifteen after midnight. That is not enough sleep to function effectively. I lie on my bed, eyes closed, willing myself to go back to sleep for another hour, but half that time passes without any success and I give up shortly before seven.


    Now I have two hours until the first test, and it¡¯ll take me a lot less than that to dress and get breakfast. How am I going to fill the rest of that time? I could ¨C I force myself not to reach into my trunk for the True History. Based on yesterday, doing that would quite likely lead to me missing the first test altogether. And we¡¯re starting with Countering Magical Effects, as well: whatever Electra sets us will not be easy.


    Edward will be at breakfast. He¡¯ll think of something to distract me without being too distracting. I wash and change out of my slept-in clothes quietly and make my escape from the dormitory.


    He¡¯s in his usual place, reading the papers as usual. I get my porridge and join him.


    ¡°Morning,¡± he says.


    ¡°Morning. Anything interesting in the news?¡± Or anything too interesting, for that matter.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Not really. The usual gossip about the High Princess. And ¨C have you heard of Ariana Carling?¡±


    I think for a second before shaking my head.


    ¡°Nor have I,¡± says Edward. ¡°And yet she¡¯s just been elected leader of the United Reformist Party.¡±


    The URP are the largest Parliamentary faction of the ¡°radicals¡± Edward was talking about yesterday. They hold about sixty of the two hundred and fifty elected seats but are apparently predicted to take many more in the upcoming elections, and it¡¯s likely that their new leader will have much influence in the next Parliament.


    ¡°An unknown factor,¡± I say.


    Edward nods. ¡°The papers have all been scrambling to find out all about her. Here ¨C ¡° He hands me a copy of the Herald, open to a page describing what¡¯s known about Ariana Carling. There isn¡¯t much to note: she¡¯s only just thirty and worked as a secretary to the URP before entering politics in her own right.


    That¡¯s about it other than her speech to the URP after the leadership election, which makes it clear that she¡¯s certainly ambitious and radical.


    ¡°If she¡¯s hiding something, my dad will find it,¡± Edward says flatly. ¡°I¡¯m not sure she is, though ¨C that speech seems like she¡¯s a genuine believer in her cause at least.¡±


    ¡°As opposed to¡­¡±


    ¡°Someone in the pay of a more established faction, twisting the radical agenda to suit their own purposes.¡±


    Of course. I don¡¯t know what else I expected.


    Politics proves to be an effective distraction, and over the next hour or so I expand my knowledge of the current state of affairs.


    Elsie joins us at eight after midnight. Well, she tries to avoid us, but I wave conspicuously enough that she can¡¯t pretend she hasn¡¯t seen us.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about yesterday,¡± she says, sitting down next to me. ¡°If I¡¯d known that ¨C well ¨C I wouldn¡¯t have done it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± says Edward carefully. ¡°And it¡¯s okay. You had no way of knowing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re both okay, then? When you disappeared straight after, I was worried ¨C ¡°


    ¡°We¡¯re fine,¡± I assure her. ¡°Just¡­ Edward needed to be ¨C ¡° alone with me, is the end of that sentence, but I realise before saying it that it carries quite the wrong implications. ¡°And you? Elizabeth said you were out of sorts afterwards.¡±


    Elsie shrugs. ¡°I just felt bad about what happened with Edward. You¡¯re right, I had no way of knowing, but I should have at least checked with you all that it was okay. I¡¯d never forgive myself if ¨C if something had happened because of that.¡±


    That¡¯s all true, I know, but I¡¯ve told enough half-truths to recognise that overly casual tone. There¡¯s more to it than that. It must be whatever the fortune-teller said or did in that tent. Still, this is hardly the time for an interrogation even if I want to push her to talk about it, so I let it go for now.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± she says. ¡°Feeling ready for today?¡±


    I wince. My goal is to get through the tests without an active episode, and preferably pass everything. And I¡¯m still not convinced I can accomplish that. ¡°¡­ish?¡± I try.


    ¡°Please, Tallulah. You¡¯ll be fine. You¡¯re so much more prepared than I am. I feel like I barely know half of what we¡¯ve covered so far.¡±


    I feel much the same way, actually, and the fact I¡¯ve somehow persuaded Elsie I¡¯m prepared doesn¡¯t help.


    Edward doesn¡¯t dignify Elsie¡¯s question with an answer. ¡°Maybe we shouldn¡¯t talk about the tests now,¡± he says. ¡°Let¡¯s at least forget about them for one last hour. Tallulah and I were just discussing the King¡¯s Party¡¯s prospects for the upcoming elections.¡±


    I realise that I may not be much more normal than Edward, if I think talk of politics is a pleasant distraction from worry about the tests. Elsie¡¯s expression suggests that she disagrees with me on that.


    ¡°I don¡¯t follow politics,¡± she says. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know.¡±


    ¡°Well, you must at least be planning to vote for one party or another ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t turn sixteen until spring. Not eligible.¡±


    That rather puts a halt to Edward¡¯s attempt at conversation.


    ¡°So you¡¯re the only one of us who can actually vote,¡± I say in an attempt to resume it. ¡°Who are you voting for?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°King¡¯s Party.¡±


    His dad is a member, if only because nearly all the hereditary seats are considered members of the King¡¯s Party unless they or the King declare otherwise. That makes it a broad coalition which is nearly always in government but has a lot more difficulty agreeing on policy than any other party.


    The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    ¡°Edward Blackthorn, a loyal royalist,¡± Elsie says teasingly. ¡°Who¡¯d have thought?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the heir of a Royal Magician. I can hardly be anything else. No sensible King would let someone not loyal to them be their advisor.¡±


    After all, the King does have the power to strip even the Blackthorns of their titles and influence. It¡¯s strange, though: he must have a decent working relationship with Lord Blackthorn, and yet I can¡¯t imagine the latter taking orders from anyone.


    Hannah and Aisha join us. They¡¯re quizzing each other on counterspells. I know the answers to their questions, but it still makes me worried. The rest of our classmates trickle in over the next few minutes.


    Today is the practical Countering Magical Effects test. Electra wants to test each of us individually, and each of my classmates has a five-minute timeslot. It¡¯s in alphabetical order, so my test will be one of the last. I want to leave the dining hall ¨C being there is not helping my stress levels at all ¨C but it feels awkward to abandon everyone else.


    Instead I reach into my pocket and focus on channelling magic into the enchanted bead. I¡¯m surprised to see it light up; I feel on the edge of an episode, but maybe I¡¯m okay. I force myself to breathe slowly and sink into the trance-like state of working magic. I don¡¯t need to for simple channelling by now, but there¡¯s comfort in losing yourself to the flow.


    I understand why Electra warned against drawing too deep from your magic.


    ¡°Well,¡± says Hannah, standing up, a couple of minutes before nine. ¡°If I don¡¯t come back, I¡¯m leaving my white dress to Aisha and would like to be remembered to my family.¡±


    We all laugh, though it¡¯s more out of nervousness than because what she said is funny. She sets off with the air of a condemned woman. I¡¯m not surprised. If there¡¯s one thing worse than being tested on your magical ability for the first time, it¡¯s being tested on your magical ability for the first time by Electra.


    Edward is next, a few minutes later. He¡¯s been trying to fade into the background since more people arrived, and I think a lot of people had forgotten he was there. ¡°If I don¡¯t come back,¡± he says, ¡°Tallulah knows the contingency plans.¡±


    I don¡¯t know any contingency plans for Edward not coming back from a test ¨C oh. This is his idea of a joke, isn¡¯t it? Very funny, Edward.


    I¡¯m even less amused when neither Hannah nor Edward return to the dining hall within ten minutes of leaving. Electra probably told them not to talk to us, to avoid spoiling whatever was on the test. Or maybe she told them not to talk to us so we¡¯re suitably terrified. If that¡¯s the case, I think it¡¯s working.


    ¡°I hate my surname,¡± mutters Robin, when there¡¯s only her, me and Daniel left.


    She¡¯ll have to wait the longest of anyone, so I¡¯m not surprised. Though there¡¯s a more bitter note than I expected there. Didn¡¯t Edward once say she wasn¡¯t on the best of terms with her family? I wonder what the story is there; does it have to do with whatever Mildred did to her?


    I glance at the clock again. Three minutes until my timeslot. I stand reluctantly. If I don¡¯t come back has become a running joke whenever one of us leaves, but I haven¡¯t been thinking of a good line. I¡¯ve been too busy channelling magic and trying not to have a Malaina episode.


    I could leave my history books to Elsie, but she also hasn¡¯t come back. And tell my parents I love them doesn¡¯t feel quite right given recent events. ¡°If I don¡¯t come back¡­ remember me,¡± I say. ¡°And preferably not just as that one weird Malaina girl.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll remember you as that one weird history geek instead,¡± says Robin.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say sarcastically, and set off for the Countering Magical Effects classroom.


    I arrive one minute early. There¡¯s no sound from inside the room, even though Aisha should still be there. Of course Electra has warded the classroom specifically for this. I pace back and forth along the corridor, channelling more magic into the bead. It still lights up, somehow. Is this careful control a way to avoid a Malaina episode? I should do it more often.


    Precisely on time, the door swings open. Aisha emerges. She doesn¡¯t appear to be crying, which is a good sign, but there¡¯s definitely tension in her and she barely reacts to my ¡°How was it?¡±


    Electra is waiting in the doorway, holding the door open behind me. ¡°Hello, Tallulah,¡± she says, smiling. ¡°Do come in.¡± Is it just me, or is her lipstick a shade redder than normal? How has Edward ever managed to be in the same room as her without having a Malaina episode?


    I slip the bead back into my pocket, my fingers releasing it reluctantly, and step into the classroom. No monsters jump out from the shadows and no traps are sprung, but Electra does shut the door with a faintly ominous click.


    ¡°Sit down,¡± she says.


    I cross the room to my usual desk and sit.


    She follows me, and places a fist-sized cube of wood on the desk in front of me. ¡°Identify and remove the enchantment on this object. You have two minutes. You may not use any detection devices you may have on your person.¡±


    I supress a laugh at that last sentence. I have a feeling I know who made it necessary. That¡¯s not important right now. I need to focus. Most enchantments can be removed by a purging-spell, but the requirement to identify it first makes that less of an option.


    I should probably make sure it is enchanted before anything else, since Electra would absolutely give me a perfectly mundane cube of wood and watch me suffer through trying to find its enchantment. That divination spell is one I know well, at least. I cast it and discover that if there¡¯s a trick to this assignment, it isn¡¯t quite that obvious: the cube is enchanted.


    There¡¯s only a handful of other divination spells I know that would be useful in this situation. The one that springs to mind, though, isn¡¯t one we¡¯ve learnt in class: it¡¯s one Edward taught me while I was learning to enchant my bead. It detects whether an object is drawing in magic from the ambience. Knowing that would narrow down a lot of possibilities.


    But if it wasn¡¯t taught in class, it can¡¯t be the expected method. And besides we¡¯re not supposed to teach ourselves spells outside of class. Then again, Electra tacitly allowed Edward to do it on our first day here. She probably already knows he¡¯s dragged me into extra-curricular magic. And she didn¡¯t say anything about which spells we should use.


    I cast the divination spell. Electra watches me curiously and scribbles a note, but says nothing. The cube isn¡¯t drawing magic from the ambience. That means either it¡¯s a permanent enchantment that doesn¡¯t require magic to sustain itself, or it¡¯s activated by channelling magic into it.


    I lift the cube and examine it from all angles, trying to work out whether it has any anomalous properties that would give a clue about the enchantment active on it. No such luck: it seems a perfectly ordinary cube of wood in every respect.


    It¡¯s been nearly a minute, and I¡¯ve made very little progress.


    It¡¯s a test set by Electra. I shouldn¡¯t expect it to be straightforward. I have to stay calm, stay focused, keep trying things. I try channelling a little magic into the cube, but even losing myself in the flow a little gives me nothing. It¡¯s not too hard to tell when an object responds to your channelling; the flow is so much quicker, more natural. It could be that there¡¯s only a particular point on the cube where channelling would work, though. I turn the cube over in my hands, pressing my fingers to different points and focusing on the flow of magic. There¡¯s no reaction.


    Most likely a permanent enchantment, then, but I haven¡¯t ruled out the possibility it¡¯s something like my bead that only activates if magic is channelled in the right way.


    ¡°Thirty seconds left,¡± Electra says, smiling a little.


    Probably a permanent enchantment. Has no evident effect, but then a permanent enchantment wouldn¡¯t most of the time. I run my hands over the cube again, trying to feel something, anything, that isn¡¯t just what¡¯s expected. Nothing.


    Should I just cast a purging-spell? Would Electra give me more credit for removing the enchantment even if I can¡¯t identify it, or would admitting defeat like that see me lose marks?


    I don¡¯t have time to freeze in indecision like that. My hands are shaking, stars help me, and I doubt that the bead would light up if I tried it now. I take a couple of breaths and reach for the familiar calm I need to cast. It takes me three attempts to cast the purging-spell. I know it well; I can normally get it first try. And now that I¡¯m being graded on my performance ¨C


    I cut that thought off before it gets any further. Yeah, this is definitely the start of an episode. I can¡¯t do anything more with this assignment in the twelve seconds I have left, though, so I take them to close my eyes and focus on breathing and kings. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas ¨C


    ¡°And that¡¯s time up,¡± Electra says, scooping the cube off the table and slipping it into a pocket. ¡°Your next task ¨C ¡° she raises a hand, and five paper birds soar up from her desk at the front of the classroom ¨C ¡°is to bring down these birds. You have one minute.¡±

 81. Electras Test

    Stars. I don¡¯t know how ¨C I can¡¯t ¨C


    Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold. I¡¯m using precious seconds. Electra is holding the birds aloft with a spell; the most efficient way to break an ongoing spell is to break the caster¡¯s concentration, but I get the sense that making Electra lose concentration will not be easy.


    Other methods, then. There¡¯s the General Counterspell; despite its name it is not a true counterspell. It instead absorbs large amounts of magical energy in a short period and releases it into the ambience; it¡¯s often used as a combat spell to shut down an enemy¡¯s attacks. Could I use it here? It would be much more effective if the spell were still being cast; now the spell is activated maintaining it takes negligible amounts of magic.


    If I could touch the birds, I could purge the magic from them or destroy them, but they¡¯re flying in tight horizontal loops close to the ceiling. How am I supposed to ¨C oh.


    I get to my feet, pull off my cardigan and check there¡¯s nothing in my pockets, then cast a General Animation Spell and send it directly upwards until it¡¯s in the path of the birds. The first of them to reach it tries to swerve out of the way, but with a thought I twist the fabric to block its path and wrap around it, then bring the cardigan back down.


    The bird tries to escape as soon as I unwrap the fabric, but I snatch it before it can fly and cast a quick purging-spell. One down, four to go.


    I get three more birds the same way, but the last one is harder, I think because Electra can give more of her concentration to it now that the others are gone. I¡¯d laugh at the absurdity of trying to pin a paper bird against the ceiling with a flying cardigan contorted into increasingly weird shapes if I weren¡¯t so intent on just getting the stupid thing down.


    But by the time I finally have it entangled, there¡¯s no time to summon the cardigan back down and purge the last of the spell. Well, four out of five isn¡¯t that bad, I suppose; at least it¡¯s better than the previous test.


    Electra doesn¡¯t give me time to smooth out my cardigan and wriggle back into it before announcing the next task. ¡°I am going to cast spells at you. Your task is to counter them until I say you may stop. Begin.¡±


    She¡¯s casting straight away. I don¡¯t know what to expect, so I try a General Counterspell. But I¡¯m too slow: before I can get out the incantation, I feel a surge of dizziness and have to cling to the table to stay upright. It passes as swiftly as it came. So that¡¯s the trick, then: each missed spell makes it harder for you to get the next one.


    And by the time I¡¯ve had that realisation, the next dizziness-spell hits me. This time I grit my teeth and focus on Electra, beginning to cast the second I¡¯m able to let go of the table. Nothing happens, which means I must have succeeded.


    I¡¯m so pleasantly surprised by that that I completely forget to keep casting and another wave of dizziness attacks me. The effects are starting to build up, but I push through it and manage another counterspell, and another, and another, and ¨C as I¡¯m in the middle of casting the fourth counterspell, the dizziness hits me again. She must have switched up her timing, cast just as my third counterspell was fading and before I had time to replace it.


    Is there a better method, then? Something that will consistently block spells rather than rely on me having to second-guess Electra to time my counterspells correctly? If I could cast faster it would be doable, but I haven¡¯t drilled myself to the extent you¡¯d need to for magical combat and thus to have a chance against Electra.


    There isn¡¯t time to analyse strategy, though. I keep casting counterspells, watching Electra as I do so. Does she have a tell of some sort, something that lets me predict her timing before it¡¯s too late? Almost certainly not anything I¡¯d be capable of spotting, but better to try than to just resign myself to the occasional attack of dizziness.


    ¡°You may stop,¡± says Electra finally. I cast another counterspell anyway, partly out of reflex and partly because Electra would definitely attack again after saying that for her own amusement. She isn¡¯t casting, though, just watching me with one of her cryptic smiles. ¡°That is the end of the assessment. Please don¡¯t talk to any of your classmates who have yet to take it.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. I turn to leave, slinging my somewhat battered cardigan over one shoulder, and discover that enough of the dizziness-spells have lingered that I struggle to walk in a straight line. Stars help me. No wonder Aisha wouldn¡¯t talk to me after her own test; she was too focused on just walking normally.


    I make it out of the classroom with more effort than should have been necessary, give Daniel a sympathetic smile as I pass him, and collapse against the wall outside.


    Why did I ever decide that Electra wasn¡¯t as bad as she seems, when she inflicts that on her students? I have no sense of how well I did, whether I disappointed her, whether any of the three tasks were even supposed to be possible. I¡¯m used to tests where you generally have at least some sense of how it went, where there¡¯s a right answer that you¡¯re expected to reach.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I drag myself to my feet; I don¡¯t want Daniel to see me lying helplessly here. I¡¯m still wondering where to go when Edward intercepts me at the main staircase. ¡°Well,¡± he says, ¡°how did you find it?¡±


    I give him a look.


    ¡°Sounds about right. If it¡¯s any consolation, she definitely tailored the difficulty according to our abilities.¡±


    From which I deduce that he struggled with her tasks.


    ¡°So I was supposed to find it hard,¡± I say instead of pointing that out.


    Edward nods. ¡°I¡¯d be more concerned if you found it easy. That would mean she thought you weren¡¯t worth the effort of challenging you.¡±


    He understands how Electra thinks better than I do. Not a surprise, really.


    ¡°Ten minutes until Magical Theory,¡± he says.


    ¡°Lucky you, not having to sit that one.¡±


    The Advanced Magical Theory class he¡¯s taking doesn¡¯t have a test this term; Edward¡¯s grade in that will be determined solely by the final exam in late spring. He shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s not too hard.¡±


    ¡°Not too hard for you, or for the rest of us?¡±


    ¡°For me, but you should be fine if you can recover in the next ten minutes.¡±


    I feel another stab of pity for Robin, who will have barely any time between stumbling dizzy and confused out of Electra¡¯s test and the start of the next one. Taking Edward out of the equation, though, she¡¯s easily the best in the class at Magical Theory.


    Ten minutes is an awkward chunk of time: long enough that I can¡¯t go straight to the Magical Theory classroom and wait outside, but short enough that there isn¡¯t time to do anything else first. I reach into my pocket for the enchanted bead and then stop myself. I¡¯m not anywhere near a Malaina episode at the moment; my success against the paper birds saved me from the episode during the test.


    I¡¯m just longing for the comfort of losing myself in the flow of magic.


    And I know just enough about magic to know that that is a very dangerous longing to have. One of our early Magical Theory lessons discussed the dangers of drawing too deep in much detail. Humans are imperfect vessels for magic, and acting as a vessel too much can cause irreparable damage. Edward told me a few horror stories to reinforce that message.


    I remove my hand from my pocket and let it fall awkwardly by my side. So that¡¯s not how I¡¯ll be spending my ten minutes.


    ¡°Charles First-King.¡±


    I blink. I¡¯m not the one saying that; I¡¯m fine right now, I don¡¯t need ¨C


    ¡°Edwin the Just,¡± recites Edward, smiling. ¡°Simon the Drunkard.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I say. ¡°And since when ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Since I realised it was important to you,¡± Edward says. ¡°I¡¯ve memorised the first five centuries so far. It¡¯ll probably only take me a day more to learn the whole thing.¡±


    It took me a lot longer than that to memorise the list, even if I was nine years old at the time. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say. ¡°Really. Does this mean I need to learn a list of spell classifications or something?¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°No. Lists don¡¯t work so well for me, I¡¯ve realised. I think because for me, it¡¯s more external threats that cause episodes, most of the time.¡±


    So he needs to take action, or feel that he¡¯s taking action, to mitigate those threats. Hence the ten minutes yesterday.


    I hear footsteps in the corridor, and realise suddenly that Edward and I are standing close together, closer than would be natural for two people who aren¡¯t completely content with the other¡¯s company.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Daniel as he approaches. ¡°How was ¨C oh. Am I interrupting something?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No, you¡¯re not.¡±


    But it¡¯s too late; he passes us and sets off upstairs.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± says Edward.


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± I say reflexively. It kind of is, though. If Edward was prepared to tell Robin why he¡¯s never going to be interested in her, then I wouldn¡¯t have to half-pretend we¡¯re dating, and moments like this would be far less awkward.


    He knows that too.


    ¡°We should go,¡± I say after a pause. ¡°Or I should, anyway.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll walk with you to the classroom,¡± says Edward.


    I don¡¯t need him to, but I appreciate it anyway.


    The Magical Theory test is considerably more normal than the previous one, which is a relief. That doesn¡¯t make it easy, of course: I¡¯m not in the right frame of mind for calculation, and I make far too many careless mistakes. There¡¯s enough time allowed that I¡¯m able to track down and fix all but a couple of them, at least. And I do understand how to do every question.


    ¡°It could have been a lot worse,¡± is how I summarise it to Elsie, Elizabeth and Robin as we set off for the caf¨¦ to enjoy a short break before the next test begins. Well, I say ¡°enjoy¡±, but the next test is the Spells practical. And if Electra tailored the difficulty of her test to each student, Felicity could very well change the difficulty of hers.


    So it doesn¡¯t matter how well-prepared I am. I¡¯m not sure I can figure out new casting techniques on the spot like I did in her lesson again. And while Edward has assured me that we can report her if she asks anything not on the Academy¡¯s syllabus, there¡¯s plenty of ways to set questions that are technically legal but beyond what would be expected of most students.


    He¡¯ll be fine, of course, because he¡¯s Edward Blackthorn. I have no such luck. There is a very real risk that I will fail this test. I¡¯m honestly more worried about the possibility of having a Malaina episode during it.


    By unspoken agreement, the four of us discuss the test we just completed rather than the upcoming one.


    ¡°I did a lot better than I expected,¡± says Elsie. ¡°Still not great, but I¡¯m fairly sure I passed at least. Thanks, Tallulah.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I deserve that much credit for her success and improvement; she earnt it herself through hard work and dedication.


    Elizabeth shrugs. ¡°I couldn¡¯t work out the enchantment formulation in question six, but everything else was okay. I think so, anyway.¡±


    ¡°It was fine,¡± says Robin. Which I think means she¡¯s confident she got a perfect score. She doesn¡¯t see the need to show everyone how good at magic she is. I like that; it¡¯s a refreshing change from Edward¡¯s casual brilliance sometimes. ¡°I still remember the formulation if you want it, Elizabeth?¡±


    Elizabeth shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s fine. It doesn¡¯t bother me that much, I¡¯ll find out when we get the tests back.¡±

 82. Felicitys Test

    ¡°Can we talk about something else?¡± Elsie asks.


    It would do all of us good to be distracted from the tests. But as soon as I have that thought I remember that our last attempt to distract ourselves ended by creating new tension and awkwardness. I¡¯d much rather talk about the tests than about yesterday.


    ¡°Such as?¡± asks Robin.


    ¡°¡­the weather is nice today?¡± Elsie tries.


    That breaks the tension, and we all laugh.


    ¡°Seriously?¡± Elizabeth asks. ¡°The best you can come up with is the weather?¡±


    ¡°Look. Her and Edward went with politics this morning. That¡¯s definitely worse.¡±


    ¡°There are more interesting things you can say about politics than about the weather,¡± I say in my defence.


    ¡°Politics is not small talk.¡±


    ¡°Are we looking for small talk?¡± Robin asks. ¡°Or are we looking for a conversation deep and meaningful enough to distract us? I don¡¯t know. What do normal girls talk about?¡±


    ¡°Boys they like?¡± Elsie suggests innocently.


    Elizabeth, Robin and I all wince. I really do not want to have to actively keep up the pretence that Edward and I are dating. Robin obviously doesn¡¯t want to talk about her crush on a boy who¡¯s supposedly in a relationship with her friend. Elizabeth I¡¯m not sure about, though.


    ¡°We can talk about boys you like,¡± I suggest.


    ¡°It¡¯s not fair if I¡¯m the only one doing it, though. The point is that we all get to tease each other.¡±


    That is probably how normal girls do those things.


    ¡°Fashion?¡± tries Elizabeth. ¡°I¡¯m not really interested in it, but ¨C ¡°


    The expressions on our faces make it very clear that none of us have been hiding an interest in fashion.


    ¡°At least two of us like history,¡± I try.


    Robin rolls her eyes. ¡°I am not talking about your Thalian Crisis of the Year Whatever-it-was ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Nine hundred,¡± Elsie interrupts. ¡°Wait, did you just imply Tallulah has a copy of the True History ¨C ¡°


    Oops. I probably should have expected her to notice the title, even if she wasn¡¯t aware of its significance. And Elsie knows enough history that she is aware of its significance.


    ¡°¡­yeah, I guess,¡± says Robin. ¡°Why does that matter?¡±


    ¡°Copies of that book are destroyed on sight in Thalia, and its sale or loan is really tightly regulated even in Rasin. How in stars¡¯ names ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward gave it to her,¡± says Robin, ¡°presumably.¡±


    Oh. That would be the conclusion she jumped to, wouldn¡¯t it? I guess it¡¯s better than them finding out that it was Electra, and that I¡¯m still not entirely convinced that wasn¡¯t an elaborate plot to get Edward and I into trouble. ¡°¡­maybe,¡± I say, technically not lying.


    ¡°Never mind that,¡± Elsie says, ¡°can I borrow it?¡±


    ¡°Um,¡± I say. The Academy¡¯s library books are clearly labelled, so it¡¯ll be clear to Elsie where the True History came from once she gets a closer look. ¡°I would, but¡­ I¡¯m not exactly supposed to have it. We could get in trouble.¡±


    I realise belatedly that we¡¯re having this conversation in a public caf¨¦ with not a privacy ward in sight. ¡°Please don¡¯t tell anyone?¡± I say. I¡¯ll just have to hope no-one was paying any attention to us.


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± says Elizabeth. Robin nods.


    ¡°Nor will I. I can keep secrets, Tallulah, I won¡¯t let anyone know. Please?¡±


    She looks at me as if she were a puppy. I¡¯m not yet sufficiently ruthless that I¡¯m capable of refusing a look like that.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°After tests, and once I¡¯ve finished with it.¡±


    She breaks into a delighted smile. I feel a stab of guilt. I¡¯ll have to tell her where the book really came from, then. It¡¯s not that much of a problem, just¡­ complicated to explain.


    ¡°I wish someone would get me restricted books,¡± she says wistfully.


    It takes me a few moments to parse the implications of that statement, and when I do it makes me a lot less reluctant to explain. I want to see the look on her face when she realises she just implied that Electra and I are ¨C


    Yeah, I don¡¯t want to go there.


    Somehow, that break actually helps me to recover, but it ends far too soon. It¡¯s raining when we¡¯re ready to leave the caf¨¦, which feels appropriate for our collective mood. At least Edward isn¡¯t here to cast a rain-shield and look insufferably smug about the fact he¡¯s not getting as soaked as we are. Robin is probably capable of it, but if she is she¡¯s content to suffer with the rest of us.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that far a walk,¡± says Elizabeth, as we huddle in the doorway. ¡°And we don¡¯t want to be late.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t mind missing this test altogether, but not showing up is an automatic fail. ¡°Yeah,¡± I say, staring out into the rain. ¡°It¡¯s not pouring, either.¡±


    Am I imagining it, or does the rain intensify as I say that? I should have known better than to tempt fate.


    ¡°You two go first, then,¡± says Elsie. ¡°If you¡¯re so convinced it¡¯s okay.¡±


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    ¡°Delaying won¡¯t make it any better,¡± Elizabeth says firmly, fixing her gaze on the distant blurry shape of the main Academy building.


    ¡°It might ease off, though.¡±


    We laugh a little at her optimism.


    ¡°Okay, then,¡± Elizabeth insists. ¡°The three of us ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t drag me into this,¡± Robin protests.


    ¡°The three of us are going now. If you¡¯d rather stay here and risk being late, you¡¯re welcome to.¡± And she steps out into the rain and marches ahead.


    That must be her military discipline talking. I¡¯m thankful for it, in a way: if she weren¡¯t there, I could have very easily talked myself into staying where it¡¯s nice and warm and dry and I don¡¯t have a horrible teacher waiting for me with a horrible test. That is, unfortunately, not an option.


    It only takes a minute or two, and the rain hasn¡¯t even had time to fully soak through my clothes by the time we make it inside. We wipe our damp shoes on the doormat, not wanting to incur the wrath of Miss Carr by tracking footprints all over her beautiful clean floors.


    We¡¯re two minutes early for the test by the time we¡¯ve climbed the stairs. Everyone except Jake is already waiting outside.


    ¡°Lovely weather out there,¡± says Hannah, giving us a look up and down.


    ¡°Delightful,¡± I agree, deadpan. ¡°I¡¯d have loved to stay out there longer.¡± It¡¯s not even that far from the truth: getting soaked seems more pleasant than this would be. At least my dread remains vague and ill-defined rather than turning into a Malaina episode. For now. I resist the urge to check with my enchanted bead and just close my eyes and breathe, trying to ignore my classmates¡¯ nervous chatter.


    At precisely eleven-thirty, the door swings open. ¡°Come in, everyone,¡± says Felicity. ¡°Do try not to get my classroom wet.¡±


    We¡¯re not wet enough to drip everywhere, so I take that in the spirit it¡¯s intended as an insult. The class troops inside to discover that Felicity is not alone. A dozen or so people are gathered in the classroom, standing in front of each desk. They¡¯re all about twenty or thirty, and most of them are wearing magician¡¯s robes. I recognise Rosie in one corner; she waves to Edward, and he waves back.


    ¡°As you¡¯ll see, we have some visitors today. These are a few of the Academy¡¯s research students, who have kindly agreed to help me assess your abilities, since I believe it is important to give you all enough time to show what you¡¯re capable of and how well you have understood my teaching so far.¡±


    She does have a point there, I suppose. Electra¡¯s test was unusual in more ways than one. I¡¯m more relieved than anything else, though: with so many other people here and with all of us being tested at once, she can¡¯t make my test unfairly difficult.


    ¡°Please sit at your ordinary desks, and don¡¯t interact with or try to distract your fellow students for the duration of the tests. Each individual tester will explain your instructions.¡±


    I walk over to my desk, feeling only ordinary nerves. I never thought I¡¯d be thankful for that.


    The student testing me is about twenty-five at a guess; he has thick, curly dark hair and is tall enough he has to stoop down to address me. His robes are trimmed with brown lace, meaning he¡¯s Rittome. ¡°Tallulah Roberts?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Mark Wilkins. You¡¯re¡­ Malaina¡­ is that correct?¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I say, heart sinking a little. I recognise the early signs of prejudice by now, and I would not be surprised if Felicity deliberately chose him to assess me because of that.


    ¡°I see. We will begin with the General Animation Spell.¡±


    Mark Wilkins, if he is prejudiced, is professional enough to not let it get in the way of his task. That fear, at least, was unfounded. He¡¯s harsh but fair, and what he asks me to do is in line with the syllabus (Edward made me memorise it). I manage most spells adequately, though my control of more precise work is shaky at best.


    My illusions have improved a lot as a result of the last incident with Felicity. I haven¡¯t been able to replicate whatever state of mind let me do that, and I don¡¯t particularly want to get into situations where that would be more likely, but I seem to have kept my understanding of how to produce near-perfect images.


    So when the test ends an hour later, I find to my surprise that I¡¯m satisfied with how it¡¯s gone. I¡¯m not failing. I can do this. I¡¯m a magician. The relief and joy of it is giddying, and I can¡¯t wipe the smile off my face.


    The entire class gets lunch together. Say what you like about these tests, they seem to be a bonding experience for us all. I don¡¯t enjoy that for long, though. Elsie and Jake are complaining together about how hard they found some of the questions. Questions that I managed without much difficulty at all.


    I know that feeling better than I¡¯d like. It used to happen a lot at Genford. It¡¯s kind of isolating, because it feels mean to say actually, that question was fairly easy, I thought when they¡¯ve been struggling so much. So I don¡¯t talk about how I found the test, and I find myself fading into the background a little.


    But unlike every time this has happened at Genford, I¡¯m not alone. Edward is sitting next to me, and if I think the test went smoothly then he must think it was mind-numbingly boring and a waste of his time.


    ¡°Is that how practical tests are normally done, then?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know. But it would seem to make sense. It¡¯s a more objective system and it allows more to be tested.¡±


    ¡°Then Electra¡­¡±


    ¡°Is Electra,¡± he finishes. ¡°What we dealt with is nothing compared to her Magical Combat exams. Rosie took the course, and she says the final test is to fight Electra herself. Your grade is determined by how long you survive.¡±


    I wince. ¡°Is that safe?¡±


    ¡°I imagine even she couldn¡¯t get away with literal murder of her students. Which implies that she¡¯s good enough that she can make it safe.¡±


    That she can keep her attacks precise, non-lethal, even in the middle of intense combat. That whatever her students throw at her, she can maintain control of the fight. ¡°That would make sense.¡±


    ¡°I am not looking forward to taking Magical Combat next year,¡± Edward says. ¡°I¡¯ve probably been listening to too many of Rosie¡¯s horror stories about it, though.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re taking Magical Combat?¡± I say, a little surprised. ¡°I didn¡¯t think you were the type for ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I need to be able to defend myself properly,¡± Edward says. ¡°You should take it, too.¡±


    My first thought is that I am not a fighter, that the class would be utter misery for me. It takes me a moment to realise Edward¡¯s unspoken assumption that I¡¯ll be staying at the Academy for further study after I qualify.


    It¡¯s been a long time since I properly thought about what comes after qualifying. I guess part of me was convinced I wouldn¡¯t even make it that far. And I¡¯ve just been surviving, one day at a time.


    I need to get my mundane Certificate of Education, and then¡­ law school, that was always the plan for after Genford. Except that plan belongs to the Tallulah who hadn¡¯t Fallen, who was still lying to herself that it was what she wanted. To a girl who doesn¡¯t exist any more.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Edward asks. I¡¯ve been silent, lost in thought, for a second too long to be natural.


    ¡°You¡¯re assuming I¡¯ll be coming back to the Academy next year,¡± I say.


    ¡°Well, aren¡¯t you?¡± he says. ¡°You¡¯re happy here. You belong here.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but¡­¡± I realise he wants me to stay. He wants me to stay with him.


    ¡°Even if I haven¡¯t converted you into a magical researcher yet, more magicians than otherwise will want to take at least some additional courses. Teleportation, at the very least. And a lot of the others give you professional certifications, which you¡¯ll need if you want to make a living as an enchanter or wardsmith or conjurer.¡±


    Which is the problem. I don¡¯t know if I want that.


    I resolved that I was going to change the world. That means politics. And magic is not the best way into politics: while the Royal Magicians do have a large measure of political power, there¡¯s only one Malaina Royal and my chances of becoming the next are absurdly low no matter how good I get. My relationship with Edward would be enough to disqualify me as a candidate in the eyes of the many people who think the Blackthorns already have too much power.


    ¡°Mm,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ll think about it.¡±


    ¡°I ¨C ¡° says Edward. ¡°No. No, I¡¯m being selfish. You need to choose the future you want for yourself, not the one that keeps you with me.¡±


    Says the person who doesn¡¯t have a choice and never has had one.


    ¡°Whatever I do,¡± I say, ¡°whether we end up going in completely different directions or not, I am not going to abandon you. Ever. We¡¯re still friends, even if we share nothing more than that.¡±


    That¡¯s not quite true, though, and I think we both know it.


    Maybe I had the right idea before, not thinking about the future. Living in the moment.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Edward says.

 83. Eleanor, Philippa and Maria

    There are about twenty minutes of the lunch break left by the time we¡¯re done eating. Another one of those awkward chunks of time.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you dare go and fetch your notes,¡± Edward says.


    I start guiltily. I had been about to do exactly that. I guess it¡¯s not much of a surprise that he guessed it. ¡°Wasn¡¯t planning on it,¡± I lie blatantly.


    ¡°Of course you weren¡¯t,¡± he replies in a tone that suggests he doesn¡¯t believe me for a second. ¡°Tell me about your favourite king.¡±


    It¡¯s a blatant distraction attempt, but I would quite like to be distracted. I don¡¯t even need to think for a second to decide. ¡°Eleanor the Bold,¡± I say.


    ¡°Then I shall be a king, like my father before me?¡± Edward guesses.


    I nod. It¡¯s the quote of hers everyone remembers, but it¡¯s worthy of remembrance. Eleanor was Thomas the Defender¡¯s only daughter and named as his heir, but when he died some of the nobles questioned whether a woman could rule. They said the country would never prosper under a queen.


    That line was her response, and it¡¯s why every ruler of Rasin since has been a king, regardless of gender.


    ¡°I expected you to go for something more obscure.¡±


    ¡°Just because that quote is well-known doesn¡¯t make it any less awesome.¡±


    ¡°You do know ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That why the nobles accepted her has a lot less to do with that line than with the need for a ruler the country could unite against to fight off the Sirgalese raiders? Yup. But it¡¯s a good story.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Edward admits.


    ¡°What about you?¡± I ask. ¡°Favourite king?¡±


    ¡°Family loyalty compels me to say Felix Blackthorn,¡± he replies.


    I blink. It¡¯s easy to forget sometimes just who Edward¡¯s ancestors were and all the extraordinary things they¡¯ve done. ¡°Setting family loyalty aside¡­¡±


    ¡°Felix caused a decade of suffering for the people of Rasin because he couldn¡¯t set aside his desire for control. My actual favourite would probably have to be Philippa the Bright.¡±


    His sentence-long summary of the Second Civil War is not inaccurate. ¡°Why Philippa?¡± I ask; it surprises me. I expected him to go for something more obscure.


    ¡°Not for the obvious reasons,¡± he says. ¡°She was never supposed to be king. She had no right to the throne, not really. And yet she saved the country from Lucius and brought it back to prosperity.¡±


    Philippa was far from the walking star she¡¯s often depicted as, but she undeniably saved Rasin. I narrow my eyes; I think I can see where Edward is going with this, and I¡¯m not sure I like it.


    ¡°The Blackthorns as a dynasty didn¡¯t exist back then, but there were other old Siaril families. Other dukes and lords. There were probably hundreds of people who were better positioned to put an end to the Usurper¡¯s reign of terror than she was.¡±


    Yeah. That¡¯s what I thought. ¡°Some of them tried,¡± I say. ¡°Died trying.¡±


    ¡°Not enough,¡± says Edward. There¡¯s a faint note of a familiar intensity in his voice. ¡°Not enough. It¡¯s not enough to be born with power. You have to be worthy of it. You have to use it for the things that matter.¡±


    ¡°You will be worthy,¡± I say. ¡°I know you will.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that.¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± I say. ¡°I know you, Edward.¡±


    ¡°This was supposed to be a light, distracting conversation, wasn¡¯t it? I didn¡¯t mean it to get this deep. Sorry. Tell me something I didn¡¯t know about Philippa.¡±


    That is a challenge; Edward knows her story well. I think back to the more obscure parts of it. ¡°Do you know how she persuaded the Duke of Greyford to back her claim?¡± I ask.


    He shakes his head.


    ¡°The Duke had three daughters,¡± I say. ¡°By all accounts they were famous beauties. The youngest, Isabella, was only ten, but she had the most gorgeous red hair. Like Philippa.¡±


    Edward narrows his eyes. He doesn¡¯t get it, not yet.


    ¡°She pointed out how Lucius was destroying the country. How many people were suffering because of his policies. That didn¡¯t work, because the Duke could point out that civil war would be just as bad and there was no guarantee of victory. So then she said: what happens when Isabella is a few years older?¡±


    Edward breathes in sharply. Yeah. He gets it now. One of the worst things about Lucius was the way he treated women, after all. He had a particular type, and both Philippa and Isabella fitted it perfectly. I¡¯ve read the historically accepted account of that meeting, and she went into rather graphic detail about what could have happened. It probably shouldn¡¯t have been something thirteen-year-old me was able to get her hands on, but then again I guess most history books weren¡¯t written with thirteen-year-olds for an intended audience.


    ¡°That¡¯s an excellent example of my point,¡± he says after a moment, when he realises I¡¯m not going to go on. ¡°It shouldn¡¯t have taken a threat to someone he cared about to make him act.¡±


    I pause to tell him off for failing at being light-hearted and distracting, and then realise that the particular choice of story I made was not exactly that. I laugh.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think we can do light-hearted small talk, can we?¡±


    We can, apparently, derive amusement from our inability to do light-hearted small talk, though.


    It¡¯s Alchemy first thing after lunch. I¡¯m not dreading it in the same way as I was CME or Spells, but it¡¯s still nerve-wracking taking a test where a failing grade might also involve explosions, and we¡¯re expected to know recipes by heart. Robin complains about that, saying it¡¯s not what alchemy should be. She¡¯s taken quite a liking to the subject, and has had more than one debate with Edward about its usefulness and the lamentable state of Rasin¡¯s alchemy compared to Sirgal.


    I agree with Robin about memorising recipes, if only because I¡¯m haunted by the thought that if I remember a single number wrong it could have catastrophic consequences.


    There are three explosions during the test: Elsie, Hannah and Jake. They¡¯re all allowed to restart once the damage has been assessed and mitigated, but in the latter¡¯s case there just isn¡¯t enough time left in the lesson for him to complete the brew we¡¯re working on.


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    It¡¯s hard not to let the explosions distract me, which I think is why my brew ends up thicker than it should be. We¡¯re aiming for the consistency of tomato soup, but I end up with something closer to mud. Mary gives it a disapproving glance as she collects our completed work.


    The consensus in the class is that it was a ridiculously hard test, though. Only Edward and Robin produced a perfect concoction.


    Most of us are exhausted by now, but we still have one more lesson today: Magical Law and Culture. Sam is making us write timed essays, which I am not a fan of; producing the quality of work I want to just isn¡¯t something that can be done in the span of an hour. It¡¯ll be a struggle to not end up halfway through and out of time.


    ¡°Five tests in one day,¡± Elsie complains as we wait outside the classroom. ¡°And this is just the beginning.¡±


    It is the worst day we¡¯ll have to deal with, though, since it¡¯s the one without a free period. And only two of the three lessons for each subject will be devoted to tests.


    She gets a general murmur of agreement, though Edward rolls his eyes at me when she¡¯s not looking. I respond with a glare, since it is brutal for people who don¡¯t find the classwork far too easy and do actually care about their results.


    He glares back, but before we can turn it into a full-on silent argument Sam opens the door and beckons us in.


    There are three possible essay questions. I deliberately don¡¯t choose the one on the changing roles of magicians throughout history, because I know I will not be able to say everything I want to about that in the time I have. Instead I decide to write about laws surrounding the invention of new forms of magic. Edward will be choosing that one too, I suspect, and I¡¯ve picked up enough details between him and lessons that I think I can back up my arguments.


    I¡¯m pleased with the essay I hand in an hour later. It is actually finished, the conclusion only a little rushed, and is as good as I can make it within the time constraints.


    Hannah and Aisha have arranged for all of us to have a picnic in the gardens to relax and unwind after the tough first day. I wouldn¡¯t mind going, but I see the expression on Edward¡¯s face when they announce it. He doesn¡¯t want to go, and he¡¯s spent enough time around his classmates already today that I don¡¯t think I can change his mind.


    Well, I could probably be persuaded to abandon the others if it means reading the True History in his company.


    So that¡¯s what I do for the two hours until dinner, with occasional breaks to test Edward¡¯s wards. I can¡¯t understand how he can want to keep working after the day we¡¯ve had. Though I guess he doesn¡¯t feel like any of that except Electra¡¯s test properly challenged him. I know I shouldn¡¯t try to compare myself to Edward, but I can¡¯t help feeling jealous sometimes.


    I feel much better by dinnertime. Edward does almost have to physically drag me away from the True History to eat, but that¡¯s to be expected by this point.


    We go about half an hour after the dining hall opens. That¡¯s Edward¡¯s idea, and I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s a way of avoiding most of our classmates, but it¡¯s half an hour¡¯s extra reading time. We¡¯re not entirely successful in avoiding everyone: Elsie arrives shortly after we do and joins us rather than the larger group.


    I¡¯m still not sure whether there¡¯s something wrong after the fortune-teller incident or whether she¡¯s out of sorts due to a combination of Edward¡¯s reaction to that and the tests. It has been a tough day for those of us who aren¡¯t Blackthorns, so I can¡¯t blame her for wanting to eat in companionable silence rather than listening to everyone dissecting their test performances.


    Even the distraction of the True History isn¡¯t enough to stop me thinking back over the day, though. I have no idea how I did on Electra¡¯s test, likely by her design, which is unsettling. And while the others went well none of them went perfectly; I keep wondering whether I could have phrased the conclusion of my essay a little better if I¡¯d written faster, or whether I should have been able to chase down the errors in my Magical Theory calculations.


    ¡°Are we studying after dinner?¡± Elsie asks.


    ¡°No,¡± says Edward immediately.


    ¡°We should, though,¡± I say. ¡°There¡¯s Enchantments tomorrow, and Conjurations and Transformations. And I could use more practice for both.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± says Elsie. ¡°We should.¡±


    That is spoken in the tone of someone who very much does not want to do an hour or two¡¯s casting practice this evening. I feel the same way, but¡­


    Edward rolls his eyes. ¡°Look. I¡¯m not going to stop you if you want to, but I do think it¡¯s a bad idea. Unless you¡¯re my dad, there is a limit to how far you can push yourself before you stop being effective, and you do not want to get in the habit of crossing that limit.¡±


    The me of half a year ago would have definitely done the casting practice. But I was in the habit of crossing that limit, I realise. The number of nights I stayed up late revising for end-of-year exams, the number of days only pure stubbornness was enough to get me out of bed and working before lessons started¡­


    I don¡¯t know if I can do that again.


    This is only one evening, though. Just a couple of hours, once.


    ¡°Says the person who doesn¡¯t need to revise,¡± Elsie mutters bitterly.


    ¡°The advice isn¡¯t any less valid just because I¡¯m the one giving it. That¡¯s a common logical fallacy, actually ¨C ¡°


    I glare at Edward. He¡¯s right, but most people¡¯s minds are not entirely logical. Expecting them to be is probably a fallacy in its own right. They should call it the Blackthorn Fallacy, if it doesn¡¯t already have a name.


    He knows that look well enough to glare back but stop talking.


    ¡°Let¡¯s ask Elizabeth and Robin when we¡¯re done eating,¡± I suggest, as much to put a stop to this awkwardness as because it¡¯s a sensible idea. ¡°In the meantime, Edward and I were talking about our favourite kings earlier. Who¡¯s yours?¡±


    Elsie frowns for a second. ¡°It¡¯s too hard to choose.¡±


    ¡°Eleanor the Bold and Philippa the Bright are already taken, if that helps,¡± I say.


    ¡°Not that you¡¯re not allowed to have the same favourite as either of us,¡± Edward adds. ¡°Just it would make for a more interesting conversation if you choose someone else.¡±


    ¡°I was considering both of those,¡± Elsie admits. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll pick another one¡­ I¡¯ve always liked Maria the Seafarer. The rise of the Kingdom¡¯s navy, exploring lands far beyond the sea¡­¡± she gazes off into the distance, probably imagining that exploration. ¡°I used to dream of running away to sea,¡± she confesses.


    I didn¡¯t expect that, but I keep my silence and wait for her to go on.


    ¡°My life was always so busy and cramped and small,¡± she says. ¡°The idea of the open water, of leaving behind everything I knew and setting sail for a distant shore¡­ it had a lot of appeal. Still does, to be honest, it¡¯s just not that practical.¡±


    ¡°Mm?¡±


    ¡°I have a distant cousin who¡¯s a sailor. One time he invited me on board his ship, just for a day¡¯s voyage. I was so excited for it¡­ spent the entire trip throwing up over the side of the deck.¡±


    ¡°There are pretty good anti-seasickness spells,¡± Edward says. ¡°I haven¡¯t tried to learn any of them yet, but I doubt they¡¯d be too hard.¡±


    Elsie laughs bitterly. ¡°I think your definition of too hard and mine may differ a little.¡±


    ¡°They will if you think about it that way. But if you want it enough, if you believe in it enough¡­ I don¡¯t see why you shouldn¡¯t be able to go to sea without being sick.¡±


    She stares at him for a long moment, silent. I can¡¯t work out what she¡¯s thinking at all. I don¡¯t think it¡¯s a happy silence, though. ¡°You just don¡¯t understand, do you?¡± she says finally.


    ¡°Don¡¯t understand what?¡±


    ¡°What life is like for normal people. You can do anything you set your mind to, because you have a rich and powerful father and you¡¯re a ridiculously good magician already. Breaking news: that¡¯s not the case for pretty much everyone else in the world.¡±


    Edward flinches. ¡°No,¡± he says, voice cold. ¡°You don¡¯t understand.¡±


    ¡°Edward ¨C ¡° I say, knowing this isn¡¯t going to end well if he keeps talking.


    ¡°All of that? It has a price. And it¡¯s not a cheap one. Besides, money and power aren¡¯t the real ingredients of success. Talent, self-belief, determination. That¡¯s what matters.¡±


    Spoken like someone who has had money and power all his life and has no understanding of the limitations caused by the lack of it. And if I can see that, knowing Edward and knowing he has the best of intentions, then it¡¯s no surprise to see Elsie flinch right back.


    I need to stop this before it escalates any further. ¡°Okay,¡± I say, making it up as I go along. ¡°This argument isn¡¯t helping anything. You¡¯re both right, and you¡¯re both wrong.¡±


    As is ever the fate of would-be peacemakers, that gets me glares from both sides of the argument. ¡°Elsie, that kind of power Edward¡¯s talking about does have a price. I¡¯ve paid a part of that recently, and I can confirm that it¡¯s not pleasant. And Edward, you have no understanding of what it¡¯s like to not have money and power, and how difficult that can make things.¡±


    Neither of them look particularly appeased by that, but at least their anger is now directed at me rather than each other. That¡¯s progress of a sort.


    ¡°You both have perfectly good intentions, it¡¯s just¡­¡±


    ¡°We have irreconcilable views of the world?¡± Elsie suggests.


    I shake my head. ¡°No. Not irreconcilable. I¡¯m a relatively normal person, or I was a few months ago, and yet I¡¯m still somehow friends with Edward. You two can definitely learn to understand each other.¡±


    I hope desperately neither of them are about to say something stupid that will ruin my attempts to persuade them of that. Neither of them say anything at all for a long moment.


    ¡°Tell me more about Maria the Seafarer,¡± Edward says finally.


    That, if I¡¯m not mistaken, is a peace offering.

 84. Viscountess

    We don¡¯t study that evening, in the end. Neither Elizabeth nor Robin wants to, and I have to admit Edward has a point. So it¡¯s just me and the True History. I make Robin promise to make me stop reading at ten after noon; even if there is a free period first thing tomorrow, I will need a decent night¡¯s sleep.


    It¡¯s seven when I pull the curtains closed and cast a light-spell. The book is six hundred pages long, and I¡¯m about halfway through it by now. When I¡¯m done I¡¯ll have to reread it, taking proper notes and cross-referencing things, but that seems like a bad idea to do when I should be focusing on the tests, I should be revising ¨C


    My light flickers. Right. Malaina episode. Lovely. I take a couple of minutes to breathe and recite the first thirty kings of Rasin to myself, and remind myself of what Edward said earlier. Then I start reading.


    Someone yanks open my curtain. I don¡¯t look up, I just keep reading. It is the opinion of those who have studied the events in detail that the Thalian Crisis is entirely the fault of the royal family. Yeah, I can see why said royal family don¡¯t want this book being more widely read, even if those implicated are long dead by now.


    ¡°¡­ulah?¡±


    Right. Trying to get my attention. I drag my eyes away from the book. ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s ten after noon,¡± says Robin.


    I hate my past self for getting her to do this. Why didn¡¯t I just tell her ten and thirty? That would still get me enough sleep and I¡¯d be able to keep reading a little longer. ¡°Yes, but ¨C ¡°


    Robin is laughing. ¡°You made me promise that I¡¯d force you to stop reading. What did you say, again? Physically take the book away from me and lock it somewhere I can¡¯t reach if you have to?¡±


    I did say that, didn¡¯t I? I hate my past self even more. I¡¯m fairly sure Robin won¡¯t actually go through with that threat, but it¡¯s not worth the risk. I snap the book shut before I have a chance to read another word and get sucked back in. ¡°Fine,¡± I mutter, then ¡°Sorry. I did ask for this.¡±


    ¡°You can thank me when you do really well on the tests because you got such good sleep tonight,¡± Robin says.


    I laugh. ¡°Hopefully,¡± I say, stowing the True History safely away in my trunk.


    ¡°Definitely,¡± says Robin. At least someone believes in me.


    It was, I admit to myself when I wake up, probably a good idea to have Robin do that. I feel refreshed and¡­ if not exactly prepared, then at least as prepared as I¡¯m going to get. I spend breakfast with Edward as normal, decline his offer to start teaching me warding in the free period that starts the day, and return to the True History. I got through another hundred-and-twenty pages last night, and I¡¯m hoping I can finish it today.


    It''s a very effective distraction technique. Almost too effective, in fact: the next time I¡¯m conscious of checking the time, there are only ten minutes left until Enchantments. I snatch quills and paper to fill my satchel and hope that the pounding of my heart is just because of the rush of making sure I¡¯m ready in time.


    No such luck: the enchanted bead doesn¡¯t light up when I channel a little magic into it. Which is a problem. I can cope with these passive episodes easily enough by now, but I need a couple of minutes of calm and quiet. And I don¡¯t have that option right now.


    I settle for reciting kings to myself as I jog through the hallway, and make it with three minutes to spare. But I have to make this episode pass before the test starts. Casting normally during an episode is difficult to say the least. I ignore my friends¡¯ greetings, close my eyes and focus on breathing.


    The episode doesn¡¯t pass as it normally does. I don¡¯t feel the sense of unreality that means it¡¯s getting worse, but the bead persistently refuses to glow. Why isn¡¯t it working? I have to fix this, I have to ¨C


    No. That¡¯s not right. Thinking that way is making it worse, isn¡¯t it?


    That¡¯s why. Because of the urgency. Because I was trying to fight the tide rather than ride it out, and that never works.


    But realising that doesn¡¯t make the urgency go away. ¡°Edward,¡± I say, opening my eyes briefly.


    He nods and takes my hand. ¡°I¡¯m here.¡±


    His touch, the feeling of his hand in mine, help a lot. Where am I in my list of kings? Lucy the Fair. Alfred the Short.


    ¡°Good morning, class,¡± says Humphrey. ¡°Come in, get yourselves sat down.¡±


    I¡¯m out of time. I have to ¨C


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    ¡°Can we just have a minute?¡± Edward asks. ¡°Please?¡±


    I can¡¯t see Humphrey, but I imagine him looking sceptically at the two of us, trying to work out what Edward is after, before he speaks. ¡°One minute precisely.¡±


    It¡¯ll be enough. I want to count the seconds, but instead I focus on Isabella the Pious. Lucius the Usurper. Alexandra Snow Queen. Philippa the Bright.


    I feel fine now. I open my eyes, pull out the bead from my pocket, take a breath, channel magic.


    It glows the faintest starlight-silver. ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± says Edward. ¡°Shall we?¡±


    I step into the classroom feeling the faint numbness that always follows an episode, sit down in my usual place, and try to focus on the test that doesn¡¯t seem important any more.


    The hour goes by in a blur. I enchant half a dozen different objects. Every enchantment I cast succeeds, and I find myself thankful for Edward¡¯s advanced lessons. Compared to that, the things we¡¯ve been taught in class aren¡¯t hard at all. There are a couple of moments when my control slips ¨C at one stage I put a little too much magic into a levitation enchantment and the stone almost hits the ceiling. In a way it¡¯s almost helpful that I¡¯ve just had an episode, though, because it means I¡¯m protected from another one for a little while.


    ¡°Okay?¡± asks Edward as we leave.


    I shrug. ¡°I¡¯m surviving.¡±


    ¡°Good to know.¡±


    Edward is worried about me, I can tell. I¡¯m not above exploiting that worry to persuade him to join the rest of the study group on our expedition to the caf¨¦. The weather has improved since yesterday; it¡¯s still cold and grey, but it¡¯s not raining this time.


    Our choice of awkward small talk topic this time is our plans for the holidays. Elsie is going home to her family, Robin is staying with an aunt, I¡¯m staying with my dad. No-one asks questions about why my mother and Robin¡¯s parents are left absent from that. We have enough experience with avoiding sensitive topics by now.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Going home. My dad isn¡¯t around often, so it¡¯ll be just me and the servants ¨C and it¡¯ll be even quieter for Holy Days themselves with him at the Feast of Stars.¡±


    The Feast of Stars is the grand five-day-long party, feast and political networking event held by the King to celebrate Holy Days every year. Everyone who¡¯s anyone at court or in Parliament is invited. It must be the one party that even Lord Blackthorn can¡¯t avoid.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going?¡± Elsie asks.


    Edward shudders theatrically. ¡°Stars, no. My dad doesn¡¯t want me formally presented at court yet. Not until I¡¯ve qualified as a magician and can be made Viscount Siaril.¡±


    ¡°¡­hold on,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯re going to be made a viscount? Soon? And you didn¡¯t tell me?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°That is the traditional title for the acknowledged successor of a Royal Magician. I didn¡¯t think it was a big deal.¡±


    ¡°Only you could possibly think that.¡± He does have a point, though: I could have put the pieces together and figured out that little revelation on my own. I just didn¡¯t, because despite the last few months it¡¯s still hard for me to reconcile my best friend with someone who¡¯ll one day be one of the most powerful people in the country.


    ¡°You could be a viscountess,¡± says Elsie, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. ¡°Tallulah, Viscountess Blackthorn. How does that sound?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± I say.


    ¡°Tallulah is not going to be Viscountess Blackthorn,¡± Edward says. ¡°Quite apart from the political factors meaning our marriage would not be a good idea, it¡¯s not the correct title. My title will be subordinate to that of Lord Siaril, not of Lord Blackthorn, and that is a courtesy title rather than a hereditary one. My hypothetical future wife would be entitled to call herself Viscountess, but not Viscountess Blackthorn or Viscountess Siaril.¡±


    ¡°Stars help me,¡± I mutter. Political factors are far from the only reason Edward and I are never getting married. I consider the part where we¡¯re not actually in a relationship and never will be rather more important than that. I guess this is his way of pretending we are, though.


    But even the thought of the two of us in that way is instinctively wrong. Stars, even if I did love him in that way, I¡¯m not even sixteen. I guess I want to get married, but at some hypothetical point in the future once I¡¯m properly grown up and have found the right person.


    ¡°You have no sense of romance,¡± Elsie complains.


    ¡°I don¡¯t see why that¡¯s a problem.¡±


    ¡°I feel sorry for whoever you do end up marrying,¡± teases Elizabeth.


    Edward flinches. Elizabeth meant the words innocently; she doesn¡¯t know anything about Edward¡¯s parents¡¯ relationship and how it ended. She doesn¡¯t know that Edward knows he¡¯ll never be able to love the woman he marries, but he still desperately wants to avoid repeating his father¡¯s mistakes.


    ¡°On second thoughts,¡± he says after a moment, ¡°Tallulah might be the only one who¡¯ll ever be able to put up with me.¡±


    I laugh, but his attempt to play off his discomfort isn¡¯t entirely successful. I noticed, even if no-one else did. ¡°And even that is only because I want to get into your library.¡±


    ¡°Of course you¡¯d marry Edward for his books,¡± says Elizabeth flatly.


    ¡°I would marry someone for their books, if the collection was good enough.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Elsie. See? It¡¯s completely normal.¡±


    ¡°Anyway,¡± says Edward pointedly. ¡°Elizabeth. Holiday plans?¡±


    ¡°I, uh, don¡¯t really know,¡± she says. ¡°Don¡¯t have anyone to stay with. Probably just rent the cheapest place I can find. I should be able to get by for a few weeks.¡±


    ¡°If you need money ¨C ¡° Edward begins, and then stops himself. ¡°Wait, no. Hold on. If I were to offer you money, would you be offended?¡±


    The scary part is that this genuinely counts as progress.


    Elizabeth blinks a few times. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t think so, but I wouldn¡¯t accept it.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°If you change your mind, just ask. Please don¡¯t starve to death because you¡¯re a stubborn idiot.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to starve to death. I have a little saved up. I¡¯ll make that enough. It¡¯s not for long, anyway, I¡¯ll make plenty of money once I qualify.¡±


    ¡°Wait. Does that mean you¡¯d accept a loan?¡±


    Elizabeth considers that for a second. ¡°¡­I might, actually. As long as there isn¡¯t a clause saying that my life and soul are forfeit to the Blackthorns if I don¡¯t pay it back in time.¡±


    ¡°Oh, please,¡± Edward says. ¡°Tricking someone into owing you their service is a terrible way of earning their loyalty. They¡¯ll betray you at the first possible opportunity and do as much damage as they can on the way out.¡±


    He is joking, isn¡¯t he? The combination of his family being what it is and his knack of being perfectly deadpan when he wants makes it impossible to be sure.


    ¡°I¡¯ll scrutinise the small print for you,¡± I offer. ¡°I¡¯m not really qualified in contract law, but I know more or less what I¡¯m doing with it.¡±


    ¡°¡­and what kind of fees do you charge?¡±


    ¡°No fees. I¡¯m offering free services to acquire new clients.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have a contract drawn up, then,¡± says Edward. ¡°How much do you want?¡±


    Elizabeth stares blankly at him. ¡°¡­you¡¯re serious, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±


    She sighs. ¡°Can I have some time to think about this?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Sure.¡±

 85. Invisibility

    After the break is the theoretical Alchemy test. It¡¯s a mess, but I expected it to be a mess. I think it would be impossible to do really well on that test without flawless memory. And while my memory is better than average, it is a long way from flawless. Some things I¡¯m able to piece together from what the questions expect me to do, but I¡¯m forced to leave one question blank and guess at another.


    Lunch is quiet; there¡¯s only so much dissection of our performances the class can handle. Hannah and Aisha are revising for this afternoon¡¯s tests while eating, which makes me think I should be doing the same. Edward insists I shouldn¡¯t, though, and he¡¯s probably right. It won¡¯t help anything at this point.


    Conjurations and Transformations is a challenge. It¡¯s always been my weakest subject, I think because more than anything else it needs the right way of thinking. Complete belief, complete ability to visualise what you¡¯re trying to create. After my breakthrough with illusions, I asked Edward if I could use a similar approach with conjurations.


    The resulting lecture on magical theory was even harder to follow than I expected. Apparently there¡¯s something called the Grimshaw-Wilde Theory that says illusions are fundamentally the same as conjurations and transformations despite the different way they¡¯re usually taught. That, in the end, there is no division between illusion and reality. If that theory is correct, then my idea will work.


    There is much debate about whether it¡¯s correct, though. Edward says a lot of the arguments in its favour are blatantly wrong but that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean the theory itself is invalid. Testing it rigorously runs into the inevitable problems with research into the fundamental nature of magic: the outcome is determined as much by which theory the magician believes as anything else.


    If Edward had just told me that the Grimshaw-Wilde Theory was true, I would have believed him without question, and then I would probably have overcome whatever mental block is holding me back from being a better conjurer by now. But he refuses on principle to do that. Something about the long-term consequences of false beliefs for casting ability.


    I wish I wasn¡¯t so busy preparing for the tests, because all this sounds fascinating.


    Whatever the true nature of magic, though, I¡¯m still faced with more practical difficulties. The test is set up the same as both Spells and Enchantments, with research students overseeing our work. Rosie is there again, testing Elsie this time. I imagine she¡¯d have to avoid testing Edward, and possibly me as well, due to conflict of interest.


    I can do this, I tell myself firmly. I belong here. I¡¯m a magician. I don¡¯t think I¡¯m close to a Malaina episode, not after this morning, but I can¡¯t reach for the bead to check. No enchanted devices are allowed during this test, and it¡¯s best to stick to the rules.


    It goes a little better than I expected. I do eventually conjure everything I¡¯m expected to, but some of them take several attempts and others are less than perfect. Still, it¡¯s probably enough to pass at least. And that is the only thing that matters if I listen to Edward.


    In general listening to Edward on the subject of what matters is a bad idea, but in this specific instance I think it¡¯s okay.


    And then there¡¯s theoretical Spells. Felicity can¡¯t be that biased given she¡¯s setting the same test for everyone, but she can definitely be biased in the way she marks it. Her lessons had much more emphasis on practical casting, which was fun and good for getting used to casting but means we don¡¯t have the solid grounding in theory this test is supposed to assess.


    Well, I wouldn¡¯t if I hadn¡¯t had Edward giving me constant lectures and Robin clarifying things in our study sessions. As it is I can piece together what I need to know from the two of them, even if it is near-impossible for me to tell which of the things Edward tells me I¡¯m expected to know. The test isn¡¯t even particularly hard, in the end. The entire class thinks it went well.


    That makes me a little nervous. But not every teacher is Electra, and not everything that seems easy is actually a trick question. It¡¯s fine.


    And that¡¯s the end of the second day¡¯s lessons. Every one of tomorrow¡¯s lessons is a test, but there¡¯s only one test each on Thursday and Friday ¨C though Friday¡¯s is Astronomy in the evening so we can¡¯t rest properly until the weekend.


    I hate it when that happens; it¡¯s awful trying to keep yourself working when most of your exams are done and you just want to celebrate or relax.


    Edward and I spend the remains of the afternoon the same way as yesterday: me reading the True History, him working on wards. Today¡¯s project is a ¡°basic¡± illusion ward, which when activated makes its interior appear as it was when the ward was first cast. So, in particular, a person inside such a ward who wasn¡¯t there when it was cast is invisible. It¡¯s a very effective means of invisibility for someone who isn¡¯t moving, and much easier than actively maintained invisibility spells.


    He gets it to work after only a couple of attempts. I watch as he steps into the chalk circle and vanishes. ¡°Can you see me?¡± asks his disembodied voice. It¡¯s disorientating.


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    ¡°No,¡± I tell him.


    His hand appears from nowhere, sticking out just above the chalk circle, without an arm attached to it. ¡°See that?¡±


    ¡°Yes. That¡¯s a bit creepy.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s an illusion. I¡¯m right here.¡±


    ¡°I know that, but there¡¯s still something strange about seeing your hand without the rest of your body attached.¡±


    ¡°Spoilsport,¡± Edward mutters, and steps out of thin air. ¡°Right, your turn. I want to run a few tests.¡±


    I¡¯ve just finished a chapter of the True History, which is the only reason I don¡¯t protest before stepping into the circle. Nothing appears any different from this side of it.


    ¡°I can¡¯t see you,¡± says Edward. ¡°Talk to me.¡±


    ¡°What do you want me to say?¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter, I¡¯m just making sure there¡¯s no disruption to sound transmission. There doesn¡¯t appear to be. Not sure why there would be with only the one layer to the ward, but worth checking.¡±


    There are several other unlikely possibilities he¡¯s just checking. I tolerate it, knowing that he won¡¯t be satisfied until they¡¯re done and this is my best chance of reading the next chapter undisturbed.


    Everything goes how he expected it to go. ¡°Now if we can just combine this with a ward that prevents sound leaving¡­ combining wards is tricky, though. It¡¯ll take me a day or two.¡±


    I enjoy my newfound ability to glare at Edward without him knowing it. Being concealed by an illusion has its perks sometimes. For all I¡¯ve tried to teach him, he still doesn¡¯t understand the concept that most magicians would never be able to do the sort of thing he says he can do in a day or two.


    The arrogance would be utterly infuriating if it wasn¡¯t for the fact he is actually that good.


    I control my expression and step out of the ward.


    ¡°Right,¡± Edward says. ¡°Your turn.¡±


    ¡°¡­what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m teaching you wardwork. There¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll find yourself in a situation where you need to know it, and if you don¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    I tense. ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    Edward stops talking immediately. ¡°Right,¡± he says. ¡°You don¡¯t like to think about being unprepared.¡±


    I don¡¯t like to be reminded of the dozens of things I should be doing or the consequences of not doing them. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°I am going to learn wardwork. Soon. But¡­ not tonight?¡±


    He pauses in thought, and I track his gaze to the True History, lying open on the table. ¡°It¡¯s more than just a book, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°I know I shouldn¡¯t be devoting all my time to it, not in the middle of tests and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked. It¡¯s your escape, isn¡¯t it? Forgetting your problems by delving into the past.¡±


    Losing myself in the problems of long-dead kings, trying to understand them. ¡°Yes,¡± I admit.


    ¡°Then don¡¯t stop. Sometimes you need to escape.¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°My mother always told me off for spending too much time reading history. If I¡¯d devoted that time to work instead, think what I could have accomplished.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Edward through gritted teeth. ¡°With all due respect, do you really think you should be taking your mother¡¯s advice on things like that?¡±


    Given her recent actions, that is a more valid point than I¡¯d like. ¡°Maybe not. But ¨C ¡°


    He shakes his head sharply. ¡°No buts. If working that little bit harder is going to make your life more miserable for no real gain, don¡¯t do it. Do what you need to do to escape and be happy.¡±


    I relate more to Elsie¡¯s feelings at dinner yesterday now: that instinctive surge of it¡¯s all right for you, you don¡¯t actually have to work for any of this. Except he does, of course. He just put in the work years before he ever became a magician. ¡°Logical fallacy,¡± I mutter.


    ¡°What is?¡±


    ¡°The same thing Elsie said last night. But sometimes even knowing objectively something is a fallacy doesn¡¯t stop you feeling that way.¡±


    Edward is silent for a long moment, his face twisted into an ugly expression. ¡°You feel that way?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Sometimes. It¡¯s my problem, though. I always used to be disappointed when I wasn¡¯t top of my class at Genford, and it feels like it should be the same here even though I¡¯m never going to be a better magician than you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re holding yourself to an unrealistic standard.¡±


    ¡°I know that. That¡¯s exactly my point. I know it, and I still can¡¯t stop doing it.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Changing is hard. You¡¯ll get there, though.¡±


    And he sounds certain enough that I believe him.


    He escapes from dinner, leaving me to Elsie, Elizabeth and Robin. The four of us don¡¯t talk much; we¡¯re too tired for deep conversation and have had enough of trying and failing to make small talk for the rest of term.


    ¡°We just need to get through tomorrow,¡± says Elsie.


    ¡°And then Thursday. And Friday,¡± Robin points out.


    ¡°Don¡¯t. Thursday and Friday don¡¯t exist.¡±


    ¡°I wish it worked that way,¡± I say. But I need to remember they exist, otherwise I¡¯ll never be able to convince myself to keep going through them.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± says Robin. ¡°We¡¯re over halfway now, at least if we measure distance by number of tests rather than number of days.¡±


    I laugh. She and Edward are quite similar; they might not have made a bad couple if it wasn¡¯t for the incompatible orientation. That kind of reassurance that doesn¡¯t effectively reassure anyone is just the thing he¡¯d say in this situation.


    If I¡¯m honest with myself, though, this doesn¡¯t actually feel that bad. I¡¯m not even close to being as exhausted and broken as I was in the days after the riot, or even end-of-year exams at Genford. It¡¯s not exactly fun, but it¡¯s very much bearable.


    I don¡¯t know if that means I¡¯m stronger than I was or if I¡¯ve just suffered enough that I don¡¯t feel pain anymore. Maybe it¡¯s a bit of both, what doesn¡¯t kill you makes you stronger. I don¡¯t say that to the others, though: Elsie in particular is struggling, and I¡¯ve learnt the hard way that it becomes far harder if you think other people are finding it easy.


    ¡°We should work this evening,¡± says Elsie.


    Edward isn¡¯t here to tell me not to, but he doesn¡¯t need to be. It feels as if I have a copy of him sitting on my shoulder giving me annoyingly accurate advice. I shrug. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    Robin shakes her head. ¡°I¡¯m just going to read over my notes and then try and relax.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going for a run,¡± Elizabeth says. ¡°Need the exercise to clear my head. You could come with me, if you want?¡±


    Elsie and I share a look that says I do probably need to get more exercise, but I really don¡¯t think this is the best time for it. I think I¡¯d choose revision over that. The thought of revision doesn¡¯t fill me with dread right now.


    ¡°I¡¯ll pass, thanks,¡± I say. ¡°Maybe some other time?¡± I¡¯m hoping that we never reach that other time.


    Elizabeth smiles knowingly. ¡°That would be great.¡±


    Yeah, she can definitely guess what I¡¯m thinking there.

 86. Theoretical Tests

    Elsie and I do work, or we try to. Neither of us are in the right frame of mind for it, so we mostly end up distracting each other. She¡¯s worried, though: we only have theoretical tests left tomorrow, and she¡¯s much better at practical magic. At least Edward isn¡¯t here to hear her say that. The verbal dissection that would inevitably result wouldn¡¯t end well.


    We manage to work through a large chunk of the theory behind conjuration in two hours. I understand pretty much everything we discuss. In some ways that¡¯s a good thing, but it also makes me worry that my time would be more usefully spent on other topics I¡¯m less sure on.


    ¡°I can¡¯t do this,¡± says Elsie finally, after spending a good half-minute trying and failing to recall the definition of a partial conjuration (it refers to not fully envisaging the object you¡¯re trying to conjure and letting your subconscious fill in the gaps; it¡¯s not something that¡¯s taught at our level, and Malaina are advised never to attempt it).


    ¡°You can,¡± I say reflexively. ¡°Of course you can. You¡¯re doing well.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t lie to me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not lying,¡± I insist. ¡°You do understand most of this. There¡¯s just a few gaps that need to be filled in.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°We don¡¯t have time to fill in these gaps. And what happens if those are what all the questions are asked on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Our grades on these tests don¡¯t matter, not as long as we pass, and you¡¯re going to pass.¡±


    Stars, since when was I the one reassuring people? These might as well be my own fears Elsie is putting into words, and I¡¯m not convinced by my own arguments. What makes me think I¡¯m qualified to help Elsie when I can¡¯t even ¨C


    I¡¯m getting better at recognising the kind of thought pattern that marks the beginning of a Malaina episode. I pull the enchanted bead from my pocket and channel magic. It doesn¡¯t surprise me to see it stubbornly remain the same colour. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say. ¡°Give me a minute?¡±


    Elsie nods mutely.


    I close my eyes and breathe. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I¡¯m fine. I¡¯m doing better than I think I am; the tests might not have gone quite as well as I hoped, but none of them have been a complete disaster. I can do this. I¡¯ve survived far worse.


    Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Breathe.


    This episode passes swiftly. Less than a minute, maybe. Is that a good thing, or is it a bad thing that I had it in the first place?


    I open my eyes to see the glow of the bead and Elsie¡¯s concerned expression.


    ¡°Stars,¡± Elsie says. ¡°What right do I have to suffer through these tests when they¡¯re literally giving you a magical mental breakdown and you¡¯re still doing better than me?¡±


    ¡°What,¡± I say flatly. ¡°What do you mean.¡±


    I don¡¯t understand. How can she think that? How can she not understand?


    ¡°¡­what I said?¡± Elsie tries, confused.


    Right. Brutal honesty it is, then. ¡°You read the papers. You know why I Fell. You know that it wasn¡¯t traumatic. Not like Falling should be. Not like ¨C ¡°


    Oh, stars, I nearly said not like Edward. Granted it wouldn¡¯t have given much away that couldn¡¯t already be guessed, but still. I can¡¯t afford to be that careless.


    ¡°That¡¯s not how it works,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m not exactly an expert on Malaina, but I¡¯m pretty sure blaming yourself for it is wrong.¡±


    I force myself to say nothing.


    ¡°Just because other people have suffered more than you have doesn¡¯t mean you should be okay.¡±


    ¡°That advice applies equally well to yourself,¡± I observe.


    She laughs awkwardly. ¡°Okay. Fine. I¡¯ll admit it¡¯s okay to be struggling with tests if you admit there¡¯s nothing wrong with you.¡±


    Nothing wrong with me. If I¡¯d heard her say that a month or two ago, I would have laughed in her face. But maybe she does have a point. Maybe Edward was his usual annoyingly right self every time he told me that.


    ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with me,¡± I say experimentally, testing how the words feel and how much I believe them.


    ¡°Good,¡± says Elsie. ¡°It¡¯s okay for me to be struggling with tests.¡±


    ¡°And while we¡¯re pretending to be sensible people,¡± I continue, ¡°we should probably stop work for tonight.¡±


    So that¡¯s what we do.


    I read the True History for what was supposed to be an hour or two. But I made the mistake of not asking anyone to stop me this time, which means I realise just as I¡¯m about to start the last chapter that it¡¯s midnight and thirty. Oops.


    It¡¯s only one more chapter, though, and it wouldn¡¯t take me that long¡­ would it?


    I snap the book shut before my will to resist temptation is exhausted. Sleep is more important. I won¡¯t do well tomorrow ¨C today, technically, now ¨C without it. At least the combination of the episode earlier in the evening and most of my mind still being lost in history means that I¡¯m not going to have another Malaina episode now.


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    Small mercies.


    Another small mercy is that what sleep I get is good. I wake far too early, but feeling somewhat refreshed. And the good thing about waking far too early is that it means I can read the last chapter of the True History in bed.


    It¡¯s seven and thirty when I get the familiar bittersweet feeling of finishing a book. I wish there was another chapter, so I had the excuse of carrying on with it rather than having to get up and face the world. Though if there were another chapter I¡¯d probably end up missing this morning¡¯s first test.


    I meet Edward for breakfast as usual. I don¡¯t tell him how I spent yesterday evening. ¡°I finished my book,¡± I say instead.


    ¡°Any good?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Yes. Very.¡±


    He pauses. ¡°It¡¯s probably a bad idea to ask you to tell me about it.¡±


    I didn¡¯t tell him about the part where I accidentally revealed I had the True History to Elsie, Elizabeth, Robin and anyone who happened to be sitting in the caf¨¦ and listening to our conversation. He would be (quite justifiably) far too annoyed at my inadequate precautions.


    Which reminds me: I agreed to lend Elsie the True History once I was finished with it. So now I¡¯ll have to explain where I actually obtained it from. I don¡¯t think that secret being told to one more person will hurt anything; it would just be awkward.


    I¡¯ll just get through another day¡¯s tests, and I can deal with that problem afterwards. Giving the book to Elsie will prevent me spending precious revision time on rereading it and taking proper notes, though even with just what I¡¯ve remembered there¡¯s dozens of things I¡¯m longing to cross-reference.


    The day¡¯s first test is theoretical Conjurations and Transformations. This goes better than the practical test, since whatever problem means I¡¯m still struggling with conjuration doesn¡¯t make a difference to my understanding of the theory. There¡¯s one particularly nasty question about the structure of different materials and the effect that has on their conjuration, which I spend a full ten minutes staring at without making any progress.


    I have to leave it blank in the end, and ask Edward about it as we walk to the next test. His explanation is at once absurdly simple and unexpected enough I don¡¯t understand how we mere mortals were ever supposed to guess that was what we were expected to do.


    I¡¯m still puzzling over it by the time we reach theoretical Countering Magical Effects. We don¡¯t have quite the same feeling of impending doom as we did before the practical test ¨C how bad can a written test be, even if Electra was the one who wrote it?


    I should probably have realised that even thinking that question was tempting fate. Half an hour into the test, I have successfully answered precisely one question. This is impossible ¨C how does she expect me to do this? Half the questions are on topics we¡¯ve only briefly touched on, and the other half present things in such a strange way it takes me a couple of minutes just to work out what¡¯s being asked.


    I¡¯m just not good enough to stand a chance against these questions. I probably never will be.


    I notice my breathing quickening, my heartbeat speeding up. Lovely. As if it wasn¡¯t bad enough already, now I¡¯m going to have to lose a few precious minutes just to avoid a starry active episode.


    It¡¯s far better to fail this test than to have an active episode, I tell myself firmly, and close my eyes. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. I get as far as Maria the Seafarer before my breathing and heart rate feel sufficiently normal that I open my eyes and carry on.


    The questions have not magically become more comprehensible while I wasn¡¯t looking, not that I expected them to. I do notice a detail in the wording of question four that I missed earlier, though, which lets me make much more progress.


    There are seven questions in total, and of the first six I attempt I complete two. The seventh is quite possibly the nastiest of them all, I see as I turn the paper over. It consists of a detailed description of a system of enchantments with multiple levels of redundancy, and we¡¯re asked how we would disrupt the system without being detected.


    I cannot see a plausible way, the system is that complex. Each component is designed to be resistant to all forms of purging-spell I know, and the redundancy is such that even destroying one of the components would leave another capable of performing the same function and trip multiple detection enchantments in the process.


    Is it a trick? It would be very like Electra to make half the questions tricks. I¡¯m not used to spotting tricks and thinking in unexpected patterns, though. The whole point of revision is to understand exactly what¡¯s expected of you and what patterns the questions will follow before you get into the test.


    I glance at the clock. Three minutes left.


    There is also the possibility that the questions aren¡¯t tricks, and by trying to answer them as if they are I¡¯m losing out on legitimate answers and quite possibly annoying Electra into the bargain.


    I flick back through the paper, trying to think. The emotional dampening that follows the episode earlier is putting me at a disadvantage now, making it harder for me to feel a sense of urgency. It matters, though. It¡¯s important.


    I don¡¯t know what to do. I don¡¯t know the answers.


    This is probably exactly what Electra wants, isn¡¯t it? Stars, I hate her.


    Well, sort of. It¡¯s complicated. I almost wish she hadn¡¯t helped me so much so I could just think she was evil.


    That¡¯s not relevant right now. I need to focus. I can think of something that might scrape me a few more marks, can¡¯t I?


    I write down a few vague ideas that I don¡¯t have time to properly explore, and then dive into a calculation I definitely won¡¯t be able to finish in two minutes. But I might pick up a mark or two along the way, and I can¡¯t bring myself to stop working when I¡¯m so very much not finished.


    My prediction is correct: I¡¯m only halfway through a mess of workings when Electra announces time is up. I flop backwards in my chair and close my eyes. I can¡¯t remember the last time any test or exam went quite that badly (not counting Electra¡¯s practical exam). I should be better than that.


    It¡¯s just Electra being her usual evil self, isn¡¯t it? Stars, tell me it is, tell me that this test was very much abnormal.


    I pack my things away and leave the classroom. The moment we step outside, the conversation bubbles up. ¡°That was awful ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I answered anything correctly ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I swear we hadn¡¯t covered what we needed for that ¨C ¡°


    I glance at Edward. ¡°Just so you know, if you say you found that easy I think half the class will probably try and kill you.¡±


    ¡°Try,¡± he says.


    Why does he have to turn my jokes into something darker and more serious than they were intended to be? ¡°Okay, so maybe they¡¯d fail, but the collateral damage would get you into a lot of trouble ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Wait, you think I¡¯d deal with them myself? I¡¯d just knock on the classroom door and Electra would come out and solve the problem for me.¡±


    That would probably be an effective strategy, if we could rely on Electra to not just stand and watch. ¡°Anyway,¡± I say, not wanting to take this kind of half-joking too far in public. ¡°If I ask how it went for you¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d say that it is definitely not the kind of test anyone who hasn¡¯t been studying magic since they were old enough to read can expect to give a realistic assessment of their abilities. That last question in particular¡­ I have questions for Electra about that.¡±


    I doubt that trying to interrogate Electra would be productive.


    ¡°Just forget about it and move on,¡± Edward says. ¡°If you really want we can go through it together after these tests are done.¡±


    ¡°That¡­ would probably be quite helpful, actually.¡±


    I take his advice, as well, or try to. The break isn¡¯t particularly restful, but I make it to the next test on time and not in the grip of a Malaina episode. I guess that¡¯s about all I can hope for.

 87. Lake

    Fortunately, the next test in question is Magical Law and Culture. I find the kind of focus required for that a lot easier than casting or calculating. After the essay last time, this one is a series of short-answer questions, mostly just recalling facts. The sort of thing this class was intended to be, though Sam¡¯s teaching style makes it infinitely more interesting.


    It¡¯s certainly the easiest test I¡¯ve encountered; I can actually recall the various facts I need to. I¡¯m a little terrified I¡¯ll suddenly come across something I should know and don¡¯t, but it doesn¡¯t happen, and then it¡¯s over.


    I feel better coming out of the test than I did going into it, which is a pleasant surprise. Lunch is filled with complaints about Electra¡¯s test. That does not help my newly improved mood. I keep my silence and listen to everyone else discussing how ridiculous the questions were and how little progress they made on them.


    ¡°Robin,¡± says Edward when there¡¯s a lull in the conversation, ¡°did you solve the last question?¡±


    ¡°Did you?¡±


    The moment of silence after that tells me all I need to know. Edward did not solve the last question. And if even he couldn¡¯t do it, what hope was there for us mere mortals? It¡¯s just like Electra to set an impossible question to waste our time.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think a solution exists. But proving that would have taken a few hours, maybe more.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t find one,¡± Robin says. ¡°I agree; there¡¯s probably no solution.¡±


    ¡°Why would she make a problem like that?¡± complains Elsie.


    ¡°Because she¡¯s Electra, obviously,¡± says Hannah. ¡°I¡¯d honestly be more concerned at this point if she gave us a nice normal easy test.¡±


    I laugh. That is probably a good point.


    Only three more tests now. I¡¯m counting them down one by one. Three tests, three days, then it¡¯ll be over and I can properly rest. The first of them is right after lunch. Theoretical Enchantments. This is where Edward¡¯s extra-curricular lessons really come in useful ¨C he¡¯s very pedantic about making sure I properly understand the theory of what I¡¯m trying to do, which is often more advanced than what we cover in class.


    I was sceptical when he first decided to teach me, but I have to admit it was a good idea.


    The test goes as smoothly as I could have expected. I mess up one of the calculations, because I¡¯m tired after two and a half days¡¯ straight tests, and don¡¯t quite have time to go back at the end and fix it. It won¡¯t make that much of a difference to my final marks, I tell myself.


    We have a free period afterwards. I need to revise more Magical Theory for tomorrow; there¡¯s still a few topics I¡¯m shaky on, and the fact none of them came up on the previous test means I¡¯m likely to encounter them this time.


    Edward reluctantly agrees to be my ¡°study partner¡±. To be fair, he is studying, just not anything that¡¯s ever going to feature on these tests. Apparently his Advanced Magical Theory teacher gave him extra reading.


    ¡°I must have looked too bored when he was explaining normal spell forms,¡± Edward explains. ¡°I think I was in the middle of a wardwork project at the time and just wanted to get back to that. He doesn¡¯t like me very much; doesn¡¯t think first-years should be allowed into his class.¡±


    The idea of anyone thinking Edward isn¡¯t good enough to be in their class is absurd. ¡°Even you?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps especially me. I think it¡¯s that he thinks I just got in because of my dad rather than because I¡¯m actually good enough.¡±


    I do wonder whether Edward would have been allowed to sit the advanced class if his father wasn¡¯t Lord Blackthorn, but regardless there¡¯s no doubt that he deserves his place there. ¡°So¡­¡± I say after he¡¯s silent for a few seconds.


    ¡°So he started interrogating me on everything we¡¯d covered in class and quite a few things we hadn¡¯t. Thankfully he was at least reasonable enough to accept the truth, and now he¡¯s giving me extra reading so I don¡¯t get bored in class, and he¡¯s going to test me on it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good, right?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I¡¯d rather be able to choose what I work on myself, but he does know what he¡¯s talking about and having a proper teacher might be helpful.¡±


    It¡¯s a good thing I¡¯m used to him now, because it makes it a lot easier to hide my instinctive reaction to that.


    ¡°Anyway. Speaking of magical theory, weren¡¯t you supposed to be working on it?¡±


    I was. I guess I must have been unconsciously using his story as an excuse to procrastinate. I hate it when I do that. I can at least get to work now, though. I force myself to open my textbook to the relevant page and begin to read.


    Edward does seem to be taking his extra reading seriously. There¡¯s apparently some new material in the books he¡¯s been given ¨C I wish he wouldn¡¯t sound so surprised by that ¨C and he wants to make sure he thoroughly understands it all.


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    Meanwhile I can¡¯t thoroughly understand a good portion of what we¡¯ve covered in class. I make it an hour and a half before giving in and begging Edward for help. His explanation takes all of thirty seconds and makes me wonder why I couldn¡¯t have figured it out on my own.


    That pattern repeats itself a couple more times before it¡¯s time to break for food (well, I say ¡°break¡±; Edward doesn¡¯t want me to keep going after dinner, and I don¡¯t particularly want to myself).


    It¡¯s just the two of us eating together ¨C we lost track of time a little, so it¡¯s six and forty by the time we make it to the dining hall and the others have already left. Edward prefers it that way, I think; he certainly seems more relaxed. There¡¯s always a faint tension in him when he¡¯s around the others, as if he can¡¯t quite let his guard down.


    We end up discussing politics again. The current Deputy Prime Minister is caught up in a minor scandal which Edward says is being blown out of proportion because of the impending election. Ariana Carling, the leader of the United Reformists, debated the leader of a minor traditionalist party. The debate was largely judged to be a victory for her, as much because of her apparent natural charisma as because of the strength of her arguments.


    Meanwhile Parliament is in its usual pre-Holy-Days chaos as everyone frantically tries to push their bills through before the Parliamentary session ends and they have to start again from scratch next year. Edward¡¯s dad is being forced to spend much of his time playing politics instead of getting on with the important business of keeping the country safe.


    For a politician, Lord Blackthorn has a remarkable disdain for politics. He seems to see it more as a necessary evil than anything else.


    But our discussions make a surprisingly good distraction from revision. Until we finish eating. I should get back to work, but just the thought of it makes me feel dread. But if a question comes up on one of the topics I haven¡¯t got to yet¡­ if just doing those couple more hours could make a difference to whether I can answer that question or not¡­


    I force myself to stand up, sling my satchel over my shoulder, and head for the nearest study room.


    ¡°You¡¯re working?¡± asks Edward, following me.


    He¡¯s going to try and talk me out of it. I might let him. ¡°I need to.¡±


    ¡°Do you?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not prepared ¨C ¡°


    ¡°How underprepared did you feel for the other tests?¡±


    ¡°About the same as this, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And how well did you do on the other tests?¡±


    ¡°Electra ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Sorry. Should have clarified. How well did you do on the other tests that were set by normal, sane teachers?¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing a little. ¡°Quite well, I suppose. But maybe I could have done better ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah.¡± He¡¯s talking in that strange intense tone again, and I accept the inevitable and listen to him. ¡°These tests are pass/fail. As long as you pass, your grade does not matter whatsoever. It will never make a difference whether you get eighty percent or ninety or a hundred.¡±


    I give him a sceptical look, but when I force myself to consider it rationally I can¡¯t find a counterargument. ¡°Yes,¡± I say, ¡°but¡­¡±


    He stares at me as I trail off into silence. He doesn¡¯t need to say but what?


    I sigh. ¡°Fine. You win. I won¡¯t work. Happy now?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be happy when I see that you¡¯ve passed everything with excellent marks and not worked yourself to death in the process. And yes, exception for Electra, but she¡¯s at least not going to fail you.¡±


    He sounds very confident of that. I do agree with him ¨C while Electra can be petty, cruel even, I don¡¯t think she¡¯s the kind to fail students for not succeeding at her impossible tasks. But you can never be quite sure with Electra.


    I don¡¯t quite know what to do with my new free evening, which makes me feel worse about not working. I¡¯ve finished the True History, and I¡¯ve told myself I won¡¯t let myself get sucked into rereading and cross-referencing until the tests are over. If I¡¯m allowed to keep it over the holidays, that would be a good project to keep me busy. I should check and find out the Academy¡¯s policy on keeping library books outside of term-time.


    I know it doesn¡¯t entirely shut down except for the Holy Days themselves; academics and researchers keep working throughout the holidays, and there are many of them attached to the Academy. So the library will still be open. And the fact I¡¯m borrowing history books rather than anything directly related to the areas of research should be a point in my favour.


    I can¡¯t check now, though: the library is not open this late.


    I settle for collapsing on my bed and staring into space. I¡¯m tired, I realise suddenly. It¡¯s a strange thing about tiredness, how you can keep going for three straight days of tests and then the moment you tell yourself you can rest it all hits you at once. Still, I can¡¯t exactly go to bed at seven and thirty after noon.


    Maybe some fresh air would do me good. A stroll around the gardens. I laugh a little to myself at the thought that I can just go and stroll around the gardens of the palace I¡¯m living in as if that¡¯s a perfectly normal thing to do.


    I feel a little more awake now that I have a purpose. I wrap myself in my coat ¨C it¡¯ll probably be cold, since it¡¯s certainly dark ¨C and tug on my thick boots.


    I was right; it is cold. I regret my decision as soon as I step outside the Academy and feel the biting wind on my cheeks. Still, now I¡¯ve gone to the effort of coming out I might as well walk for a little. I¡¯ll go down to the lake; it¡¯s a clear night, so I imagine the reflection of the stars will be beautiful. And it might serve as extra revision for Astronomy on Friday.


    ¡°See, Edward?¡± I say to the empty air. ¡°I¡¯m still working.¡±


    It¡¯s almost eerily quiet outside. I don¡¯t feel unsafe, though: the Academy has somehow become home over these last few months, and whatever monsters are lurking in the darkness of my imagination can¡¯t make it into the gardens. It¡¯s just me and the lawn and the stars.


    I look up and watch them and wonder if they¡¯re watching me back. I always used to think they didn¡¯t much care for ordinary people like me ¨C but I¡¯m not much of an ordinary person now, am I? Maybe, if only by association, I¡¯m now worthy of some fragment of their attention.


    ¡°I guess that¡¯s probably heresy, isn¡¯t it?¡± I say to the stars. ¡°Sorry. If you are watching me, I¡¯m not a heretic, it¡¯s just¡­ hard to believe, when your prayers aren¡¯t answered.¡±


    I cast a light-spell and pad across the grass, guided by its dim glow, towards the lake. As I get closer, I realise I¡¯m not alone. I can hear what sounds like¡­ crying?


    Is there someone out here? Alone and sobbing by the lakeshore? The lake is a deep one; you could probably drown in it. I hate that my thoughts have gone to such a dark place. I need to find this person and make sure they¡¯re going to be okay.


    I follow the sound of the sobs, which leads me down the path I was taking anyway, to the edge of the lake. A small figure is crouched at the edge of the lake, silhouetted against the dark water, rocking back and forth and sobbing.


    My footsteps barely make a sound against the grass, but the glow of my light can be seen by anyone paying attention. Once I¡¯m only a few yards away and the light reaches the edge of the water, the figure rises and turns to face me, their sobs ceasing instantly.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says distantly, and I recognise her with a start: Elsie.

 88. Future

    I blink a few times. ¡°Elsie,¡± I reply. ¡°What ¨C are you ¨C what ¨C ¡° I¡¯m trying to ask what are you doing here and what happened and are you okay and can I help all at once, and it¡¯s not really working.


    ¡°I had to get away,¡± Elsie replies. Her voice still has that distant note, as if she¡¯s not quite focused on what she¡¯s saying.


    ¡°From¡­¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    That stings a little, and I flinch. She doesn¡¯t mean it to be cruel, though; it¡¯s easy to feel like you¡¯re alone when you¡¯re not. ¡°Try me,¡± I offer.


    She shakes her head. ¡°Leave me alone.¡±


    I flinch again. I would go, but I can¡¯t shake the thought I had earlier, before realising it was her there. I couldn¡¯t live with myself if I left and she¡­ ¡°I¡¯m not going anywhere until I¡¯m sure you¡¯re okay.¡±


    Elsie laughs bitterly. ¡°I¡¯m not okay. I¡¯m never going to be okay.¡± But she sounds present now, fully part of the conversation.


    I do understand then, at least a little. Whatever has happened, it¡¯s torn her life apart. If it were Edward, I¡¯d hug him and not let him go and wait until he was ready to talk, but I don¡¯t know and understand Elsie quite as well. ¡°If you want to talk about it, I¡¯m here. You can trust me.¡±


    She laughs again, still with the same bitterness. ¡°You¡¯re best friends with Edward starry Blackthorn. You¡¯d tell him ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t,¡± I say, forcing myself not to hesitate.


    ¡°Swear it by starlight. That you won¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    I nod once. ¡°I swear by sacred starlight ¨C ¡° I glance up once again at the stars and wonder if they can hear my oath ¨C ¡°by the light that guides me at night, by all that is holy, that I will not reveal what you are about to tell me to another soul, not even Edward.¡±


    She takes a deep, shaky breath. ¡°The fortune-teller that day,¡± she says.


    Of course it was that. I guessed that conversation had affected Elsie more than she was letting on, I thought about trying to get her to talk about it, and then I forgot. Because of the tests. Were they really more important to me than my friend? Have I really been so lost in them that ¨C


    I feel my heartbeat quickening. I can¡¯t have a Malaina episode now; I need to be here for Elsie. Charles First-King. ¡°The fortune-teller,¡± I agree. ¡°What did she tell you?¡±


    I¡¯m ready to tell her that the woman was most likely a fraud, that even if she prophesised something terrible it won¡¯t come to pass, that perhaps she was manipulating Elsie. I¡¯m not ready for what she says next.


    ¡°She told me I was like her. Gifted with sight beyond sight. She was right.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± I say flatly. It¡¯s not the right thing to say, but I don¡¯t know what the right thing to say is. I don¡¯t know how to deal with this. At all. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Just keep breathing, Tallulah. ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C I just ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Knowledge of the gift is enough to awaken it,¡± Elsie says. ¡°So now¡­ I¡¯ve been seeing things I shouldn¡¯t ever since.¡±


    I take a deep breath, trying to absorb the revelation, and ask the obvious question. ¡°What¡­ sort of things?¡±


    ¡°It seems to be¡­ glimpses. Of people¡¯s futures, when I¡¯m close to them. It varies a lot, though, I haven¡¯t worked out exactly what. Most of the time I can turn it off, but sometimes I can¡¯t. Especially when I¡¯m tired, and just now¡­ I was seeing the future of everyone in my dorm and I couldn¡¯t ¨C I needed to get away from everyone ¨C ¡°


    That¡¯s why she wanted me to leave. She wanted to stop the visions, which meant she had to be alone. But I didn¡¯t leave, which means ¨C she could be seeing my future, right now.


    For a second I want to ask her about it, but I realise quickly that¡¯s a bad idea. Elsie clearly hates her newfound power ¨C I¡¯m not sure why, but it doesn¡¯t entirely surprise me ¨C and my asking her to use it would make things far worse. But that means she knows things about me that I don¡¯t know myself, and¡­


    Stars. I really don¡¯t know how to deal with this. I take a breath. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, ¡°for telling me.¡± It can¡¯t have been easy; I remember how I never told anyone I was Falling. It means more than I care to admit that she trusts me enough for it. ¡°What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Elsie whispers. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t want it, do you?¡± Maybe I¡¯m stating the obvious. But if I can at least find out how she feels, I can maybe help her.


    She shakes her head mutely. ¡°You¡¯ve read enough history to know what normally happens to seers and oracles.¡±


    I have, and it is not pretty. Most of them end up beholden to some powerful lord or magician, their gifts worked endlessly to serve their masters, never having control over what their visions are used for. There¡¯s a famous tragedy, She Who Saw Darkness, about Lucius the Usurper¡¯s personal oracle. I don¡¯t know if it¡¯s historically accurate, but it¡¯s certainly chilling.


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    ¡°That¡¯s why you don¡¯t want Edward to know,¡± I say. Because Edward, whatever else he may be, is loyal to his father above all else. And Lord Blackthorn would think nothing of adding an oracle to his collection of people. He¡¯d probably treat Elsie a lot better than Lucius treated his seer, but I wouldn¡¯t want that in her place either.


    I want to tell her that Edward wouldn¡¯t betray Elsie¡¯s secret to his father. But I honestly don¡¯t know if he would.


    I wish suddenly that I already knew how to cast privacy wards, so I could be certain that no-one was listening to this conversation. ¡°If that¡¯s not what you want,¡± I say, ¡°then no-one else can know.¡±


    She nods. ¡°But¡­ I can¡¯t do this on my own. I don¡¯t know anything about this ¨C I don¡¯t know how I can handle it without going mad.¡±


    Those are the other stories about oracles that are frequently told: those that forever lose a part of themselves to their glimpses or visions, who live partly in another world and lose touch with our own. ¡°You¡¯re not on your own, are you?¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯ve got me.¡±


    I say it because I know it¡¯s the right thing to say, because I know I will do everything I can to help her, but inwardly I¡¯m doubting myself already. I don¡¯t know about oracles or prophecy beyond what¡¯s common knowledge to any student of history, and I certainly don¡¯t know how to teach an oracle to manage her powers. And I¡¯d have to figure all that out while keeping it a secret from Edward.


    I can¡¯t keep secrets from Edward.


    Stars help me. Stars help both of us.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Elsie says.


    I try again to clear my mind and focus on just what comes next. Part of me wants to start peppering her with questions about the exact way her powers work, thinking up tests the way Edward would, but that¡¯s the wrong way of going about it. She¡¯s not just an oracle, she¡¯s a lost and lonely girl.


    ¡°Do you¡­ want a hug?¡± I ask.


    She nods mutely. I step closer and let her fall into my arms. I¡¯m not used to being the comforter; it¡¯s not particularly comfortable, having someone my own size resting on my shoulder, and the thick coats we¡¯re both wearing make it even more awkward. I feel a little guilty for that thought as I hold her tightly.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I tell her. ¡°It¡¯ll be okay.¡± Am I lying? I don¡¯t know if it¡¯ll be okay, but it¡¯s what she needs to hear right now.


    We stay that way for a couple of minutes, until my legs begin to grow numb. I¡¯m biting my lip to supress pain when she finally pulls away.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± she says. ¡°I didn¡¯t realise how much I needed that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome,¡± I say. What comes next. ¡°We should go back inside,¡± I make myself say. ¡°We can¡¯t spend the entire night out here.¡±


    The grimace on Elsie¡¯s face makes it clear she was considering doing just that before I got here. ¡°I can¡¯t go back inside. Not where there¡¯s more people ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re okay now, though? With me?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°I¡­ yes. I think so.¡±


    I have to force myself a second time not to ask what she¡¯s seen about me. But now I know it¡¯s possible, I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll ever be able to forget it. There¡¯ll always be that gnawing curiosity in the back of my mind. ¡°When you say future,¡± I ask instead, ¡°do you mean¡­¡±


    Elsie shrugs again. ¡°Normally a few minutes. That¡¯s how I knew it was true sight. Seeing the same things happen twice.¡±


    ¡°Normally,¡± I repeat. That isn¡¯t always.


    ¡°Once or twice, I¡¯ve seen different things. I assume they¡¯re more distant. I don¡¯t know their significance.¡±


    I have to bite my lip again to avoid asking. This time I draw blood, and hiss in pain.


    ¡°What ¨C ¡° asks Elsie.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I lie. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± she says slowly. ¡°We can¡¯t stay out here the whole night. But¡­ a couple more hours?¡±


    She¡¯s giving me that pleading look again. I can never resist that.


    ¡°A couple more hours,¡± I agree. It¡¯s not as if I had other plans for the evening; that¡¯s why I came out here in the first place.


    We study the lake in silence for a little while. The reflected moonlight and starlight is all there is to see by, since I had to extinguish my enchanted light to hug Elsie (a little voice in my mind that sounds suspiciously like Edward points out that I didn¡¯t have to and that limitation is mental rather than conceptual) and it doesn¡¯t seem quite fitting to cast another. Some moments are best kept in darkness.


    It is as beautiful as I imagined it would be, if not more so. The way it sparkles and glimmers, the light of each star distorted just a little. It feels like a holy place, almost more so than the temples I¡¯ve visited. I glance across at Elsie and know she feels that way too; she¡¯s always been the most ardently religious of my friends.


    Temple doctrine on oracles, as with many other things, is ambiguous and frequently contradictory. They¡¯re walking stars, placed among the people to guide them. They¡¯re mortals granted fragments of the stars¡¯ power. Their power comes from quite different sources, and is in fact a curse.


    I don¡¯t know what I believe, but I¡¯m sceptical of all of those explanations. I¡¯m a practical person, when it comes to it: the metaphysics doesn¡¯t really matter. What does is that the oracle I¡¯m dealing with now is my friend and I need to help her.


    ¡°Do you want to talk?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Haven¡¯t we just talked?¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C ¡° I laugh awkwardly. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant ¨C I mean do you prefer silence or conversation ¨C right now ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Would you mind if I said silence?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have asked if that wasn¡¯t an acceptable answer. Shall we walk round the lake, though? We don¡¯t want to get too cold, and moving might help.¡±


    ¡°If you want to walk, we can,¡± says Elsie.


    It¡¯s not exactly enthusiasm, but it¡¯s as good as I¡¯m going to get. So walk we do, counterclockwise. There isn¡¯t a path that goes around the lakeshore; we have to stick to the grass. I summon another enchanted light, conceding to the practicality of not wanting to walk unknowingly into the lake. I hold it cupped in my hands, letting its light spread just far enough we can see the ground in front of us.


    We call it a lake, but it¡¯s really not more than a large pond. There¡¯s no room for a proper lake in the heart of the City. It takes us only a couple of minutes to loop back around to where we¡¯ve started, but the good thing about walking in circles is that doesn¡¯t necessarily mean we have to stop.


    We go round again. The silence is almost oppressive, only broken by the sound of our grass-muffled footsteps. I suppose the ducks that live on the lake must be asleep, and if there¡¯s other wildlife around none of it shows itself or even makes a sound.


    I feel almost as if I¡¯m dreaming, between the darkness and the quiet and the way what I¡¯ve found out still doesn¡¯t quite seem real. For a moment I wonder if I¡¯ve fallen deep into a Malaina episode without noticing, but that¡¯s not usually how it happens. I¡¯d have noticed before now, at least I think I would.


    The doubt unsettles me, and so does the lack of conversation. Elsie might be comfortable with silence, but when I don¡¯t have a task to occupy my mind it makes me restless. I almost wish I¡¯d brought a book with me, or some work ¨C I suppose there¡¯s always stargazing, which probably counts as Astronomy revision.


    We reach our starting point a second time. I glance over at Elsie; her face is expressionless, and she keeps walking. I hesitate for a second and then follow her onwards.

 89. Results

    In the end we walk twelve times around the lake. There¡¯s an old superstition about walking in thirteen circles, I vaguely recall, though I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s that or the cold cutting deeper that makes Elsie finally stop and concede it¡¯s time to go inside.


    It¡¯s only nine and thirty after noon when I get into bed, but it¡¯s much later than that when I fall asleep. The questions keep running through my mind: what exactly does Elsie¡¯s power do? Was the fortune-teller not such a fraud after all, and what did she tell Elsie in that tent? And, most importantly: what am I going to do about Edward?


    There are few secrets between us now, and I know that hasn¡¯t been easy on his part. He¡¯d see it as a breach of trust if I kept something as big as this from him. But telling him when Elsie specifically asked me not to, breaking an oath by starlight, would undoubtedly be far worse. And I have to admit she had a point.


    I¡¯d like to hope Edward wouldn¡¯t tell his father, but I can¡¯t be certain of it. If I were the oracle I know he¡¯d keep my secret, but he and Elsie are barely friends; without me I doubt they¡¯d willingly spend time in each other¡¯s company.


    No, I have to keep this from him. And quite apart from moral considerations, there are the practical ones: I spend most of my time with Edward and he¡¯s perceptive enough to not miss a sudden interest in prophecy I develop and knows me well enough to see through any attempts at lies I could make.


    The thought of actively concealing what I¡¯m doing from him as opposed to merely not mentioning things, though, is not a pleasant one. I selfishly wish for a moment that Elsie hadn¡¯t told me, so that I wouldn¡¯t have this problem to deal with. But that isn¡¯t fair; she¡¯s my friend, and she needs me.


    If only I had the faintest idea how I was actually supposed to help her.


    Lying awake worrying isn¡¯t bringing me any closer to a solution, all it¡¯s doing is making sure I won¡¯t be well-rested enough for the Magical Theory test tomorrow. The tests suddenly seem so much less important, though; I feel awful for being so focused on them that I missed the signs of Elsie¡¯s growing distress for most of a week.


    There must be something I can do. The Academy¡¯s library must have a section on prophecy and oracles. Unfortunately I remember that most of those books are restricted, and I certainly don¡¯t want the only teacher who¡¯s shown any inclination to let me access restricted books knowing about this ¨C


    Don¡¯t I? Electra might be, well, herself, but when it really matters she¡¯s been there for me, kept my secrets and done everything in her power to help me. Perhaps she would do the same for Elsie. Or perhaps by telling her I¡¯d be dooming my friend. Am I mad for even considering it?


    Probably. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m wrong. I resolve to set the idea aside until I¡¯ve had enough sleep I can trust myself to work out whether it¡¯s sensible.


    I roll over and focus on breathing; while it began as a way of coping with Malaina episodes, emptying my mind helps me get to sleep as well. It must work eventually, because I wake what seems like seconds later but is in fact seven or eight hours. Six after midnight, according to the clock when I crawl out of bed.


    I don¡¯t feel particularly well-rested, but there¡¯s not a chance I¡¯m getting back to sleep. I wash and dress, then spend a little while reading over my Magical Theory notes before breakfast.


    Edward is there before me, as usual, paging through the newspapers. Various minor political scandals, different papers having different focus according to their political leanings. The leader of the Traditional Unionists apparently slept with a girl half his age, which is either morally abhorrent or a perfectly legal thing blown far out of proportion depending on who you ask. There¡¯s still talk about the Deputy Prime Minister¡¯s alleged use of government money to host a private dinner party.


    ¡°Everyone does that sort of thing,¡± is Edward¡¯s verdict on that one. ¡°Just now that there¡¯s an election coming up and people want to make him look bad¡­¡±


    Edward is considerably more pragmatic about these affairs than I am. ¡°Just because everyone does it doesn¡¯t mean it¡¯s okay.¡±


    ¡°Look, if you removed everyone doing it from office the only politicians you¡¯d have left are those rich enough to host the dinner parties with their own money. Is that what you want?¡±


    ¡°No, but¡­¡±


    He¡¯s smiling in that irritating way he does when he¡¯s waiting for me to admit he¡¯s right. I don¡¯t think he is, but right now I can¡¯t find the right words to argue against him so I let the silence linger a little while.


    ¡°What I think is most interesting, though, is what isn¡¯t here,¡± Edward says after a little while.


    ¡°Mm?¡±


    It¡¯s an invitation to elaborate, but he decides to instead make me work it out for myself: ¡°Who¡¯s missing?¡± he asks.


    I close my eyes and think for a moment. It falls into place. ¡°Ariana Carling,¡± I say.


    He nods.


    ¡°Maybe she just¡­ isn¡¯t corrupt or immoral?¡± I suggest.


    Edward looks as if he¡¯s trying very hard not to laugh. I glare at him. Maybe I¡¯m just na?ve, but surely there do exist politicians trying to do the right thing?


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    ¡°Everyone has dark secrets that can be used against them,¡± he says. ¡°For instance, I wouldn¡¯t call you corrupt or immoral, but¡­¡±


    It would probably be very easy to paint me as a villain if you wanted to. ¡°I¡¯m associated with the Blackthorns. That doesn¡¯t count.¡±


    This time he does laugh, though it¡¯s a bitter sound with little genuine amusement. ¡°You see my point, though?¡±


    I nod; I¡¯m not entirely convinced, but I don¡¯t feel like trying to debate it.


    ¡°So the fact that none of Ariana Carling¡¯s dark secrets have come out yet means¡­¡±


    Assuming I accept that those dark secrets exist, which I¡¯m not sure I do¡­ ¡°Someone is invested in keeping them secret,¡± I say. ¡°And presumably not just her United Reformists, because they¡¯d never be able to influence the traditionalist papers that much.¡±


    Edward nods.


    ¡°So some more established power wants her to succeed,¡± I say. ¡°Because¡­ what? They¡¯ve made a bargain behind the scenes?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Possibly. Possibly not. All it means is that she¡¯s useful to them. And I don¡¯t like the obvious answer to the obvious question.¡±


    The obvious question is clearly why would Ariana Carling be useful to whoever this power is? It takes me a little longer to work out the ¡°obvious¡± answer to that question. She¡¯s charismatic and radical; given sufficient power there¡¯s no doubt she would try to make radical changes.


    Which isn¡¯t necessarily a bad thing ¨C stars know the existing system is deeply flawed ¨C but one of the many lessons of history is that trying to change too much too quickly leads to instability.


    And there¡¯s a pattern of events ¨C the protests, the riots ¨C that suggests someone working behind the scenes to create exactly that instability.


    It might be that Edward is just constructing a conspiracy theory, that with his paranoia and cynicism he¡¯s seeing connections that aren¡¯t really there. Or it might be that he¡¯s right, and that¡­


    I don¡¯t know what that means, but it can¡¯t be anything good.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to ask my dad if he¡¯s dug up anything interesting,¡± Edward muses.


    I bite back my instinctive response of let me know if he has, realising after a second that that¡¯s effectively asking Edward to tell me state secrets. I would rather not learn any more state secrets than I already know. My life is complicated enough as it is, thank you very much. I just shrug instead.


    I want to get the test over with once breakfast is done, but we have Spells first. That¡¯s the first lesson all week that isn¡¯t a test, which I¡¯m initially pleased about. I hadn¡¯t thought about what we would be doing instead. Going through the tests, it turns out ¨C and getting our results back.


    I don¡¯t want to get my results back. All I can think of is everything I messed up, every calculation I could have got wrong and spell I might not have cast correctly. I know, objectively, that I didn¡¯t do too badly. That there¡¯s not a chance I could have failed.


    But there¡¯s a big difference between knowing something and believing it.


    I¡¯m not surprised to find that when I try to channel magic into my enchanted bead, nothing happens. I¡¯m only surprised that I¡¯m not deeper into an episode already.


    ¡°Lizzie, would you come up and hand these out to everyone, please?¡±


    Elizabeth, who¡¯s long since given up telling Felicity she doesn¡¯t use that nickname, gets to her feet.


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I close my eyes, focus on the rhythm of my breathing and my list of kings. It¡¯s going to be okay. I haven¡¯t failed. Simon the Drunkard.


    I feel something brush against my hand: Edward. Of course he noticed, or guessed this would happen. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.


    I hear the rustle of papers being set down on the desk. ¡°There you are,¡± says Elizabeth.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± says Edward.


    My heart skips a beat and the fragile control I¡¯ve begun to establish slips, but I force myself to echo his words. Timothy the Peacemaker. Maria the Seafarer.


    ¡°You did well,¡± says Edward.


    Wait, he looked at ¨C no, I¡¯m being stupid, the marks are probably displayed right on the front of the papers, easily visible. Which means I¡¯ll see them as soon as I open my eyes.


    If Edward thinks I¡¯ve done well, though ¨C he probably has some idea of the standards I hold myself to, so that¡¯s likely accurate. It¡¯s going to be okay.


    Richard Blackbeard. I take a breath and open my eyes.


    Eighty-three percent on the theoretical test and seventy-nine on the practical.


    At once better and worse than I expected. Back at Genford I would have been disappointed with anything less than ninety for a subject I didn¡¯t hate, but it¡¯s different here. I have no experience of magic.


    It takes me a second to notice I¡¯m feeling almost giddy with relief. My hands are shaking, but my breathing is steady. I try the bead again, and it lights up instantly. I study the papers in more detail. The marks are written in large, thin quill-strokes on the cover sheet of the theoretical test. I page through, looking for where I dropped points. Pretty much in the places I¡¯ve expected, with the occasional exception where I used slightly wrong phrasing.


    ¡°Harsh,¡± says Edward, who¡¯s looking over my shoulder. ¡°I think you should have got that mark.¡±


    ¡°Are you the one teaching this class, Blackthorn?¡± asks Felicity acidly. I hadn¡¯t realised she was listening. Edward probably had realised and just didn¡¯t care.


    I shoot him a look, silently pleading for him not to get into another fight with Felicity now.


    He shrugs. ¡°No. I am not.¡±


    ¡°Then kindly do not question my authority.¡±


    Whatever he mutters then is quiet enough that I can¡¯t hear it, which means nor can Felicity. That¡¯s definitely a good sign. I keep turning through until I reach the last page and then find another sheet of paper attached to the back. Evaluation of Practical Spellwork.


    I feel a little stupid for not expecting something like that. Of course I¡¯d get some form of feedback. It¡¯s signed by Mark Wilkins, and I spend a few seconds wondering who that is before remembering he was the graduate student who assessed me. Not a fan of Malaina, but reasonably objective in his evaluation.


    He says I show promise, though in some areas my inexperience is clear. And my more precise work is remarkably good for a Malaina. Probably accurate, though the way he phrases all of it makes me tense and frustrated. Do these people never think that someone will read their words and take it as a personal judgement?


    ¡°How did you do?¡± I ask Edward, setting the paper aside to be stewed over later.


    He shrugs. ¡°Well enough.¡±


    With him, that could mean either full marks or less than me and he just doesn¡¯t care. More likely the former. ¡°Which means¡­¡±


    He shows me the paper. I¡¯m not surprised in the least to see that he did in fact score full marks on the practical section, though he apparently dropped a single mark on the theoretical. ¡°Another one that should have been awarded,¡± he says, after checking that Felicity is occupied answering Elsie¡¯s question.


    Felicity, I realise, would be exactly petty enough to deny Edward a perfect score on the slightest technicality she could find. It¡¯s a pity for her that what he¡¯s aiming for isn¡¯t measurable on these test grades.


    ¡°So,¡± says Felicity, once she¡¯s finished looking through the question Elsie indicated, ¡°let¡¯s have a look at some of the questions we¡¯ve all struggled with¡­¡±

 90. Further Results

    I didn¡¯t struggle on most of the questions Felicity decides to discuss, which makes the lesson a boring one. I¡¯m restless; I wish I could just read through my Magical Theory notes one more time. With another teacher I¡¯d just do it, but Felicity would not be pleased with me if I did, so I instead take detailed notes on the topics I did have difficulty with and try to recall definitions in my head.


    The second Magical Theory test is in fact much harder than the first. There¡¯s one question I have no idea how to do and three or four more that stubbornly refuse to come out in the way I want them to.


    I¡¯m almost thankful for Electra for inflicting such horrors on us earlier this week that this doesn¡¯t feel that bad in comparison. Without that I definitely would have had a Malaina episode mid-test, and with how pressed I already am for time I would have lost a lot of marks in the few minutes it would take me to calm myself.


    As it is, I muddle through the test the best I can, and walk out of it knowing that at least the worst is over. Just Astronomy now. I haven¡¯t given that class enough attention while revising, but with only one lesson a week there¡¯s a lot less content to get through. It can¡¯t be that bad¡­ can it?


    Conjurations and Transformations follows a similar pattern to Spells, with the return of our tests. I once again succeed in not having a Malaina episode as I get mine back. I did a little better on the theoretical part of that, but considerably worse on the practical: sixty-nine. That stings more than a little; I know I struggle with conjurations but I thought I¡¯d be able to scrape above seventy at least.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Edward says. ¡°You¡¯ll get a lot better with practice. And it might just be that the conventional casting techniques aren¡¯t working well for you.¡±


    ¡°Meaning¡­ I¡¯d have to figure out my own way?¡±


    ¡°Not necessarily. Other people probably had the same problem before. The family archives won¡¯t be much help, though ¨C there¡¯ve only been a handful of Malaina Blackthorns and they¡¯d probably just have used Siaril for almost everything anyway. It honestly might be easier to invent a new method from scratch than track down an existing one.¡±


    ¡°When you say easier¡­¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I¡¯ve never tried it before, but I know the theory. It would be quite an interesting exercise, actually.¡±


    Not that long ago I might have been offended by being an interesting exercise for Edward, but now I know him well enough to realise that¡¯s just how his mind works and he doesn¡¯t mean anything by it. And besides, there¡¯s a questioning look in his eyes that tells me that he won¡¯t force me into any experiments I¡¯m not comfortable with.


    I guess most people probably take it for granted that their best friends won¡¯t do that. Then again, most people¡¯s best friends aren¡¯t Blackthorns.


    I abandon Edward for the library after eating lunch. I claim it¡¯s to track down books to cross-reference what I¡¯ve discovered in the True History, which is partly true. The main purpose of the visit, though, is to find out everything I can about oracles. When faced with an unknown problem like this one, the library is always a good starting point.


    It isn¡¯t particularly helpful this time, though. The main message I get from the three books on the subject I skim through is that every oracle is different and no two have quite the same powers. There¡¯s much theoretical speculation about why this is so and to what extent it applies, but it¡¯s clear that I¡¯m not going to be getting a detailed guide to how Elsie¡¯s powers work.


    The only general rules seem to be that the power involves seeing things beyond normal sight ¨C the past, the future, secrets, things happening far away ¨C and that there is an associated price, greater in proportion to the power.


    I wonder what Elsie¡¯s price is. Could it be just her apparent inability to control the visions? I doubt that; most of the examples the books cite seem to have the same trouble and a price besides. Maybe she doesn¡¯t even know. Still, brief glimpses of the future don¡¯t seem as powerful as a lot of examples, so presumably her price won¡¯t be as bad as some of those¡­ though there aren¡¯t really many data points to work with. Oracles tend to keep the details of their power and price a secret, except from other oracles.


    There is a loose union of them, apparently, the Guild of Far-Seeing. Its members are promised protection from the powerful and aid in dealing with their prices in exchange for occasionally providing their services to paying customers. That seems like a deal that might appeal to Elsie, at first, but Edward has corrupted me.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    I ask myself how the Guild of Far-Seeing can actually provide the protection they claim. What would stop someone from using the powers of its members for their own ends? There are laws against it, of course, but without watertight proof they¡¯re nearly impossible to enforce against someone with sufficient power.


    The explanation Edward would give is that the Guild has a backer who themselves has sufficient power ¨C the King, perhaps? And this backer, in exchange for the protection they provide, might well request the oracles¡¯ services¡­


    I hate how plausible that thought process seems now, and how I can¡¯t just believe in promises like that any more. Even though it¡¯s probably a good thing that I¡¯m not going to naively recommend to Elsie a solution that is in fact no such thing.


    I¡¯m caught up enough in my research that I lose track of time, and when I come back to myself I have a moment of panic. I can¡¯t have stayed in hyperspace for longer than my allotted hour, at least, because no-one has come to find me. That means I can¡¯t have missed the start of afternoon lessons either.


    Still, I should probably leave. Rosie is on library duty today; normally I like that, because she¡¯s much friendlier than the other library assistants (to me, at least, though that might just be because I¡¯m her cousin¡¯s friend). But today I¡¯m just concerned that if I borrow the books I¡¯m working my way through, she¡¯ll take note of it and mention my newfound interest in oracles to Edward.


    So I can¡¯t borrow the books. But that means I¡¯m stuck with only an hour at a time, and only during library opening hours. And a large chunk of library opening hours is taken up by lessons.


    I return the oracle books to their shelves and grab the first two history books I see to avoid arousing suspicion for not borrowing anything. I realise as Rosie is checking them out to me that I probably should have actually looked for books relating to the True History to keep my cover story straight. But I was too distracted by my primary objective.


    I spent fifty minutes in the library, it turns out, and have another fifteen before afternoon lessons. It¡¯s one of those awkward chunks of time I never quite know what to do with. I want to try and find Elsie and tell her what little I¡¯ve discovered, but that¡¯s the sort of conversation we can¡¯t just have in public. Unlike Edward, I don¡¯t have the dispensation from the Board of Governors that allows me to reserve a private meeting room, and I can¡¯t cast privacy wards.


    That, at least, is a problem I can fix. I wonder if Edward would find it suspicious that I¡¯m suddenly eager to learn after having been largely ambivalent about the idea for the past week or two, and then hate that I¡¯m having to wonder that. Lying to Edward, even by omission, feels instinctively wrong.


    Either way, it¡¯s not something that can be done in fifteen minutes. I settle for taking my new books to my dormitory and seeing what I¡¯ve actually borrowed. One is a slim volume on the Second Civil War, and the other is entitled The Truth About Lucius the ¡°Usurper¡±: Villain or Victim?


    I laugh. There are many ways of interpreting history, everyone knows that, but one of the few things every book I¡¯ve ever read and teacher I¡¯ve ever had agrees on is that Lucius was unambiguously a villain. I should be open-minded, I realise on second thoughts. Miss Jenkins always used to tell us to set aside our biases and evaluate the source on its own merits.


    Five minutes and half a chapter later, my evaluation concludes that the source in question is utter nonsense. It¡¯s already contradicted established fact three times that I know of and twisted itself into knots trying to argue that the assassins who killed Elizabeth the Martyr were not in fact hired by her uncle Lucius. I have to wonder whether the author even really believes what they¡¯re writing. Who even is the writer?


    I snap the book shut before finding out, deciding I¡¯m better off being a few minutes early for Magical Law and Culture.


    That lesson also involves going through our tests, but it¡¯s much more engaging than the morning¡¯s lessons were. Sam splits us into groups according to which essay question we chose and returns our papers with detailed written feedback, then has us discuss our points and how we can improve on them.


    Elsie, who chose the historical essay, is visibly disappointed to find I¡¯m not in her group. Instead it¡¯s just me, Edward and Robin; we all wrote about the laws surrounding the invention of new forms of magic. Of course those two would, I realise: they¡¯re the ones who have grown up with magic and the ones most likely to end up inventing their own magic some day. And then there¡¯s me.


    Despite that obvious problem, though, it¡¯s a productive session. While they¡¯re both better-informed about the topic than I am, neither of them are as good at essay structure or making persuasive arguments. We all have something to learn from each other. It¡¯s a pleasant change from my usual hatred of this sort of group work.


    And it¡¯s good enough for me not to realise what comes after this lesson: Countering Magical Effects. The return of Electra¡¯s tests.


    The Malaina episode hits me almost as soon as we step out of the Magical Law and Culture classroom. I try to focus on breathing, reciting my list of kings, but it¡¯s hard when I know that every step is taking me closer to finding out exactly how badly I failed. Wasn¡¯t it Electra herself who told us that the first step in mitigating a Malaina episode is removing yourself from the situation causing it? A wild, mirthless laugh escapes me at the thought of trying to use that justification to skip class.


    Edward gives me a concerned look and offers me his hand. I nod shakily and take it. ¡°Two minutes?¡± I manage to say. Eleanor the Bold.


    ¡°Two minutes,¡± he agrees calmly, tugging me into a side-corridor to let the rest of the class pass us.


    It¡¯s enough, somehow. The episode passes on its own ¨C even knowing I¡¯m still going to the lesson, the fact I¡¯m not actively walking towards it is enough to stem the tide of panic, and the combination of Edward¡¯s presence and my list of kings does the rest. I still feel a faint sense of dread by the time the two minutes have elapsed, but that¡¯s to be expected and can be pushed through.


    ¡°Shall we?¡± Edward asks.


    I take a second to be sure my voice will be steady. ¡°May as well get it over with.¡±


    And we set off to our doom together, hand-in-hand.

 91. Feedback from Electra

    Electra is waiting for us with a smile that seems even more predatory than Electra¡¯s smiles usually are. I wonder half-seriously if she¡¯s some kind of monster who feeds on her students¡¯ fear of her. ¡°I am¡­ glad,¡± she says at precisely two after noon, ¡°to see that all of you have arrived on time.¡±


    No-one has been late to Electra¡¯s lessons for a long time.


    ¡°As you may have deduced, we will be discussing your performance in the recent test today. There is much to be discussed, since none of you completed it to a satisfactory standard.¡±


    She leaves another of her ominous pauses after that. It doesn¡¯t sting too badly, since I already know my own work was a mess, but I can see several people wincing. There are also many curious glances in Edward¡¯s direction. He¡¯s staring fixedly ahead and not acknowledging them.


    ¡°Most of your teachers will be giving you a percentage mark, I believe. I disagree with that method of teaching, but if any of you would like to know your mark you may ask me either now or at the end of class.¡±


    I really don¡¯t want to know my mark, and the thought of asking her for it is terrifying. I should, though. I need to know.


    ¡°Instead I will provide you all with general written feedback on your performance, after which anyone who wishes to discuss a particular question on either the practical or theoretical test may ask for that. Those of you who want their theoretical work returned to them may also ask for that.¡±


    She waves a hand and a stack of papers on her desk soar upwards and then float across the room, each sheet flying towards one of us until they land smoothly on the desk. I know enough magic now to realise that is a remarkable feat of spellwork and to wonder vaguely whether it is in fact spellwork or whether there¡¯s a hidden trick to it.


    That doesn¡¯t distract me from my own sheet of paper for very long, though. I stare at it with a sense of dread, almost relieved that I had a Malaina episode in the corridor ¨C if not, I know I would be having one now, and that would not be so easy to recover from. It¡¯s folded neatly in two and marked only with Tallulah Roberts in Electra¡¯s spiky handwriting.


    I hesitate for a second before forcing myself to unfold the paper.


    You performed acceptably given your starting point. Your practical spellwork is solid but you could use more practice with controlling active spells and casting in pressured situations. Your knowledge of theory is adequate, though you struggled in places with applying it to scenarios outside those you are familiar with from class. I suggest you continue with the extra-curricular magic lessons Edward has been giving you, as I believe they will greatly benefit you both.


    I stare at the paper for a second, trying to calm my whirling mind. She knew ¨C of course she knew Edward taught me that detection spell I used even though our extra-curricular lessons are against the rules. I should never have used it in front of her. And yet she¡¯s encouraging us to continue breaking the rules? Stars, does she just want enough blackmail material that she can make us do her bidding on pain of expulsion?


    With an effort, I set that aside and try to focus on the rest of feedback. Acceptable. Adequate. Those are the words she¡¯s written, but my mind replaces them with not good enough. That hurts, even though I know what Electra considers good enough is a standard impossible for me to reach.


    I glance across at Edward. He grimaces and offers me his paper. I give him mine in exchange, so he knows Electra knows about what he taught me.


    You have learnt magic almost entirely from books, and it shows. Your techniques are rigidly conventional, and you demonstrate little creative thought of your own. While this may enable you to solve standard problems, many of the problems you will encounter are not standard and have no established methods for their solution. I am happy to give you examples and suggestions to improve in this regard.


    ¡­yeah. I can see why he¡¯s grimacing now. If I thought my feedback was harsh, that is brutal. And to Edward, as well, when he¡¯s¡­ well, Edward.


    He¡¯s the first to raise his hand once everyone has looked at their feedback and the discussion begins. ¡°The last question from the theoretical test,¡± he says, when called upon. ¡°I have several points I would like to ask about.¡±


    ¡°Ask about them, then,¡± Electra says.


    ¡°Firstly, where was the example taken from?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°It was designed by a friend of mine.¡±


    The thought of Electra having friends is a strange one. But I suppose her friends would be the sort of people who design systems of enchantments as absurdly complicated as that one.


    Edward is still curious, I can tell, but I can also tell that Electra is not going to give him any more information on that front. ¡°Secondly, then. Does a solution exist?¡±


    ¡°You were unable to find one?¡±


    Electra knows that quite well, if she marked his paper. She must just want to hear him say it. What has Edward done to deserve being singled out as she¡¯s doing here?


    ¡°I was,¡± he says.


    ¡°Was anyone else here able to find a solution?¡±


    Most of the class shake their heads, but to my surprise Jake raises his hand.


    ¡°Yes, Jake. You found a solution?¡±


    There are a lot of warning bells ringing in my head. The way she says that, the fact that Edward didn¡¯t find a solution when he¡¯s so much better a magician than Jake.


    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    I don¡¯t know if Jake just doesn¡¯t notice them or if he doesn¡¯t want to back down in front of the whole class, but he says ¡°Yes. I did.¡±


    ¡°Would you care to come up and write it on the board?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t remember the exact formulation ¨C ¡°


    Electra waves her hand once more, and a tangled mess of a diagram that I recognise as that from the question appears on the chalkboard. ¡°I have a copy of your work here, if you would prefer to copy it down.¡±


    Jake, looking as if he wants the earth to swallow him up, advances towards the board. He takes the offered chalk and begins to scrawl a series of steps: cast a purging-spell on that component, then remove the connections and disable them¡­ on and on it goes until the entire board is filled with workings.


    I study them carefully, trying to find the inevitable mistake, but I¡¯ve never been good at working out that sort of thing under time pressure ¨C it¡¯s as much as I can do to figure out what each step is intended to do.


    ¡°Thank you, Jake,¡± says Electra when he¡¯s finally done. ¡°Now, would anyone care to list what he¡¯s done wrong?¡±


    I did spot a mistake in the final step, but I don¡¯t raise my hand; I don¡¯t want to be part of this game Electra is playing. I¡¯ll be sucked into it whether I like it or not, sooner or later, but I won¡¯t torment my fellow students on her behalf.


    Edward raises his hand, and so does Robin. She¡¯s the one called upon, and she points out the same thing I noticed: the last detection enchantment actually has three different connections and the removal of two of them isn¡¯t sufficient to prevent the final purging-spell from being detected.


    ¡°That is correct,¡± Electra agrees. ¡°It is not, however, the first mistake that Jake made.¡±


    Robin¡¯s hand goes down, but Edward¡¯s remains up. ¡°He didn¡¯t account for the ranged effect of the central detection spell. It clearly works on all components within a certain radius ¨C ¡°


    Clearly only to those who are far more used to magic than I am ¨C


    ¡°But there isn¡¯t enough information given to determine that radius, so any method would need to either account for the maximum possible radius or include tests to determine it and consider different cases separately ¨C it might be that a solution only exists for certain values, in fact.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Edward,¡± says Electra. ¡°Your understanding of theory is clearly thorough.¡±


    It¡¯s praise, but in the context of that feedback she gave him it seems anything but.


    ¡°So we have established that this solution is invalid.¡± With another lazy wave of her hand, all Jake¡¯s work disappears from the board. ¡°But we have not answered the original question. In fact I am not going to in this lesson; a full solution requires many advanced concepts that none of you will have encountered or else several hours of efficient and systematic work.¡±


    It isn¡¯t too hard to guess that¡¯s the case, but I didn¡¯t expect Electra to admit it so easily. It begs the question why was it on our test, then? None of us ask it, of course, but Robin does raise her hand.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°Can you at least tell us whether a solution exists?¡±


    ¡°I can.¡±


    Robin grits her teeth. ¡°Will you please tell us whether a solution exists, now?¡±


    ¡°A solution exists,¡± says Electra, ignoring Robin¡¯s frustration. ¡°Now, which other questions would you like to discuss?¡±


    It occurs to me that Electra might well be lying, purely to see if she can make Robin and Edward attempt those several hours of efficient, systematic and utterly fruitless work.


    Hannah suggests the next topic of discussion, which is the first question from the practical test. The one about identifying and removing the enchantment on the wooden block. She apparently did the same as me, gave up and cast a purging-spell without identifying the enchantment first. That makes me feel a little better about my performance.


    In fact, according to Electra¡¯s brief survey of the class, about half of us did that while the other half spent too much time trying to identify the enchantment and were unable to purge it. Edward, of course, got closest to the solution. He was the only one to discover that purging was insufficient to remove the enchantment, and hence that it at least partly involved resistance to dispelling.


    I wonder for a second whether Electra would really create an enchantment which had the sole purpose of its own sustainment and concealment, and then I realise that of course she would. She¡¯s Electra.


    That does seem to be largely the purpose of the enchantment formulation she sketches out, insofar as I can actually understand it. Edward jots it down in a form of shorthand which is completely incomprehensible to me, with additional cryptic notes. I wonder if he could teach me to understand that notation or if it¡¯s a family secret.


    That¡¯s the general pattern of the lesson: Electra interrogates us on our attempts to solve the problems, inevitably humiliating anyone who believed they found a solution before explaining how the problem was so far beyond us we could never have been expected to solve it. I take notes as detailed as I can, but I¡¯m not sure I come any closer to understanding any of it ¨C I¡¯ll ask Edward afterwards, he seems to have at least some clue what¡¯s going on.


    The lesson ends a few minutes early; Electra announces that we¡¯re free to go, but if we want our grades, our question papers or to speak to her about anything else then we should stay behind. I do want my question paper, though I¡¯m still not sure about my grade, so I remain seated; so does Edward.


    About half the class flee the room, in the end, including Elsie. Electra hands out grades and question papers to those who ask for them, and one by one the class leave until only Edward and I remain.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡± she says, returning to the front of the classroom.


    ¡°I¡¯d like my question paper,¡± I say, and then before I can change my mind ¡°and my grade as well.¡±


    Electra takes my paper from the stack on her desk and hands it to me. ¡°I will not be giving you your grade,¡± she says.


    ¡°Why not?¡± I ask despite myself.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t think knowing the number will benefit you. You already have my honest assessment of your capabilities; you are doing remarkably well given your starting point, but you still have much room to improve, and I will guide you in doing so if that is what you want.¡±


    I nod shakily. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Then I hesitate: I have nothing else to ask Electra, and wouldn¡¯t mind joining the rest of the class in making my escape, but that would mean abandoning Edward. I glance at him; he shrugs.


    ¡°I¡¯d like my question paper,¡± he says. ¡°And I have additional questions.¡±


    Electra hands him his paper. ¡°Ask.¡±


    ¡°That friend of yours,¡± he says. ¡°The one who designed that enchantment system. Who are they?¡±


    ¡°Why does it matter to you?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s brilliant,¡± Edward says simply. ¡°A masterpiece of enchantment design. I¡¯d like to meet the person who made it. I¡¯d like to learn from them.¡±


    Electra studies him for a long moment before replying ¡°Perhaps some day you will have the opportunity.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure I¡¯d want to meet or learn from any friend of Electra¡¯s, but I can understand where he¡¯s coming from.


    ¡°And about that system. You said you wouldn¡¯t discuss the solution in this lesson ¨C ¡° he glances up at the clock, which shows that two minutes of it remain ¨C ¡°but would you be willing to discuss it outside the lesson?¡±


    Electra smiles. ¡°If you do not have other commitments, that could be arranged. I must warn you that I will not be able to explain it in a manner that Tallulah can understand at her present level.¡±


    I wince, but there¡¯s no denying that the sort of explanation that will likely challenge Edward isn¡¯t something I have a hope of following. ¡°I can leave, if you¡¯d prefer?¡± I offer.


    Edward nods. ¡°Mention to someone I¡¯ve stayed behind to discuss matters with Electra, if you would?¡±


    That¡¯s a precaution, I realise, against her deciding not to let him leave. She knows it too, by the amused look that flickers across her face.


    I nod and gather my things into my satchel.


    ¡°Since there is still a minute remaining of the lesson,¡± Electra says as I¡¯m about to stand, ¡°is there anything else you wish to discuss?¡±


    ¡°I would like,¡± says Edward, ¡°to see some of the examples and suggestions you mentioned."

 92. Oracles, Astronomy and Illusions

    I¡¯m a little concerned about leaving Edward alone with Electra, but not so concerned that it prevents me from returning to the oracle project. The next step is to talk to the oracle in question, which also gives me a chance to inform Elsie of what Edward is doing.


    Elsie is almost more worried about Electra than about her own powers. Being told she was unambitious and lacking in creativity apparently stung quite a bit. I¡¯m beginning to feel that I got off quite lightly compared to many of my classmates, and I¡¯m not sure what to think about that.


    I really need to learn to cast privacy wards as soon as possible so we can have the conversation that needs to follow securely. I expect it will take me at least a few days even with Edward¡¯s help, though, and I don¡¯t want to just not talk about it with Elsie for that long.


    So we settle for finding a quiet part of the gardens, not somewhere people would expect to find either of us, and talking in whispers while keeping a careful watch.


    ¡°A price,¡± Elsie repeats carefully. ¡°I don¡¯t know what mine could be. Maybe that¡¯s because I haven¡¯t ¨C I¡¯ve barely used the power, tried not to actively draw on it, but ¨C I don¡¯t know.¡±


    That frightens her; I can hear her voice quivering. It¡¯s not a surprise. I¡¯d be frightened too, if I had to pay an unknown price for powers I didn¡¯t even want. ¡°Nor do I,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I¡¯m apologising too much again; there¡¯s no way this can be considered my fault. It¡¯s just become my way of filling awkward silences.


    When she doesn¡¯t reply, I tell her about the Guild of Far-Seeing, including my suspicions that it¡¯s too good to be true.


    She nods. ¡°I wish I could disagree with you.¡±


    That sounds a lot like how I feel whenever Edward says something cynical but annoyingly plausible. I don¡¯t feel like I should be the cynical one. ¡°What about the fortune-teller?¡± I ask. ¡°She knows what you are, doesn¡¯t she?¡±


    Elsie shrugs. ¡°Yes. But she wasn¡¯t very helpful. I cannot show you the path. You must walk it alone. I ¨C I can¡¯t do that, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not alone,¡± I say reflexively, though I¡¯m not sure I can be much help. I¡¯m already nearly out of ideas. Actually, there¡¯s the City Library ¨C I still have that pass I got when I was researching for my essay. That¡¯s only for Malaina research, but the security once you¡¯re inside isn¡¯t that strict. It wouldn¡¯t be too hard to wander into the oracle section and start paging through a few of those books.


    And while part of me hates the idea of abusing the access I shouldn¡¯t even have in the first place, of going against the Library¡¯s rules, a more pragmatic part notes that it would be better if there aren¡¯t official records of what I¡¯m researching this time.


    There won¡¯t be time today, but we could go tomorrow afternoon, when we have a long free period before ¨C


    Before the Astronomy test, which I have not revised enough for. I did some work for it, obviously, but I figured I¡¯d have this time after all the other tests are done to go through my notes again and maybe do a few more practice questions.


    It doesn¡¯t seem to matter quite so much any more, but I still feel a familiar discomfort at the thought of going into the test unprepared. I could work on Astronomy this evening, though, and then still make it to the Library tomorrow.


    And if I¡¯m going to work, I need to start now before Edward escapes Electra and tries to distract me. Then again don¡¯t I need him to distract me by teaching me privacy wards?


    Stars help me, I can¡¯t ¨C


    Yeah, that familiar feeling is more than just discomfort. I take a breath and close my eyes. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. The episode passes quickly, at least. Right, I tell myself. Astronomy.


    I soon remember one of the reasons I haven¡¯t been spending much time revising Astronomy. Some parts of it are interesting, but I can never remember the exact patterns of constellations. They¡¯re all so similar to each other: a triangle could represent the sail of a ship or the head of a dragon, a little cluster of stars could be anything from a birds¡¯ nest to a collection of gemstones.


    And I know there are a thousand legends and religious stories that set out why the constellations represent what they do ¨C I know a fair few of the stories ¨C but it still seems a little¡­ arbitrary. I¡¯m definitely a heretic at this point. As long as I don¡¯t voice those thoughts in front of anyone ardently religious I should be fine, though.


    In the meantime I just have to try and find the subtle differences between dragon heads and ship sails, or at least figure out which it is from context. That isn¡¯t all there is to Astronomy, of course, but it¡¯s definitely what I struggle with most. I know the spell that mimics the action of a telescope and allows you to observe the stars themselves, which we¡¯ll undoubtedly be tested on ¨C most likely we¡¯ll have to carry out observations as part of the test, and hence will be completely lost without it.


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    It''s a difficult one to practice, though, since it effectively makes you extremely long-sighted and limits your vision to a thin strip. Useless indoors, and completely disorientating when you¡¯re trying to do simple things like walk and open doors. I have to return to the garden to test the spell, which I do by attaching a scrap of paper to the nearest tree and reading the words written on it from two dozen yards away. The test is successful, thankfully, and I quickly dismiss the spell and return my vision to its usual state.


    Edward is in our usual study room when I return to it afterwards.


    ¡°Electra didn¡¯t murder you, then?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Just a little light torture, nothing I can¡¯t deal with.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ are joking, right?¡±


    He laughs. ¡°Sort of. Psychological torture, which is pretty much standard practice for Electra at this point. And I did get a lot of useful things out of it.¡±


    I tilt my head to one side in silent question.


    ¡°Book recommendations, a few suggestions for spells I should learn, and¡­ she offered me private lessons.¡±


    Private lessons with Electra. Stars. ¡°Did you¡­¡±


    ¡°I told her I would need my father¡¯s permission. Which is completely true. And he won¡¯t give it, so I can avoid the lessons without directly angering her. Even she wouldn¡¯t pick a fight with my dad.¡±


    Having seen the two of them together, I¡¯m not so sure of that. ¡°What do you think she was after, offering?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°My trust, I suppose. The opportunity to influence me.¡±


    Neither of us need to state that Edward will not be giving Electra that, however many private lessons and book recommendations she offers him.


    ¡°It¡¯s not a bad way to go about it,¡± he muses. ¡°I¡¯m not used to being told I¡¯m not good enough. Maybe she thought I¡¯d be less suspicious of that than of praise.¡±


    I would be suspicious if Electra praised me, to be fair, and I don¡¯t even come close to Edward¡¯s level of paranoia. ¡°Here¡¯s what your problems are,¡± I speculate. ¡°And oh, look, I just happen to have the solution, all you need to do is let me give you private lessons.¡±


    He nods. ¡°It¡¯s a pity. There¡¯s so much she could teach me. I¡¯m almost tempted to accept.¡±


    I give him an incredulous look.


    ¡°My choice doesn¡¯t make a difference. I¡¯d need my dad¡¯s permission either way, and his choice isn¡¯t going to change either.¡±


    There¡¯s something a little sad about the matter-of-fact way he says that. I wonder if he realises it. Probably not.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± he says. ¡°What are you working on?¡±


    ¡°Astronomy,¡± I reply. It¡¯s completely true, but I still can¡¯t help a twinge of guilt. How am I going to explain the planned library expedition to him? I could tell him I¡¯m going back to the Malaina research, that I want to take that essay and try and improve it. It is something I¡¯m tempted to do, something it¡¯s believable I¡¯d do.


    I¡¯m not sure I can lie to Edward, but that isn¡¯t the problem. The problem is that I don¡¯t want to lie to Edward. ¡°I just went outside to test the telescope-spell,¡± I add.


    ¡°Results?¡±


    ¡°It worked.¡±


    He looks a little disappointed, but says merely ¡°Good to know.¡±


    ¡°Test me on these constellations?¡± I ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s boring.¡±


    ¡°Please?¡± I try. Normally I wouldn¡¯t make him do this, but I¡¯m trying to distract him from my awkward hesitation a second ago.


    ¡°Okay¡­ but you have to do something a bit more interesting afterwards.¡±


    Edward¡¯s idea of a bit more interesting could mean a lot of things. I don¡¯t like the idea of all of them, but at least one is probably exactly what I want to learn right now. ¡°Deal.¡±


    I do acceptably on the impromptu test, even when Edward tries to catch me out: I only get two wrong out of twenty-something. That is mostly because I only went over them a few minutes ago before my brief trip outside, though.


    ¡°Satisfied now?¡± he asks when we¡¯re done.


    I¡¯m almost tempted to tell him I¡¯m not and I want to go through them again. But I don¡¯t really need to until tomorrow, probably; it would only be to annoy him. And I don¡¯t feel like doing that. ¡°Satisfied,¡± I confirm.


    ¡°Good. Because I want to show you a few new tricks¡­¡±


    He¡¯s been working on a more advanced form of illusion, apparently: we¡¯re supposed to cover it next term in Spells, and he¡¯s decided that his way of beating Felicity is to teach himself the entire Spells course before the holidays end to make it harder for her to ask him something he doesn¡¯t know.


    ¡°It won¡¯t be that bad,¡± he says. ¡°I know pretty much all the theory already, it¡¯s just a case of actually trying out the spells and getting some practice.¡±


    I wish it would still surprise me when he says stuff like that. It does surprise me that he expects me to keep up with him, though, because I know how little chance I have of doing the same. Every holiday while I was at Genford I¡¯d resolve to work ahead on the new term¡¯s content, and every new term I¡¯d come back having only done at most a week¡¯s work. Why should this be any better?


    I decide not to argue that point today. ¡°So, this new illusion¡­¡± I say instead.


    ¡°Animation,¡± he replies, smiling. ¡°Movement.¡± He mutters an incantation, and a blue triangle appears in mid-air ¨C and then begins to rotate steadily about its centre. ¡°Like so.¡±


    I narrow my eyes, studying it. I realise I¡¯m already wondering what the underlying thought processes are for that, how best to replicate it. Maybe I¡¯m more of a magician than I thought.


    This is apparently one of the simpler forms of animated illusion: the movement is defined when you cast the illusion and you have no control over it afterwards. That limitation removes a lot of its practical uses, and apparently only the most skilled of magicians can do much more than what Edward is demonstrating.


    ¡°I wish people wouldn¡¯t say things like that, though,¡± he adds. ¡°Because other people will believe them, and that makes it true. I bet if people weren¡¯t told how hard it was supposed to be a lot more could manage it easily.¡±


    ¡°And yet you told me,¡± I repeat sceptically.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to play mind games with you, Tallulah. Even for your own good.¡±


    The sincerity in his voice startles me, and gives me another stab of guilt about concealing the Elsie situation from him. I¡¯m already wondering if I can just tell him, if I could make him keep it a secret even from his father. Surely he would ¨C


    No. Edward might be my best friend and the person I trust most in the world, but he¡¯s also his father¡¯s son, and has that same ruthlessness to him. And even if he cares about Elsie, I¡¯m not sure it would be sufficient to overcome her new value as a strategic asset.


    Knowing that is awful, but I can¡¯t deny it to myself.


    Stars help me.


    ¡°Well, then,¡± I say. ¡°How do you cast this illusion?¡±

 93. Privacy Wards

    It¡¯s not as hard as I expected it to be, in the end. It takes me a while to slip into the right frame of mind for casting, but once I do the illusion comes smoothly. This spell is the kind that you can spend hours playing around with, exploring its limitations and potential, and that¡¯s what Edward and I do.


    I remember watching a puppet-show when I was seven or so, and being entranced by the way the wooden figures seemed to dance of their own volition ¨C until I saw the strings that held their limbs and jerked them around. This spell, used by a sufficiently good magician, could create performances with not a string in sight.


    I am not a sufficiently good magician. Not yet, I amend my thought.


    Edward, unlike me, doesn¡¯t see magic as a thing of wonder that can be used to amaze children. I bet if you¡¯d shown seven-year-old him a magical performance of the kind I¡¯m imagining he¡¯d have criticised the quality of the illusion-work. That¡¯s also why rather than trying to create realistic illusions of people and make them move naturally, he¡¯s testing the spell¡¯s limitations.


    Whirling circles of colour, rotating faster and faster until it makes me dizzy just looking at them. Thin discs that seem to roll through the table legs, briefly replacing the wood before reappearing on the other side. That goes against my intuition: the table leg is already filling that space, the disc can¡¯t be there at the same time. But of course it can, because the disc doesn¡¯t actually exist.


    It¡¯s easy to tell myself that, but somewhat harder not to flinch as another disc, this one a deep sky-blue, rolls slowly along the ground and into my foot. ¡°Edward ¨C ¡° I say, feeling somewhat disconcerted at the lack of sensation as I watch the disc move without resistance through my shoe.


    ¡°What?¡± he asks. He knows perfectly well what.


    ¡°Could you at least warn me before the next time you decide to do that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not as fun that way.¡±


    I sigh. ¡°Okay. Lesson in how normal people think: most of them aren¡¯t going to be too happy with you when you decide to attack them with illusory discs.¡±


    ¡°That wasn¡¯t an attack. You could have easily dodged it. I¡¯m still working on improving the agility of the discs, so chasing you down isn¡¯t an option just yet.¡±


    One of the most annoying things about Edward is how hard it sometimes is to tell whether he¡¯s missing the point because he just doesn¡¯t understand how normal people think or whether he¡¯s deliberately missing the point because he enjoys messing with me. This one could go either way, but I think it¡¯s more likely an instance of the latter.


    ¡°Most people aren¡¯t going to be too happy with you when you decide to insert illusory discs into their bodies in a completely non-offensive manner, either.¡±


    ¡°Why not? It¡¯s not as if it¡¯ll have any real effect.¡±


    Yeah. Definitely messing with me. Calling him out on it seems unlikely to help anything, though, so I don¡¯t bother. ¡°Can you walk up and down?¡± I ask instead. ¡°My illusion isn¡¯t walking right, and I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re relying on conscious understanding rather than instinct,¡± Edward interrupts. ¡°Fully overcoming that limitation is practically impossible, though, so I¡¯ll let you off.¡± He paces back and forth obligingly, and I try to focus on the way his legs are moving rather than his words.


    My observations are useful, but my curiosity gets the better of me after half a minute. When Edward calls something magical practically impossible, that means something. ¡°When you say practically impossible¡­¡± I ask.


    ¡°I could count the number of people publicly known to have done it on my fingers.¡±


    I give him a look that tells him firmly he can¡¯t just leave it at that without listing them.


    He sighs and spreads out his fingers. ¡°The Mages, obviously. Clara Blackthorn the First. The first two Grand Wizards of Thalia. Simone Wilde. Jason Tanner ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Who was he?¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C yes, I suppose that isn¡¯t common knowledge. He was the first true spellsinger, and according to scholars the only one ever to have achieved true mastery of the art. Anyway, Christopher Blackthorn is the most recent name on the list. My great-great-great-grandfather.¡±


    I am not particularly surprised that two of Edward¡¯s ancestors appear on a list that prestigious. ¡°You said publicly known as well. Does that mean¡­¡±


    ¡°A lot of the greatest magicians there have ever been didn¡¯t like to advertise that they appeared on that list. Especially those who wanted power of other forms.¡±


    ¡°Including a few more of your ancestors?¡± I guess.


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°All the old Siaril families of any significance probably have one or two lurking in their history somewhere.¡±


    That¡¯s his way of saying yes without technically revealing any family secrets, I suppose. ¡°Are you going to be one of them?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s dangerous. The more limitations of that nature you overcome, the closer you get to truly wielding magic, the harder it is to maintain control. Becoming Malaina rather ruined a few long-term plans of mine.¡±


    Because of how much harder Malaina is to control compared to Siaril, and because the consequences of failure are much more severe. He doesn¡¯t sound bitter about it, but I can tell he is. Malaina doesn¡¯t care about your long-term plans, though, as I¡¯ve found out the hard way. ¡°Being multi-School has its advantages, though.¡±


    He nods. ¡°Simultaneous casting is a nice perk. Or it would be, if I could make it work fully.¡±


    ¡°More conceptual limitations?¡± I guess.


    ¡°Yes. While I¡¯m still reliant on the gesture-and-incantation method the best I can get is casting one spell while maintaining another. Probably doesn¡¯t help that I support the Whittaker-Blackthorn Interpretation.¡±


    For once I recognise the concept Edward is referring to. It was discussed in one of our early Magical Theory lessons, when we were speculating on the general nature of magic. It proposes that the five Schools, on a fundamental level, draw on the same source of power and that the differences between them merely affect the individual magician¡¯s method of using it. I agree with Edward that it¡¯s a preferable explanation to the alternative that there are actually five separate systems of magic existing independently, but I can see why it would make simultaneous casting more conceptually difficult.


    We practice for a while longer. It¡¯s fun and absorbing; at times like this it¡¯s easy to understand why someone would want to invent new spells. But then suddenly it¡¯s dinnertime and I haven¡¯t made any progress on any of the things I really need to make progress on.


    That¡¯s okay, I tell myself firmly, but I¡¯m not sure it is.


    Edward suggests the privacy wards as an evening project while we¡¯re eating, much to my relief. It¡¯s a struggle not to show how eager I am. ¡°Sure,¡± I say casually ¨C too casually? I hope not ¨C ¡°I¡¯ll probably need them at some point, unfortunately.¡± And if the point I¡¯m thinking of is a lot closer than the one Edward is thinking of, he doesn¡¯t need to know that.


    He solemnly presents me with what appears to be a perfectly ordinary stick of chalk. I turn it over in my hands, trying to work out whether it¡¯s worthy of the way he¡¯s treating it, and even resort to a detection spell (which comes up negative).


    ¡°Okay, I give in. Is this special warding chalk, or just¡­chalk?¡±


    ¡°Just chalk, but finer quality than you¡¯ll get from your average shop. Enchanted warding chalk is a risky business. Only worth it if you¡¯re going for a very specific ward and know you won¡¯t need it for any others. Anyway, I suppose you¡¯ve grasped the basic principles from seeing me work?¡±


    I¡¯ve picked up something from it, but I doubt it¡¯s the thorough understanding of theoretical wardwork that Edward means when he says basic principles. Still, it should be enough to begin.


    It is most definitely not enough to succeed, as I discover a few minutes later. No matter how carefully I chalk out the circle and copy the pattern Edward shows me, every test shows that the circle has no effect. ¡°Conceptual limitation?¡± I ask, sighing.


    ¡°Conceptual limitation,¡± he agrees.


    ¡°I don¡¯t understand what I¡¯m doing wrong, though. It¡¯s not really casting, only channelling magic at the end of it. How am I messing that up?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°We should probably test to make sure that is the problem rather than the circle being drawn incorrectly.¡± He erases my last failed attempt at a ward circle from the floor of the meeting room with a wave of his hand. ¡°Draw another.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡± I salute mockingly and obey orders, taking as much care as I can. I¡¯m near-certain the last one was perfect, and Edward agreed with me, but I can¡¯t be certain.


    ¡°Wait,¡± he says as I finish my drawing with a flourish, before I can press my hand to the pattern. ¡°I¡¯ll do it.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°You can activate a circle you haven¡¯t drawn yourself?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a little harder, but since I know you and I¡¯ve seen it drawn¡­ I can do it, yes.¡±


    I move aside and let him kneel beside the pattern and close his eyes for a second. ¡°There,¡± he says, sounding satisfied. ¡°I¡¯m reasonably sure that ¨C ¡° he steps into the ward circle, and the rest of his sentence vanishes. Which is exactly the intention: the particular ward we¡¯re working on is designed to prevent any sound passing from inside to outside.


    ¡°Reasonably sure that works,¡± he finishes, stepping back over the boundary. ¡°So that¡¯s one possibility eliminated.¡± He crouches down to smudge the chalk with his hand and break the circle. It¡¯s safer to do that the mundane way, apparently.


    ¡°So it¡¯s the channelling itself that¡¯s the problem.¡± I narrow my eyes. ¡°I know how to channel magic. I can activate enchantments perfectly well. So why¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s more¡­ the form of intent required is different. Not the same as an enchantment ¨C that just absorbs your magic to power itself.¡±


    ¡°And what this ward is doing is different?¡± It seems identical to me. Magic being what it is, that¡¯s likely the root of my problem.


    ¡°It seems the same on the surface, but it¡¯s really not. Wardwork is a derivative of ritual magic.¡±


    He says that as if it explains everything. It doesn¡¯t. ¡°What does that have to do with anything?¡±


    ¡°Oh. Right. Theoretical ritual-work isn¡¯t taught that much any more, so I guess you wouldn¡¯t know. Rituals are a guide and aid to allow a magician to perform more complex and powerful spells than they would be capable of alone. The problem being that they make it much easier to try and cast something too powerful.¡±


    ¡°And wardwork is based on that. How do I know I¡¯m not going to¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, any wards you¡¯d be casting aren¡¯t going to be too powerful for you. The analogy isn¡¯t perfect ¨C with wards, it¡¯s mostly to prevent the caster having to constantly maintain them in the way a spell would need. But it should explain the difficulties you¡¯ve been having a bit better.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying I need to channel magic¡­ but as if I¡¯m casting a spell, not activating an enchantment?¡±


    ¡°Pretty much.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ how exactly do I do that?¡±


    Edward smiles. ¡°That¡¯s the part you have to work out for yourself.¡±


    ¡°¡­I hate you sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Welcome to the club.¡±


    I start to laugh before realising I wouldn¡¯t be entirely surprised if there was a shadowy organisation devoted to hating the Blackthorns. Probably not funny, then.


    ¡°What?¡± he asks, seeing my expression change.


    ¡°It¡¯s not really a joke for you, is it?¡± I ask.


    He shrugs. ¡°I make it into one. Only way to cope, sometimes. You can go back to laughing, if you like.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not how laughter works,¡± I tell him, but I do find myself smiling.

 94. Complicated Friendships

    And I eventually get the ward to work. I don¡¯t quite know how, but what Edward explained was (annoyingly enough) rather helpful. After that it was just a case of experimenting with slightly different ways of casting and trying to believe strongly enough that each would be the one that worked, until one did.


    Well. It¡¯s a start, at least. Edward damps my newfound enthusiasm by reminding me that this ward isn¡¯t actually that secure ¨C it does nothing to prevent lipreading or otherwise interpreting conversations by body language, and is powerless against eavesdroppers or magical bugs that were inside the ward circle before it was activated.


    It¡¯s an awful lot better than no privacy wards at all, though. And the wards that are ¡°sufficiently secure for most circumstances¡± are currently well beyond even Edward¡¯s capabilities and reach the level of complexity that means it¡¯s significantly more efficient to build them into a proper ward network.


    And the creation of one of those is not an easy task even for professional wardsmiths.


    Of course. I don¡¯t know why I expected something would be straightforward for once.


    I force myself not to read before sleeping; I¡¯m tired enough by now that I know accidentally staying up past midnight again will cost me, and though we may be almost finished with tests there are still lessons tomorrow.


    The last day of lessons, I realise suddenly. I¡¯ve nearly made it through my first term of studying magic. It seems like I¡¯ve been here far longer than that, with the amount I¡¯ve been through during this term.


    We¡¯re allowed to stay at the Academy for up to a week beyond the end of term, though. I intend to take full advantage of that, as do most of my friends. But there¡¯s still one more day to get through before that.


    And less than a week until the election, as the newspaper headlines remind me and Edward at breakfast. There¡¯s much speculation about its results ¨C some papers claiming the King¡¯s Party will keep its substantial majority, others claiming the country is more divided than it was at the last election and the results will reflect that.


    Edward thinks the truth is somewhere in between, but that uninformed speculation isn¡¯t productive. I agree with him.


    The other main news is the ongoing trade negotiations with Thalia, which are apparently nearing a breakthrough. Edward is less pleased about that.


    ¡°The Prime Minister knows if he can get a reasonable deal done before the elections it¡¯ll help his prospects a lot. The Thalian government also know that, which means that we¡¯re going to end up with a worse arrangement than we would otherwise.¡±


    I grimace. He¡¯s right; I¡¯ve encountered many similar situations in history. I don¡¯t bother trying to argue that the Prime Minister should be focused on securing the best arrangement for the country rather than focusing on his own prospects of re-election. Against the cynical Edward, that would get me no more than bitter laughter.


    Edward is running out of patience with the newspapers, as well. I can tell he wants more objective sources; that¡¯s a familiar feeling from reading one too many of the wrong sort of history book. And unlike for most of the country, it might well be possible for Edward to get the information he wants.


    That thought is cut off by the realisation that it¡¯s eight and forty-eight after midnight, and we really ought to be getting ready for lessons.


    Time for more tests to be returned. All I need right now.


    Alchemy is the morning¡¯s first lesson. No practical work today, so the lesson takes place in one of the spare classrooms and we¡¯re spared the trek to the labs. Edward and I are a few minutes early, and we pass them by discussing his Advanced Magical Theory results: about as good as he was expecting, apparently. Knowing him that means a ridiculously good mark.


    ¡°It was a fun test,¡± he says. ¡°The difficulty level was about right for me for once.¡±


    I feel sorry for all the people taking the class who aren¡¯t Edward Blackthorn.


    Mary is unhappy with the performance of the class as a whole, because she¡¯s uncharacteristically stern. ¡°I recognise that few of you will choose to pursue Alchemy further,¡± she says, ¡°but I do believe it is important for all magicians to have a grounding in its basic principles.¡±


    I guess the way people like Edward describe her subject as not proper magic must grate on her. I feel a little bad, but not bad enough to decide to specialise in Alchemy. At least the dangers of most magic are more subtle than setting fire to your laboratory because you blended ingredients in slightly wrong proportions.


    She seems to think it¡¯s a lack of dedication to the subject that caused our generally bad results. I¡¯m not entirely convinced she¡¯s wrong, but there are also more practical considerations: it¡¯s a lot harder and more expensive to practice brewing a potion than it is to practice casting a spell. Which means that few of us get enough practice or experience.


    I wonder half-heartedly how that could be fixed. Providing optional supervised brewing sessions for revision? It would be more complicated to supervise a group all working on different projects, but I don¡¯t think it would be unworkable.


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    Of course the only reason I¡¯m paying attention to that is to distract me from the growing sense of dread, which builds a little with every sentence Mary speaks. Alchemy is not exactly my best subject, but I thought I did at least acceptably on both the tests. Now I¡¯m doubting that.


    I reach for the enchanted bead in my pocket, wondering whether I can try to channel magic into it without anyone noticing. I don¡¯t feel the symptoms of a Malaina episode except for the pit of dread in my stomach, but I¡¯ve had episodes in similar circumstances before.


    To my pleasant surprise, though, I don¡¯t feel any more symptoms before Mary starts handing out our results. But the dread only intensifies when I get mine.


    Seventy-three percent on theory and sixty-eight on practical. Could be a lot worse, is my instinctive reaction, but it could be a lot better too. If I¡¯d just revised a little more instead of letting my friends talk me out of it¡­ could one more evening have made a difference?


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± says Edward, glancing over my shoulder. ¡°You passed. That¡¯s the only important thing.¡±


    Which is easy for him to say with his ninety-something percent on both tests. I don¡¯t need to peer over his shoulder to know that¡¯s how he did. That doesn¡¯t make him wrong, though.


    We spend the rest of the lesson reviewing the theoretical test. It doesn¡¯t feel like a waste of time, given how much I got wrong and how much I need to improve. I take notes in as much detail as possible given my writing speed. Maybe it is worth taking Edward up on his offer of an enchanted quill.


    If I¡¯m entangled with the Blackthorns whether I like it or not, I might as well take advantage of a few more of the perks that come with that.


    Edward abandons me when the lesson is done, since the next one is Magical Theory and he¡¯s long since dispensed with such basic concepts. We mere mortals who don¡¯t find the concepts basic at all are left to suffer.


    There¡¯s a dramatic difference between my performance on the two tests. Eighty-seven and seventy-one percent respectively. That¡¯s not much of a surprise, really, given my impressions of their relative difficulty. And that pattern fits with the rest of the class.


    Another hour of meticulous note-taking later, we¡¯re released to our last free period of the term. Two lessons left, the return of our Enchantments work this afternoon and then the Astronomy test in the evening.


    It makes me realise just how much this place has become home over the last few months, and just how much I¡¯ll miss it. I still don¡¯t even know where I¡¯ll be living in a week or two. Wherever my dad¡¯s been staying for the past few weeks, I suppose.


    I¡¯m definitely staying here for as long as the Academy allows me to. Elsie is going home in a couple of days (which will make oracle research harder) but Edward, Elizabeth and Robin will all be staying for the whole week. In Edward¡¯s case it¡¯s not like it makes much of a difference, with his manor in easy walking distance. I¡¯m not sure if the same holds for Robin, but then again she¡¯s not on the best of terms with her family.


    None of us are except Elsie. I guess it makes sense for a group containing three Malaina. Is Malaina the cause of our family problems, or their effect? Asking myself questions like that makes me want to genuinely return to the research I was doing instead of using it as a cover for the oracle project. But that is more important right now.


    I spend the free period with Robin, who¡¯s in a melancholy mood. We¡¯re friends, sort of, but we¡¯ve barely had a conversation away from the company of the others since that time walking back to our dorms. When she gave me her blessing to date Edward, even though I¡¯m not doing that.


    I guess even though she said it was okay, part of her doesn¡¯t entirely think it is. Feelings don¡¯t always cooperate with thoughts and resolutions. I don¡¯t really know what to do, because I¡¯m still a little uncomfortable about fake-dating Edward.


    Why can¡¯t I just have nice normal friendships that don¡¯t involve lying to half my friends for the sake of the other half?


    But she says nothing about it directly while we sit and sip tea together. In fact she¡¯s quite content to sit in silence. Some silences I like, comfortable ones shared with the right people, but this isn¡¯t one of them. I slowly nibble my cake to save myself from trying to fill the silence with awkward small talk. Robin doesn¡¯t like small talk.


    In the end we have a brief, stilted conversation about holiday plans. Robin has reluctantly accepted her invitation to the Feast of Stars, the great feast and party arranged by the King for everyone who¡¯s anyone in the Kingdom to celebrate Holy Days. She¡¯s jealous of Edward for having a father who respects the old tradition that a magician should be qualified before they¡¯re first presented at court.


    I doubt Lord Blackthorn has much respect for tradition; if he does things the traditional way, it¡¯s for his own reasons. But I do sympathise with Robin, as much as it¡¯s possible to sympathise with someone being forced to attend the Kingdom¡¯s grandest party. Which is quite a lot, in my case.


    ¡°Would you be annoyed if I asked you for details after?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°Didn¡¯t take you for the type to be interested in gossip.¡±


    I¡¯m not. But when it¡¯s the most powerful people in the country, the line between gossip and politics is remarkably thin. I suddenly feel a twinge of guilt: I know what it¡¯s like, now, to have my private business plastered all over the newspapers. And yet here I am thinking it¡¯s perfectly acceptable to interrogate Robin about other people¡¯s private business.


    If there¡¯s a resolution to that contradiction, it¡¯s not one I can find in a minute or two¡¯s thought.


    We join Elsie and Elizabeth for lunch. Edward makes himself scarce. I think getting test results has made him feel more awkward with the others than he usually does, and I can see why. The very visible reminder that he just doesn¡¯t find our lessons as difficult as the rest of us do creates a barrier between him and us. I realise suddenly that I¡¯m placing myself on the opposite side of that divide.


    Once I¡¯ve eaten I track him down; he¡¯s in our usual study room, reading an absurdly thick textbook. He glances up at the sound of the door. ¡°Okay?¡± he asks.


    I shrug. ¡°Yup. Why wouldn¡¯t I be?¡±


    ¡°Results?¡±


    Right. Those. ¡°I¡¯m¡­ actually fine about them. I still wonder if I could have done better, with a bit more time or revising in different ways, but¡­¡± I¡¯m not having a Malaina episode because of it. Which is pretty much the best I could have hoped for.


    ¡°Good to know,¡± says Edward. ¡°Are you planning on studying after Enchantments? Because I was thinking ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Oh ¨C no ¨C ¡° why didn¡¯t I think of a good cover story before this? ¡°I promised Elsie ¨C that is, we arranged to go to the Central Library together. Now that tests are done, more or less ¨C and I still have that pass they gave me for Malaina research ¨C ¡°


    Edward laughs. ¡°Trust you to illicitly use your access to the country¡¯s greatest library to find rare and obscure history books.¡±


    I laugh, too, more in relief than anything else. ¡°Don¡¯t tell anyone?¡±


    ¡°My lips are sealed.¡±

 95. Oracular Research

    I¡¯m sufficiently distracted by the mingled relief and guilt that I forget to worry about Enchantments results. I wonder how he managed to jump to the wrong conclusion, but the answer is clearer than I¡¯d like: he trusts me. He has no reason to believe I¡¯d hide things from him.


    Am I breaking that trust? Am I betraying him?


    I don¡¯t think I am, but I don¡¯t know if he¡¯d see it the same way.


    He assumes that my evident worry is because of Enchantments, just in time to remind me of the results. Hopefully he doesn¡¯t spot in my expression that I only just started panicking about that.


    It turns out to be one of my best subjects, though. Eighty-one percent on practical and eighty-nine on theory. I¡¯m a little annoyed that I couldn¡¯t have got a single mark more so then I¡¯d at least be over ninety percent on one test.


    Edward got full marks on both tests. Humphrey is the sort of teacher to publicise that in front of the entire class no matter how Edward seems to feel about that. Not that Edward gives any outward sign of caring either way to anyone who isn¡¯t me.


    ¡°Well,¡± he says once the class ends and he¡¯s finished taking what look like notes but are actually a mixture of pedantic corrections and scribbled diagrams which have little relation to the lesson¡¯s content, ¡°enjoy the Library. Actually ¨C I was thinking ¨C I could come with you, if you like? Or not,¡± he adds, seeing the look on my face.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C I¡¯d like it if you did, obviously, but I¡¯m not sure Elsie ¨C ¡°


    He flinches, and something in me flinches too at the sight of it.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry ¨C ¡° I repeat, and then ¡°I can ask her, if you¡¯d like?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he says. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it.¡±


    I do worry about it, though. Try to piece together why he¡¯d be upset by it. I guess he figured that he was finally getting on reasonably with some of his classmates, and then knowing Elsie wouldn¡¯t like his company ¨C no, it¡¯s worse, knowing that I declared that without even consulting her. That I don¡¯t think he can get on with Elsie.


    If it were just an expedition to find rare history books, I would invite him without a second¡¯s hesitation. But with what it really is, that isn¡¯t an option. Selfishly, I wish I had never gone for a walk that night and never found out Elsie was an oracle.


    No. That¡¯s not right. Leaving her to struggle alone would have been far worse. A little part of me that I¡¯m too scared to listen to wonders just what would have happened if I hadn¡¯t been there that night.


    ¡°Look,¡± I say once Elsie and I are safely outside the Academy gates. And then I stop, because there isn¡¯t a good way to say what I want to say. I know I swore I won¡¯t tell anyone, because your life and your freedom could be at stake, but I want to change my mind and tell the person you specifically don¡¯t want me telling because I don¡¯t want to lie to my friend. Would that be okay?


    She saves me the trouble. ¡°It¡¯s about Edward, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I nod. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t even ask. I¡¯m not going to ask.¡±


    ¡°It can¡¯t be easy for you to keep things from him, though.¡±


    ¡°It isn¡¯t,¡± I say simply. Trying to explain why would be messy and emotional at best. Part of it is just that I¡¯m still not a particularly good liar, part of it is that he is extremely paranoid and perceptive. But more than either of those things: if he does consider my keeping the secret a betrayal? Edward Blackthorn is not the type to forgive easily.


    It would mean the end of our friendship. And I don¡¯t know if I could survive that.


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend you¡¯re not asking,¡± says Elsie.


    ¡°I mean it. I don¡¯t want ¨C it¡¯s not right ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If you told him,¡± Elsie says carefully. ¡°Could you swear by starlight that I¡¯d be safe? That he wouldn¡¯t tell his father?¡±


    That¡¯s the core of the problem, isn¡¯t it? The reason I¡¯m breaking Edward¡¯s trust, keeping secrets from him, is that I don¡¯t quite trust him.


    I think, if I phrased it in the right way, he would keep Elsie¡¯s secret for me. But I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯s just hope clouding my judgement, maybe I¡¯m just na?ve. Maybe in the end Edward is like his father in the way that matters. Maybe he¡¯d choose his father¡¯s ambition over Elsie.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I admit reluctantly.


    ¡°Then that¡¯s your answer.¡±


    She¡¯s right, and I hate it.


    The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The queue for the Central Library is much the same as before: neatly dressed academics who don¡¯t look particularly pleased at the pair of teenagers joining them. Elsie and I are suitably quiet, doing our best to fade into the background. It only takes a few minutes, thankfully, before we step up to the desk.


    At which point the problems start. The receptionist who gave me the pass believing she was helping me against the evil Lord Blackthorn isn¡¯t there, and has been replaced by a stern old man who glares suspiciously at the pass I present.


    ¡°This is three weeks old,¡± he says.


    I nod.


    ¡°And¡­ with all due respect. Do you really need access to the Library for a school project?¡±


    I force myself to stay calm. ¡°The Academy library isn¡¯t up to date with the latest Malaina research, and I wanted to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Listen. Whoever gave you this pass might have thought it was sweet that you were playing at being an academic, but ¨C ¡°


    I¡¯m surprised at the strength of the sudden surge of anger that hits me. He doesn¡¯t know me. He knows nothing about who I am and what I want, and yet he thinks he can just write me off as a cute little girl pretending to be grown-up? I should show him what I ¨C


    I definitely should not do that. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard.


    ¡°Well, don¡¯t just stand there all day.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve shown our pass,¡± Elsie says with surprising sharpness. ¡°Either let us in, or don¡¯t.¡±


    He hesitates, and that¡¯s enough to snap me back to reality. That¡¯s the opening: for all his bluster, he doesn¡¯t have a legitimate reason to refuse us entry.


    So all we need to do is persuade him that it¡¯s easier to just let us in rather than antagonising him enough that he¡¯s prepared to refuse us anyway. ¡°Please?¡± I try. ¡°We won¡¯t cause any trouble. We¡¯ve done this before.¡±


    ¡°Stars only know how you convinced anyone else to let you in,¡± the receptionist mutters.


    My name and the story associated. This receptionist doesn¡¯t seem to recall the legend of Tallulah Roberts, and for the first time I have mixed feelings about that. Much though I¡¯d rather that story was dead and buried, he might be more likely to let me in if he knew.


    ¡°The Academy does have a partnership with ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I know that, girl,¡± he interrupts Elsie, scowling.


    I say nothing. If I look too desperate, that¡¯s conceding him power and possibly also making him wonder just why this is so important to us. If he turns us away¡­ we¡¯ll just have to think of something else.


    But my read of the situation was accurate: he sighs and hands my pass back. ¡°Go in, then, for all the good it¡¯ll do you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, swallowing my anger. We¡¯ve got what we needed from him. That¡¯s what matters.


    It still hurts. It was being told I was playing at being an academic that did it, I think. Maybe that¡¯s what I¡¯m doing. Not now, of course, but all the time I¡¯ve spent reading history books and researching obscure kings as if I were one day going to write history books of my own or make some great discovery.


    But I¡¯m not even sixteen, and it¡¯s childish folly to think anything I do now will amount to anything. Maybe if I were Edward, but I¡¯m not.


    I don¡¯t have time for moping. We have to find out everything we can about oracles before anyone finds out that I¡¯m using the pass for purposes other than those for which it was granted. It strikes me suddenly how risky this is. I don¡¯t doubt for a second that if there¡¯s ever a formal record of me abusing my pass, Lord Blackthorn will find it and start wondering about the reason for my sudden interest in oracles.


    Stars. Have I failed Elsie before I¡¯ve even done anything meaningful to help her?


    ¡°Right,¡± she says, giving me a nervous glance. ¡°Which way?¡±


    It¡¯s still worth the risk. No-one ever came to check up on us and which books we were using before. And besides this is the only idea I have left.


    I hum to myself, trying to remember the floor plan. ¡°This way,¡± I say with more confidence than I¡¯m feeling, and set off up the stairs.


    My memory is accurate, more or less. It only takes us a few minutes to track down the room which contains the Central Library¡¯s collection on oracles. And it takes even less time to lose myself in the process of working through the shelves, figuring out what would be the most useful.


    It¡¯s mostly history books. I never thought I¡¯d be disappointed by that, but I am. Not even a biography of Cassander the Second, who foretold much of the Second Civil War, is enough to tempt me. I do note with interest that his name wasn¡¯t originally Cassander. It¡¯s a moniker that was attached to him because of his price: he lost the ability to recall his own name.


    Elsie and I share a grim look as I relate that little detail.


    ¡°I still haven¡¯t figured out my price,¡± she says. ¡°I haven¡¯t noticed anything different, anything like that missing. My name is Elsie Morris. I am fifteen years old, and my birthday is the twelfth of the Snowdrop¡¯s Moon. My parents are ¨C ¡°


    I shake my head: for someone desperate to keep her power a secret, she¡¯s being remarkably unsubtle about looking for her price in a public library room.


    It¡¯s quiet, thankfully: there¡¯s only an elderly woman clambering up a ladder to fetch a book from the top shelf and a man paging avidly through a tome from the spirit-forest section. Neither appear to be paying us any attention. I feel as if I should hold the ladder still for the old woman, but that would attract the attention I¡¯m hoping we can avoid.


    Would it help if I set up a privacy ward? I don¡¯t think so: quite likely all it would do is reveal that we have something to hide. And I don¡¯t know how it would interact with the Library¡¯s own ward network ¨C most ward networks allow chalked-wards to be set up within their area of influence, but not all.


    It¡¯s Elsie who makes the first proper discovery: a faded book entitled A Study of Prophetic Tradition Among the People of Shadows. The latter phrase is an old term for those who share my dark skin, dating back to when their ¨C our ¨C population this side of the Ocean lived in isolated pockets far away from the rest of civilisation, a few hundred years ago.


    It also reminds me of the term the fortune-teller used. She called me shadow-child. It¡¯s likely she¡¯s a prophet in the tradition of the People of Shadows, and this book could explain what that really means.


    Elsie holds the book out to me. I shake my head. ¡°You¡¯re the one who met her properly,¡± I say. ¡°You¡¯d understand more of it than me. I¡¯ll keep looking.¡±


    And if the real reason I don¡¯t want to read it is that I don¡¯t like the uncomfortable feeling of being called shadow-child, thinking of myself as one of a People I know next to nothing about, then there¡¯s no need to mention that.


    Fortunately it doesn¡¯t take me long to find exactly the sort of thing I¡¯ve been looking for: an extremely large, heavy Encyclopedia of Oracles Past and Present, only thirty-five years out of date. It should list enough oracles that I have a proper sample to work with.


    I get to work.

 96. Last Day of Term

    I¡¯m not even close to finished gathering data when Elsie looks up from the Study of Prophetic Tradition to inform me that the library is closing in five minutes.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad one of us is paying attention,¡± I say, setting down my quill and absent-mindedly casting an ink-drying spell (it might seem mundane and boring, but it¡¯s one of the most useful spells I¡¯ve learnt; waiting for ink to dry is frustrating at best).


    ¡°Uh,¡± says Elsie. ¡°Actually. It wasn¡¯t exactly¡­ me.¡±


    It takes me a little while to realise that she¡¯s referring obliquely to her power. Did she get a vision of us losing track of time and having to scramble to get out of the Library? Wait ¨C that implies ¨C ¡°You can change ¨C ¡° the future you see, I want to conclude, but I stop myself in case that man who¡¯s still reading the spirit-forest book is listening.


    Elsie nods. ¡°Limitation. Its weakness is itself.¡±


    That¡¯s actually something I¡¯ve come across in the Academy¡¯s library. The one thing that prophecy cannot predict is prophecy. In other words, the future an oracle predicts doesn¡¯t take into account the existence of that prediction or what anyone does with that information. Elsie changed the future by acting on her vision.


    It¡¯s different to a lot of the stories I¡¯ve been told, the old tragedies where the hero¡¯s attempts to avert a prophecy of doom end up causing that exact doom. Scholars still differ on whether prophets are distinct from oracles and whether there exists ¡°true prophecy¡± of the kind the tragedies describe.


    I hope not. The idea of pre-written, unchangeable Fate feels instinctively wrong.


    But at this rate I''ll be so busy thinking about unchangeable Fate that Elsie¡¯s vision of me being startled by running out of time might not be inaccurate. I can at least cheat that lower-case fate by being properly prepared.


    ¡°We won¡¯t be able to come back for a while,¡± Elsie says.


    She lives in a village thirty miles from the port city of Ridgeton, and I get the sense the Portal toll to return to the capital isn¡¯t the sort of expense she can shrug off in the way Edward would. I suppose I could visit the Library on my own at some point in the next week or so, but¡­


    ¡°Will you be okay?¡± I ask, rolling up my parchment and slipping it into my bag. ¡°Going home and¡­¡± I know that being around other people constantly can make her visions worse, and she has a large family at least compared to me.


    She shrugs. ¡°I guess I¡¯ll have to be.¡±


    I¡¯ve said enough things like that to recognise the fact that she has no idea whether she¡¯ll be okay or not. I wish there was something I could do to help her. ¡°Write to me?¡± I suggest. ¡°Don¡¯t say anything directly, obviously ¨C ¡° I wouldn¡¯t put it past Lord Blackthorn to monitor my letters ¨C ¡°but you can at least let me know how you¡¯re getting on.¡±


    Elsie smiles as she snaps the Study of Prophetic Tradition shut. ¡°As long as you promise to write back.¡±


    That is one promise I won¡¯t struggle to keep.


    We make it out of the Library just before the bell rings to announce closing time, and back to the Academy in time for dinner. Edward is eating in his usual quiet corner; he glances up as we approach and then shovels a forkful of stew into his mouth. Trying to eat quickly so as to avoid us? After the conversation we had before Enchantments, that seems quite likely.


    Just as I¡¯d persuaded myself that I was doing the right thing keeping this secret, as well. ¡°Do you mind if I leave you here?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Why ¨C oh.¡± She glances across to Edward. ¡°Can¡¯t I ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I may or may not have told him you didn¡¯t want him coming on the Library expedition.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± she says. ¡°So now I have to pretend I¡¯m avoiding him to avoid poking holes in your cover story?¡±


    ¡°Our cover story,¡± I correct. I¡¯m not happy about it, but part of me is maliciously satisfied that at least she¡¯ll have to deal with some of the difficulty of keeping her secret. Maybe I¡¯m a bad person. ¡°But yes. Sorry. It was the only thing I could think of.¡±


    ¡°Right. You go try and salvage your relationship, then. See you in Astronomy.¡±


    Oh, yes. The last test. What fun. It¡¯s fine; I know my constellations now¡­ don¡¯t I?


    I grab my trayful of food with a hurried ¡°Thank you¡± and speed-walk over to Edward¡¯s quiet corner.


    He sighs as he sees me coming just before he can scoop the last of his stew into his mouth. ¡°Hi, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± I reply, setting my tray down and lowering myself into the chair opposite him.


    ¡°How was the research expedition?¡±


    ¡°It was good, thanks.¡±


    ¡°Was it?¡± he asks archly.


    If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    What¡¯s he getting at? I probably sound too tense and on edge for a Tallulah who¡¯s spent two hours lost in the mysteries of the First Civil War and is still not entirely back in reality. But then what would be bothering that Tallulah that would change that?


    Inspiration strikes suddenly. ¡°Yes, but¡­¡±


    He doesn¡¯t need to say but what? The questioning look he gives me says it just as clearly. If he knows me well enough to read me in the same way, then what hope do I have of lying to him?


    I¡¯m not lying to him. Just telling the truth in a way that happens to conceal certain things. ¡°The Library receptionist didn¡¯t want to let us in.¡±


    ¡°Well, you were trying to use a pass you were granted for reasons other than those it was granted for.¡±


    I laugh nervously ¨C too nervously? ¡°Okay. Fine. I was, but that doesn¡¯t mean ¨C ¡° There¡¯s real hesitation in telling him this, so I don¡¯t need to feign the way the words suddenly spill out of my mouth. ¡°He called me a child playing at being an academic.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯ve got it into your head that he¡¯s right. Stars, Tallulah¡­¡±


    ¡°I know I¡¯m not ¨C ¡° I say, but I hesitate. ¡°I am fifteen. And¡­¡±


    The way Edward just sits and waits for me to keep going leaves me certain that I couldn¡¯t lie to him if he thought to ask the right pointed questions. It¡¯s hard enough having to find the words to tell him the truth now. ¡°It was my dream when I was younger. To be a proper historian someday. I guess it still is.¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s a bad thing because¡­¡±


    ¡°Because ¨C ¡° It¡¯s a waste of your potential, Tallulah. You could do so much more. The money is no good. What difference does it make to anything meaningful? All this time you¡¯re spending reading history books is time you could be spending preparing for the amazing future you¡¯re going to have.


    The words bubble up inside me without resistance. Words I¡¯ve grown up with, words I¡¯ve known for years. But they¡¯re not my words, are they? They¡¯re my mother¡¯s. I guess I was told that sort of thing often enough that part of me accepted it as truth.


    But my mother doesn¡¯t understand me, as the past few months have conclusively established. She¡¯s wrong about so many things. Why can¡¯t this be one of them?


    And who is that librarian to judge me, when he doesn¡¯t know the first thing about me?


    I find to my surprise that I¡¯m smiling. Edward meets my eyes, and it¡¯s as if my newfound happiness is contagious, because a triumphant grin spreads across his face as well.


    ¡°Your food is getting cold,¡± is all he says, though.


    I¡¯m hungry, I realise suddenly. I tuck in.


    Edward lets the silence linger for a couple of minutes before he says ¡°I got an interesting message from my dad while you were gone.¡±


    I glance around the dining hall to check that no-one is listening. We¡¯re okay, though: everyone is absorbed in food or conversation or both except Elsie, who¡¯s sitting alone and staring into space. I look quickly back to Edward.


    ¡°No state secrets,¡± he says, amused. ¡°It¡¯s about the private lessons Electra offered me.¡±


    I notice then the faint tension in him. You can tell by the way he sits, as if he¡¯s ready to spring up and run or fight at a second¡¯s notice. I should have seen it before, but I was too caught up in my own problems.


    ¡°He said you should accept her offer?¡± I say, the disbelief evident in my voice.


    ¡°Not quite. He gave me his permission to do so if I think it worthwhile.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your choice, then.¡± I narrow my eyes. It¡¯s a struggle to imagine Lord Blackthorn letting anyone he doesn¡¯t trust absolutely give his son private lessons.


    ¡°I doubt it¡¯s a test,¡± he says. ¡°He sent a signed note. That¡¯s not something that can be revoked if he doesn¡¯t actually want me to have the lessons.¡±


    ¡°What does it mean, though?¡±


    ¡°That, to the best of my father¡¯s knowledge, private lessons with Electra are not a threat to me and won¡¯t influence me in ways that he doesn¡¯t approve of.¡±


    That should be reassuring. It isn¡¯t.


    ¡°Shall we go back to worrying about the Astronomy test?¡± Edward asks.


    I sigh. ¡°What does it say about my life that that actually seems like an appealing option?¡±


    There isn¡¯t much time to worry about it. Astronomy is at seven and thirty after noon, which means that by the time I¡¯m done eating and Edward is done watching me eat we only have just over half an hour. I spend it looking through my notes, and Edward spends it reading through a textbook on magical theory and occasionally scribbling a note of his own.


    Then we climb the stairs (one of the few things I won¡¯t miss about the Academy is how many starry stairs it has) to the tower and the test. I¡¯m surprised to see that Sister Emily has dragged desks all the way up here, but I guess it makes sense: with only one lesson, practical and theoretical work have to be combined. It makes the space somewhat cluttered ¨C it¡¯s considerably smaller than a typical classroom, and round, so fitting all the desks in is somewhat awkward.


    It''s a clear night, thankfully ¨C stargazing with a cloudy sky would be somewhat difficult, the spells that let you see through clouds are rather advanced and we haven¡¯t been taught them ¨C so the biggest problem is that my fingers are likely to be too cold to write properly. Sister Emily promises that she¡¯s arranged for us all to have hot chocolate afterwards.


    The thought of that is about all that gets me through the next hour. The questions aren¡¯t particularly hard ¨C I even manage to remember the constellations¡¯ shapes ¨C but the cold is painful. I spend half the time worrying that my inkwell will freeze and the other half worrying that my fingers will develop frostbite, and my writing speed is far slower than it should be. The stars watch us study them without caring for our pain.


    Only Edward and Robin don¡¯t seem to be suffering. Knowing them, they¡¯ve cast warming-spells on themselves and are perfectly fine. I¡¯m more jealous of Edward than I¡¯ve ever been. I suppose it would probably be cheating for him to cast that spell for me mid-test, though.


    But eventually Sister Emily announces time is up. We hand in our papers and shuffle shivering back inside, retreating to the nearest classroom a couple of floors down where the promised hot chocolate awaits.


    We wrap our frozen hands around our cups and take tentative sips. The atmosphere is a strange one: we¡¯re all happy to be finally done with tests and with the term¡¯s work, but between the cold we¡¯re still recovering from and the presence of a teacher who¡¯s also a priestess it doesn¡¯t feel like we can celebrate properly.


    Hannah and Lucy are organising a party for all the students in our month¡¯s class tonight. Edward isn¡¯t going, and nor is Elsie. I would have suggested a quieter event for the three of us, with Elizabeth and Robin invited as well, but Elsie and Edward aren¡¯t speaking to each other.


    I guess at least if I go to the party I¡¯ll be abandoning them both equally.


    I do manage to resolve at least some of the problem by talking to Elizabeth, though. She¡¯s not interested in partying either, so I ask her to keep Elsie company. The oracle is generally okay keeping her power under control while spending time with one or two people, so I don¡¯t feel guilty for inflicting unwanted company on her.


    I talk to Robin next; she frowns when I tell her of the plans so far.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to the party,¡± she says. ¡°But ¨C you, me and Edward?¡±


    ¡°Oh ¨C of course ¨C I understand ¨C ¡°


    She smiles a little: tense but relieved that I¡¯m not making a big deal of her unwillingness to be alone with her crush and his ¡°girlfriend¡±. ¡°I might join Elsie and Elizabeth. I might not. See you around at some point, I suppose.¡±


    Just me and Edward this evening, then. There¡¯s definitely worse company I could have.

 97. Truth Trades

    Neither of us are the type for big celebrations. I guess if we were, we¡¯d be partying with the rest of the class. I heard a rumour that Hannah had managed to procure some alcohol, which only made me more determined to stay away given that half the class aren¡¯t of legal drinking age.


    So the evening begins with Edward and I curled up in armchairs in the common room, staring at each other.


    ¡°We could play a game?¡± I suggest. The common room has a small shelf of games for shared use: cards, dice, a checkers-board.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°If you want to.¡±


    I shrug back. It¡¯s something to do, but playing games with Edward seems like it would be somewhat awkward. Especially given the notable lack of enthusiasm in his voice. ¡°Or¡­¡± my voice trails off as I desperately try to think of other ideas. It scares me to realise how little time I¡¯ve spent just having fun with other people. ¡°Or we could talk?¡± I suggest, an idea occurring to me.


    ¡°About¡­?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s party games people play. Truth Trades ¨C ¡° I wince a little as I mention the names ¨C ¡°I Have Never ¨C though obviously we don¡¯t have to use the same ruleset, we can do it the way we want to, but the idea of it ¨C ¡°


    I stop, because Edward is looking at me blankly.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know ¨C how ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Because those are ways normal people entertain themselves, and I¡¯ve never had cause to know that.¡±


    That¡¯s almost enough to make me give up on my attempts to teach Edward how normal people think in despair. There¡¯s only so much any teacher can do with a student who doesn¡¯t want to learn. And now I have to explain the stupid games to him.


    ¡°Truth Trades is a game where¡­ you ask another player a question, and they have to answer it truthfully or forfeit the game. If they answer, then they get to ask the next question. And it keeps going until there¡¯s only one player left, and they win.¡±


    ¡°How do you know the answers are truthful, though?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t. But if you lie then that¡¯s cheating.¡±


    Edward is clearly wondering what the point of the game is if anyone can cheat and there¡¯s no way to enforce it.


    ¡°Most of the time people ask¡­ personal questions. About relationships, and so on. It¡¯s supposed to be awkward and embarrassing for everyone. Though I guess if you played¡­¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t play.¡± He pauses. ¡°Though you seem to know quite a bit about this game¡­¡±


    ¡°I never played it,¡± I protest. Too quickly.


    ¡°Really?¡±


    I grimace. ¡°Is that the first question you¡¯re asking me?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not playing ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Then yes, really.¡±


    Edward sighs. ¡°Okay. But you already know all about my non-existent love life, and I¡¯m not telling you state secrets.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t ask you to,¡± I say, grinning. ¡°I want to just¡­ find out little details I didn¡¯t know about you. And you can do the same for me.¡±


    The embarrassing explanation I¡¯ll have to give now is just the price of getting him to agree to this.


    ¡°¡­fine. You already know my first question, then.¡±


    I sigh and lean back in the armchair, wishing its depths would swallow me. It probably wouldn¡¯t be that difficult to create a cursed armchair that actually did that, would it? ¡°Okay. Fine. I¡¯ve played before. It was in my first week at Genford, back when I still thought I could learn to fit in with those girls who were so different from me.¡± I pause. ¡°It was one of the things that helped to prove I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to keep going,¡± Edward says quickly. ¡°I just wanted you to admit you¡¯d played, not¡­¡±


    I want to listen to him, to forget that day ever happened and banish it from my mind. I should just do that and think of something happy to ask him. But.


    He told me the truth about his Fall, and I never told him about mine until it was too late.


    I regret not telling him myself, even though it seemed impossible at the time. Objectively I know I don¡¯t owe him anything, but it does feel as if things are uneven between us. And I do want him to understand me better.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯ll tell you. Obviously I¡¯d never had a boyfriend at that point, or even a crush. And I¡­ you know how most of the Genford girls grew up. Rich family and all that. I didn¡¯t ever have that sort of opportunity. Knew nothing about the latest fashion trends. You get the idea.¡±


    Edward nods. I¡¯m not entirely sure he does get the idea, since I¡¯ve already discovered that growing up with access to effectively infinite money has given him somewhat warped ideas about it, but it¡¯ll do.


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    ¡°So no-one was really interested in my answers to anything, and I was terrible at thinking of what they called the right sort of questions. That meant they stopped asking me, and suddenly I was one of the last two people left.¡±


    Edward is listening in silence. That helps a lot.


    ¡°The other one¡­ it was this girl called Clarissa. The ringleader type. She¡¯d asked some pretty mean questions to eliminate people, and then she got to me¡­¡±


    If it had been a few years later, I¡¯m not sure I could have avoided an active episode in that moment. ¡°She asked how someone like me got into Genford. I answered, said I was there on a scholarship. And then I fled the room to cry in the nearest bathroom.¡±


    ¡°Who is this Clarissa? Where does she live?¡±


    It takes me a moment to realise the implications. ¡°Edward, you are not unleashing the wrath of the Blackthorns on this girl because she was mean to me once." More than once, really, but never seriously.


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to,¡± he lies.


    It¡¯s obviously a terrible idea, but I¡¯m still touched that he would do that for me.


    ¡°My turn,¡± I say, and then realise that just like that day, I have no good ideas for questions. There¡¯s the boring things like what¡¯s your favourite colour or favourite food, but that doesn¡¯t really tell me much about him. I¡¯m looking for a story from his past, really. But not the kind that involves Malaina or being kidnapped or the end of his parents¡¯ relationship. A happy story.


    And once I realise that it¡¯s obvious. ¡°Tell me about a happy childhood memory,¡± I say.


    Edward hesitates for a long while. ¡°My dad and I used to play a puzzle-game,¡± he says finally. ¡°Not unlike this, at least in principle. We¡¯d take turns to set each other a puzzle or a riddle. Something you had to learn or figure out. In hindsight he was training me to think like a magician should, but when you¡¯re young you don¡¯t realise that sort of thing.¡±


    I try to imagine Lord Blackthorn answering questions and puzzles set by his young son. It¡¯s surprisingly difficult. In my mind he¡¯s the ruthless, efficient politician who doesn¡¯t have time for such trivialities. But a man who¡¯s entirely that couldn¡¯t have a son who loves him as Edward clearly does.


    ¡°There was one time when I was¡­ nine or so, I suppose¡­ and he set me a really hard problem. Well, really hard for a nine-year-old, anyway. A cubic equation, and I only knew the very basics of algebra at the time. One of the rules of the puzzle-game was that I couldn¡¯t ever give up, and I couldn¡¯t ask him for hints.¡±


    That does sound like the sort of game Lord Blackthorn would create. ¡°Then ¨C what happened if you got stuck?¡±


    ¡°I tried a different approach or thought of a new idea. He never gave me anything that I¡¯d be completely unable to do, though. Well, not until this equation. I asked Elspeth and she didn¡¯t know ¨C but then, she¡¯s not a magician and she¡¯s never been a numbers person either. After a day and a half I realised I wasn¡¯t going to be able to solve it on my own.¡±


    ¡°So you asked for a hint?¡±


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°So I went to the library. I¡¯d been told that I couldn¡¯t go in there just to explore, only to research something, and that I had to be careful with the books and not tell anyone else what was in them. But looking up how to solve cubic equations didn¡¯t go against any of those rules.¡±


    I laugh. I would definitely have done the same in his position.


    ¡°Only the family mathematics collection was not organised for the benefit of a nine-year-old who wanted to know about cubic equations, and I didn¡¯t really know what I was doing. So I grabbed the first book I could find with equation in the title. Which turned out to be about differential equations.¡±


    I have only the vaguest idea of what those are, but I¡¯m reasonably sure they¡¯re a lot harder than cubic equations and definitely not something any nine-year-old should be exposed to. Unless, of course, said nine-year-old happens to be Edward Blackthorn.


    ¡°It was surprisingly approachable, actually. Started with an introduction to elementary calculus which was at a level I could understand.¡±


    ¡°Of course you taught yourself calculus aged nine.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s very important in sufficiently advanced magical theory,¡± he says defensively. ¡°But yes, that is what I spent the rest of the afternoon doing. Until my dad found me.¡±


    ¡°Ah.¡±


    ¡°I thought he¡¯d be angry. Even though I wasn¡¯t technically breaking the rules¡­ I was gradually realising this stuff I was learning probably wasn¡¯t directly relevant to the puzzle. He wasn¡¯t angry, though. He was impressed. Asked me a few questions about what I was reading, and I got them right. And then he said that even though that wasn¡¯t the intended solution of the puzzle, he was proud of me. And I could come back to the library whenever I wanted, and read any of the books I wanted.¡±


    I grin. I can understand why that¡¯s his happiest memory. I still want to figure out a way for me to get into the Blackthorn family library, preferably without having to become part of the Blackthorn family. It would probably be one of my happiest memories if I succeeded.


    But¡­ no. Edward isn¡¯t me, though we¡¯re similar in surprisingly many ways. That isn¡¯t his happiest memory because of the library. It¡¯s because he impressed his father. Because his father was proud of him.


    Stars. I hate Lord Blackthorn in that moment. Not because of the many awful things that he¡¯s done, but because, even if he¡¯s trying, he¡¯s not a good enough father to his son. Edward deserves more. He deserves a father who always has time for him and will never hesitate to say how proud he is of his son.


    I don¡¯t say that, of course. I just joke that I¡¯m jealous about the library and ask whether he¡¯s read its entire contents yet (he hasn¡¯t, not even close; staying at the Academy is slowing him down since none of the books can be removed from the library).


    ¡°My turn again?¡±


    ¡°Is that your question?¡± I tease.


    ¡°Same question. Happy childhood memory.¡±


    I feel a faint flicker of relief that he¡¯s not asking about anything related to Elsie, and ignore it to focus on picking a story. I don¡¯t think about my life pre-Genford that much. It¡¯s as if starting there made me a different person, as if it divided my life into two parts.


    Three parts, now, I suppose. I wonder if twelve-year-old me would even recognise the girl sitting here next to her best friend Edward Blackthorn. No ¨C focus ¨C I need to think of a happy memory, not to be dragged into melancholy wonderings.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always had really good history teachers,¡± I say after a few moments. ¡°That¡¯s probably part of why I love it so much. In junior school, there was Mr Alberts. He was my favourite teacher, and I was his favourite student. My classmates called me a teacher¡¯s pet. It was just a joke, though, I did get on well with them. He used to buy all his students little presents when they left his class. Things he knew they¡¯d like.¡±


    Edward once again listens in silence, but it¡¯s much more comfortable this time.


    ¡°Only¡­ what he got me wasn¡¯t anything little.¡±


    ¡°Let me guess,¡± he says. ¡°A book?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°Am I that predictable?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, you are.¡±


    ¡°Not just any book, though. A History of the Kings of Rasin.¡±


    Edward has never read it ¨C heresy ¨C so I sketch out the concept for him, and try to give him a sense of how much it meant to me. He even inscribed its title page: to Tallulah. Never stop being curious.


    I hope I¡¯ve never stopped.

 98. Elsie Leaves

    It¡¯s a good evening, in the end. Just Edward and I, telling each other stories of our pasts. For once we¡¯re relatively good at avoiding the more sensitive parts of that: no state secrets are spilled and no Malaina episodes are had.


    That¡¯s how term ends.


    I get up early the next morning, long before any of my dorm-mates except for Robin stir. We have a whispered conversation: I was lucky, it seems, falling asleep at about eleven after noon and not waking when the others got back. She slept at about the same time but was woken at some unholy hour by their return. Hannah and Lucy were apparently somewhat drunk, and she doesn¡¯t expect to see them awake before lunchtime.


    Robin and I are both sacrificing sleep, though, because it¡¯s the last time we¡¯ll see Elsie this year. She¡¯s catching a coach that leaves from the West Gate at nine after midnight, and the West Gate is quite a walk from the Academy. As such, we¡¯ve arranged to have breakfast together at seven.


    Which means not having breakfast with Edward, breaking the routine we¡¯ve built together. It would be so much easier if he could just join us, but he believes Elsie doesn¡¯t like him and I can¡¯t correct that impression. I force myself not to look at him paging through the morning papers, alone in his usual seat. After today there¡¯ll still be another week of shared breakfasts.


    Elizabeth does join us, though. She slept badly as well, so we spend half our meal complaining about the lack of sleep. Elsie is quiet, focused on eating. I wonder if she¡¯s just distracted by packing and sad to be leaving, or if it¡¯s her powers. That¡¯s not something I can ask in public, though.


    Part of me wishes the others weren¡¯t here so we could have one last conversation about oracular business. But they¡¯re our friends too, even if they don¡¯t know Elsie¡¯s secret. It would be unfair to shut them out.


    Elsie disappears to finish packing after we¡¯ve finished eating. We can¡¯t help her: the Academy has strict rules about not entering dormitories that aren¡¯t your own, and there are rumours that they¡¯re enforced by the ward network. Edward told me the loophole in that rule, though: those students who have their own private rooms may have whatever visitors they like.


    I¡¯ve never been in his room. He doesn¡¯t spend time there, except to sleep. I haven¡¯t spread knowledge of the loophole around, either: I don¡¯t want Elizabeth to be constantly stuck playing hostess to the rest of us, especially since she notably hasn¡¯t volunteered the information.


    So Elizabeth, Robin and I hover awkwardly in the corridor outside. Elizabeth has volunteered to help Elsie carry her trunk to the West Gate. It¡¯s probably unnecessary given that magic makes that task significantly easier, but it makes them both feel better.


    Elizabeth is pacing; she¡¯s worried about being late. It¡¯s a forty-five minute walk, but even with her help the trunk will slow them down somewhat. And Elsie still needs to complete the paperwork confirming that she¡¯s leaving the Academy for the holidays, which will be another few minutes.


    It¡¯s maybe five minutes before Elsie emerges, levitating her trunk by her side. ¡°Right,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m ready.¡±


    I¡¯ve never been the best with goodbyes. ¡°Well, enjoy Holy Days,¡± I say. ¡°And I¡¯ll see you next year, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°See you next year,¡± Robin agrees. ¡°Write to me.¡±


    ¡°And to me,¡± I say, and then realise that I won¡¯t be staying at what was once my home, and that I still don¡¯t even know my new address. My dad just said he¡¯d meet me at the gates of Crelt. ¡°Er. Care of Roberts and Bryant, lawyers. Gold Street, Crelt. After next week when I leave the Academy. I¡¯ll give you a proper address later.¡±


    Once I actually know what it is, I carefully avoid mentioning.


    ¡°Sounds good. Expect my first letter within a few days, then. And hope you both enjoy Holy Days as well!¡±


    Elizabeth grabs the straps of the trunk. Elsie¡¯s levitation means she¡¯s not taking its full weight, but it still makes Elsie¡¯s job a lot easier. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± she says.


    And the two of them leave Robin and I behind.


    I leave Robin for Edward after that. He fills me in on the news: the election is in four days¡¯ time, and the papers are completely taken over by speculation about it and summary of the candidates. Apparently the Academy is going to turn into a polling station for the day, which Edward is not too happy about.


    ¡°The security is going to be a mess,¡± he complains. ¡°The Academy¡¯s ward network is set up to keep out all intruders, which makes it extremely difficult to restrict their movement once we go and let them in. It¡¯ll take half a dozen of the best magicians to keep things under control, and even then¡­¡±


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    I¡¯m only half-listening, though I should probably pay more attention. I need to learn how to keep secrets properly, don¡¯t I?


    ¡°So,¡± I say when he¡¯s finished. ¡°What are we going to do with the next week?¡±


    ¡°You need to rest, to begin with.¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t?¡±


    He shrugs, as if to say that he hasn¡¯t found the tests or anything he¡¯s done this term even remotely tiring. ¡°I do have an idea for what to do next week,¡± he says. ¡°But I need to confirm a few things first. And we¡¯ll have the weekend free, regardless.¡±


    Very mysterious of him. I know better than to waste my time on wondering by now, at least.


    I¡¯m not in the mood for resting, really. I can¡¯t shake the sense that there are things I should be doing, there''s work I need to tackle. I¡¯m sure Edward could give me some exercises in magic that would help me get ahead on next term¡¯s lessons, or another lesson in privacy wards. But he refuses when I ask, much to my surprise. What is he up to?


    I ask a few times, but he¡¯s not giving anything away. If it doesn¡¯t work out, it¡¯s apparently better if I don¡¯t know that it could have. So I check in with Robin again. She¡¯s spending her week studying advanced material ¨C too advanced for me to understand, she says when I offer to join her.


    ¡°What sort of material?¡± I ask anyway.


    ¡°Mostly enchantments, since that¡¯s what I¡¯m planning to specialise in. But I¡¯ve heard the teacher for Further Conditional Enchantments next year is¡­ extremely selective. She only takes students who can impress her in some way ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Robin, you¡¯re ¨C well, you¡¯re first or second in every casting class. And you¡¯d be first without contest if it was a normal class that didn¡¯t have Edward in it.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s the problem, isn¡¯t it?¡± she says. ¡°Edward is better than me. He¡¯d easily beat me if he cared about classes enough. I¡¯m good, but I¡¯m not special in the way he is. What hope do I have to stand out when he does it just by existing?¡±


    I blink a few times. I¡¯ve long since realised that comparing myself to Edward is an exercise in futility, but apparently Robin hasn¡¯t. Then again, she is a lot closer to his level than I am. I¡¯ve heard the two of them debating magical theory, and she didn''t sound out of her depth for a second.


    ¡°Just because you have a Blackthorn in your class doesn¡¯t make you any less talented.¡±


    ¡°I know that. But being talented isn¡¯t good enough. I have to be the best there is if I want ¨C ¡° She stops talking abruptly.


    I wait curiously for her to go on, but after a few seconds it becomes clear that she¡¯s not going to. If it were Edward, or even Elsie, I¡¯d press her. But Robin is different; even though we¡¯ve become friends, I still know surprisingly little about her. She¡¯s cautious, guarded. I can understand that, and I can respect it. ¡°Well,¡± I say instead. ¡°If you ever want to feel good about yourself studying with someone who¡¯s not as smart as you, you know where to find me.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not smarter than you, Tallulah.¡±


    I stare at her blankly.


    ¡°I¡¯m a better magician than you, yes. But you know I¡¯ve grown up with magic, lived and breathed it for years before I had a scrap of my own power. And¡­ it¡¯s all I am, you see? Without magic I¡¯d be a waste of space. You wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not...¡± I begin.


    Robin sighs and throws up her hands. ¡°See you around, Tallulah.¡± She stalks away, but there¡¯s no real animosity there. I almost feel as if we¡¯re closer than we¡¯ve ever been.


    I spend the rest of the morning in the library. I¡¯m still not entirely comfortable with hyperspace, but it¡¯s worth it for the books there. The history section is good, though, but it¡¯s never been the library¡¯s primary purpose. I must have got through a couple of dozen books over the term, and now half the works that seem interesting are ones I¡¯ve already read. By the time we reach final exams I¡¯ll have exhausted the entire collection.


    I gather up four of those I have yet to read and leave hyperspace. Rosie is on duty today, and we talk for a while. I make the mistake of wishing her happy Holy Days, which means the conversation turns into her complaining about having to go to the Feast of Stars.


    I can¡¯t work out what¡¯s more surreal: that I know multiple people going to the grandest party the Kingdom has to offer, or that they don¡¯t want to go.


    Elizabeth gets back from escorting Elsie sometime before lunch, and all four of us eat together. Edward is perfectly happy to join us this time; it¡¯s only Elsie he¡¯s been avoiding, then. I feel another stab of guilt, and then it occurs to me that he might be wondering why Elsie doesn¡¯t want to spend time with him.


    She was growing comfortable with him when we were all studying together, after all. It was only after she developed her powers that she started avoiding him. After the visit to the fortune-teller. After she saw Edward nearly tear apart the tent, saw me fighting to save him from a Malaina episode. After she realised just how dangerous he could be.


    That¡¯s a pretty good cover story, even if I¡¯m worried for the effect it would have on Edward. He might even already assume it¡¯s the case.


    We talk about plans for the next week. Robin is open about her studies, even if she doesn¡¯t go into as much depth on her motivation for it. She does talk more about exactly what she¡¯s working on, though. It takes me a while to realise that she¡¯s directing that specifically at Edward. That she wants him to offer to work with her.


    He makes no such offer, instead just saying he plans to keep himself busy with unspecified training. I¡¯m not sure whether that¡¯s the truth or whether the mysterious thing he mentioned is something altogether different.


    Elizabeth is house-hunting. She doesn¡¯t have family to go back to for Holy Days, so she¡¯s looking for a place of her own, and hasn¡¯t had much time to search during term. Money isn¡¯t a problem, since Edward follows through on his promise to give her a loan (zero interest, as well, despite her half-hearted protests).


    Finding someone willing to rent a room or two for a few weeks is more difficult: most landlords are looking for longer-term tenants or lodgers, and Elizabeth wants somewhere more permanent than a hotel or inn, ideally a place she can guarantee returning to for the spring and summer breaks.


    ¡°What about that place your ¨C ¡° I begin to suggest, and then break off hastily. That place your mother was staying, Edward, I was going to say. But I forgot for a second that the former Lady Blackthorn¡¯s brief visit to the City and meeting with her son is very much a secret.


    ¡°What¡¯s that, Tallulah?¡± Elizabeth asks.


    ¡°Oh, nothing,¡± I say airily. ¡°Nothing that would work, anyway.¡±


    They¡¯re sceptical, but I sit back and let the conversation wash over me. I¡¯m determined to enjoy my last week with my friends rather than having it ruined by the secrets I have to keep.

 99. Interlude: Letters

    From Electra James to Edward Blackthorn (via the Academy¡¯s internal mail)


    Edward,


    Have you heard back from your father about the prospect of private lessons? If you have his permission, I am available to teach for the remainder of your stay at the Academy before the holidays, and I think an intensive week-long program is likely to be of more benefit to you than sporadic lessons throughout a term. We may begin on Monday if it suits you.


    Yours,


    E. James.


    From Elsie Morris to Tallulah Roberts


    Dear Tallulah,


    This is just a brief note to let you know I¡¯ve made it home safely ¨C there was some sort of scuffle happening in a town we passed through on the way, but other than that it was about as smooth a journey as I can hope for. That is, I¡¯m still aching from where I had to squash myself into a corner to make space for everyone and their luggage!


    It¡¯s strange to be back here ¨C everyone and everything is just the same as when I left. It¡¯s me who¡¯s changed, and I don¡¯t quite fit in back here any more. My brothers don¡¯t tease me so much, not now they know I could hex them ¨C I¡¯m not sure I could even if I wanted to (which I don¡¯t, of course!) but I¡¯m not telling them that.


    As for what we were worried about, it hasn¡¯t happened at all so far. I¡¯ve been back less than a day so I can¡¯t be certain of anything, but I almost feel as if it¡¯s gone away altogether. I wish it would, even though I know it doesn¡¯t work like that.


    I¡¯m sorry this letter isn¡¯t longer ¨C there isn¡¯t all that much to tell you yet, and Mum is giving me loads of chores, she says I should be able to do everything so much easier now I have magic. I guess it does make a lot of things quicker.


    Write soon, please!


    Love,


    Elsie.


    From Henry Blackthorn to Benjamin Roberts (via enchanted envelope)


    There are rumours of a case being brought against me for improper filing of taxes ¨C politically motivated, I¡¯ve done nothing illegal. But you should be aware. I¡¯ll keep you updated. If you don¡¯t have books with the relevant sections of the tax code (7.18, 9.3.5, 10.4) let me know and I will have them sent.


    From Edward Blackthorn to Electra James (via the Academy¡¯s internal mail)


    To Electra,


    My father has given me permission to take private lessons from you if I choose to do so. I would like to accept your offer and begin on Monday, though I should make it clear that I will not under any circumstances leave the Academy¡¯s ward network, and that my father and I intend to take appropriate security precautions also.


    I would also like to ask whether it would be possible for Tallulah to join my lessons. I recognise that she is not as talented as I am and that the quality of tuition I receive will be slightly reduced as a result. But I do believe that she has genuine potential, and that given the right opportunities she will be a remarkable magician someday. I would count it as a personal favour should you allow her to join.


    With thanks,


    Edward Blackthorn.


    From Louise Roberts to Benjamin Roberts (extract)


    ¡­I must once again insist that you allow me to see Tallulah during the holidays. She is my daughter, and you have no right to deny me the chance to visit her. You say she won¡¯t want to see me, but the girl doesn¡¯t know her own mind. Which is precisely why I must talk some sense into her¡­


    From Elsie Morris to Robin Wilde


    Dear Robin,


    I guess you¡¯ll have heard from Tallulah that I made it home safely. I meant to write to you at the same time, but Mum kept finding a dozen different things for me to do, I barely got that one letter finished. It all seems so mundane after the Academy. At some point I must have cared about chopping vegetables and washing clothes. I¡¯ve been spoilt by having servants and enchantments to do everything for me, that¡¯s what Dad says. Maybe he¡¯s right.


    I¡¯m lonely, though, Robin. I get on well enough with my family, but I don¡¯t feel like I can talk to any of them properly. Not like I can with you and Tallulah and Elizabeth. There¡¯s so many things that have happened in the last few months that they just don¡¯t understand.


    Like all that stuff with Tallulah and the riot. Don¡¯t tell her about this, but ever since I let slip that she and I were friends they¡¯ve all been asking me about her. What gave her the courage to stand up to Lord Blackthorn? What did he do to her? Is she really friends with his son? What¡¯s Edward like, is he as awful as his father?


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    I don¡¯t know if I can stand another month of that talk. They don¡¯t understand that she¡¯s human, haven¡¯t seen her suffering and hurting and carrying on regardless. If they had they¡¯d stop asking about her.


    But anyway, please write soon ¨C I¡¯m just dying for some juicy gossip to keep me entertained. And the Feast of Stars ¨C you must tell me all about it when you go. Have you decided on the dresses you¡¯ll wear yet? Do you think you¡¯ll meet a handsome prince? Even if Edward won¡¯t be there I¡¯m sure there are so many other people who would adore you! I hope something magical happens for you there!


    Love,


    Elsie.


    From Benjamin Roberts to Tallulah Roberts


    Dear Tallulah,


    Congratulations on making it through the tests! I¡¯m sure you did really well, and you should be proud of everything you¡¯ve learnt and achieved these past few months. It hasn¡¯t been easy for you, I know, so take the time to enjoy your success.


    I¡¯m really looking forward to seeing you in a week¡¯s time. The arrangements are all made, same plan as I said in my last letter. My new place can¡¯t hold a candle to the Academy, but it¡¯s perfectly serviceable and I think ¨C hope ¨C you¡¯ll like it.


    I also just wanted to warn you that I¡¯ve been getting letters from Louise demanding to see you. I¡¯ve told her no ¨C several times ¨C but she won¡¯t listen. I¡¯m worried about what she might do. But I¡¯ll make sure everything works out and you have a lovely Holy Days, I promise.


    Love,


    Dad.


    From Mildred Cavendish to Elsie Morris


    Dear Elsie,


    I know you don¡¯t have much time for me any more ¨C and I completely understand why ¨C but please, at least read the whole of this letter before you throw it into the fireplace.


    As you know, I¡¯m deeply sorry for what I did to Tallulah. It was, I suppose, unforgiveable. I hope for forgiveness nonetheless. At the time, I believed it the right thing. Believed that Tallulah was dangerous, and that what I was doing was for the best. There were so many things I didn¡¯t understand back then.


    You know what I was going through ¨C I was barely thinking straight, even everyday things were a struggle. Somewhere along the line, I made a mistake, and that mistake nearly cost Tallulah everything. I can only thank the stars that I realised what I was doing before it was too late.


    There¡¯s more I can say about it, but not that I can commit to ink, not when I know my mail is being read. I¡¯m being watched, Elsie, for any sign that I might be complicit in my father¡¯s treason. And I¡¯m not, of course, but even so the constant surveillance wears one down. I want, more than anything, an honest and open conversation with a friend.


    That¡¯s why I¡¯m writing to you. I know I can¡¯t call you a friend now, but I did once and some foolish part of me hopes that someday I can again.


    I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯re aware that I have a cousin who lives on an estate maybe ten miles from your home. But I do, and I expect to visit him at some point during this holiday. I would like very much to visit you, also, though of course if you do not want me you need only say so.


    Kind regards,


    Mildred Cavendish.


    From Electra James to Edward Blackthorn (via the Academy''s internal mail)


    Edward,


    Your assessment of the merits and disadvantages of allowing Tallulah to join the lessons is accurate. I am on balance against it, but these lessons are for your benefit and not mine. If you are prepared to accept the consequences of doing so, and if you would consider it a personal favour, I am willing to allow it.


    I expect you, and Tallulah if she intends to join, to be outside my office at seven after midnight on Monday, wearing clothes that allow for flexible movement and not carrying any enchanted items.


    Yours,


    E. James.


    Internal memorandum of the Ministry of Intelligence, for the desk of the Minister (extract, with POI designations replaced by names)


    ¡­the young magician Elsie Morris is deserving of our attention, if the Cavendish girl is determined to rebuild the friendship between them. It is likely that she views Morris as important more for her connections to others than on her own merits ¨C she acted indirectly in an attempt to leverage the Minister before, and may be attempting to do the same again here.


    This is not the only matter of significance. She appears to share a secret with Tallulah Roberts, as the extract from the letter she wrote to Roberts shows. It is deemed unlikely that this is of major importance, but it is brought to the Minister¡¯s attention for thoroughness.


    Please advise on what further action should be taken with regards to this¡­


    From Sylvia Froment to Alistair Montague, senior civil servant in the Sirgalese government¡¯s Magical Affairs Department


    Alistair,


    I¡¯ve contacted everyone I can think of, and they¡¯ve all laughed in my faces and told me to go away. You¡¯re my last hope. That¡¯s maybe not the most promising of starts, but I swear I¡¯ve found something important ¨C something only I can do. The details can¡¯t be committed to paper, but I will gladly meet with you in person to discuss them. Suffice it to say for now that it involves my past ¨C and, if my suspicions are correct, my niece.


    Yours hopefully,


    Sylvia.


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I don¡¯t know if it would be possible for me to forgive


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. I have received an account of events from Tallulah that contradicts


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. Of course I understand how you must feel, but I


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. Unfortunately it will not be possible


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. It is good to hear from you again. I hope that you are well.


    Regrettably


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish (draft, unsent)


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. It is good to hear from you again. I hope that you are well.


    My feelings towards you are complicated


    From Benjamin Roberts to William Smith, lawyer


    Dear Will,


    It has been too long since I last wrote to you, and I regret that I write now on a matter of business rather than to renew our friendship.


    I intend, after Holy Days, to seek a divorce from my wife Louise. I expect that she will fight me on this, which will mean an ugly legal battle. Acquainted as I am with the dangers of self-representation, I wanted to ask whether you would consider representing me in such a case if necessary. Money is a difficulty in the present circumstances, but I am prepared to offer you a percentage of any settlement that is made if that pleases you.


    Many thanks,


    Ben.


    From Elsie Morris to Mildred Cavendish


    Dear Mildred,


    I thank you for your letter. It is good to hear from you again. I hope that you are well.


    I agree with you that the many things we have to say to each other are best said in person. Let me know when you are visiting your cousin, and I will tell you if I am available.


    Best wishes,


    Elsie.

 100. Mistakes?

    ¡°Let me get this straight,¡± I say to Edward at lunch the next day. ¡°You want me to join your lessons with Electra?¡±


    Edward doesn¡¯t bother to confirm it, or even to make a snarky response. He just stares at me. Waiting for me to process it and realise that obviously this is a perfectly sensible idea.


    Yeah, no. That won¡¯t be happening any time soon. ¡°Edward, you know I¡¯m ¨C well. Not as good as you. Not even close. I¡¯d only slow you down.¡±


    ¡°Yes. I still think it¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    He¡¯s impossible to argue with. What are you supposed to do against ¡°yeah, everything you said was valid, but I¡¯m still right¡±? I do still have several blindingly obvious reasons it¡¯s a terrible idea, though. ¡°And Electra agreed?¡± I try, even though he showed me their brief correspondence a couple of minutes ago.


    ¡°Evidently.¡±


    That¡¯s almost the most concerning thing of all. Because she didn¡¯t exactly sound enthusiastic about the prospect of teaching me ¨C not that I can read Electra that well through only a few lines of ink, but she did explicitly say she was against it. She only did it because ¨C ¡°You owe her a favour.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°If you¡¯re one for tallying debts, I already owe her several.¡±


    It¡¯s true: Electra has done far more than was necessary to help Edward and I over the last few months. The way she wrote that, though¡­ maybe it¡¯s just her usual psychological warfare. I hope it is.


    ¡°And besides. I do not intend to let her use me in any way.¡±


    ¡°But you¡¯re sure it¡¯s safe?¡± I ask. I¡¯d been fully expecting Edward to decline for that reason, even with his father¡¯s permission.


    He shrugs. ¡°You can never be certain of those things. But my father says it is, and I trust him. And it¡¯s worth it.¡± Seeing the scepticism in my eyes, he explains. ¡°The singular best way to learn magic,¡± he says, ¡°is to be taught it. By someone who is a capable magician, and a capable teacher, and who knows you.¡±


    I get the sense that Edward¡¯s definition of capable is stricter than mine would be. Strict enough that the number of people who¡¯d fit that category is extremely small ¨C and I imagine that the number of those who have the time to teach and would be willing to teach a Blackthorn is even smaller.


    So what Electra is offering is a rare opportunity even for him. Valuable enough he¡¯s prepared to take the risk of accepting.


    And I have no doubt whatsoever that she knows that as well.


    ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re doing it,¡± I say. ¡°But ¨C ¡° Why me? I don¡¯t say the words, but he must know I¡¯m thinking them.


    ¡°If you don¡¯t want to, you¡¯re welcome to refuse.¡±


    That seems almost like what Electra would say, if she were here trying to persuade me. Except if she said it, she¡¯d know that I wasn¡¯t going to refuse. Edward means it exactly as he says.


    ¡°It¡¯s ¨C I really appreciate your asking for me. I really appreciate the chance. But ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t,¡± Edward says, tension in his voice. ¡°Don¡¯t thank me. It¡¯s a selfish thing, what I¡¯m doing.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to do this alone. I want you with me.¡±


    Simple words, and yet confessing so much. And he¡¯s right: it is selfish of him. Or it would be, if he were trying to force me or pressure me into doing this. But he¡¯s not: he¡¯s just asking.


    Stars help me, that¡¯s why I start to seriously consider it. ¡°What exactly would these lessons involve?¡± I ask.


    If he realises that, and if he¡¯s relieved, he doesn¡¯t show it. ¡°Electra hasn¡¯t exactly given me a specification,¡± he replies. ¡°But I imagine the focus would be mainly on combat magic. It¡¯s something she certainly knows how to teach, and it¡¯s probably what I ¨C and you ¨C most need to be taught. Because you can¡¯t learn it yourself from books. You have to practice.¡±


    I don¡¯t much like the thought of learning combat magic, but I need to. If I¡¯m going to keep being friends with Edward ¨C and that¡¯s beyond question at this point ¨C then there¡¯s a pretty high chance I¡¯ll find myself needing to fight. And better that I know how, if that time comes.


    I still remember the riot. It doesn¡¯t haunt my nightmares any more, but I¡¯ll never forget what happened before Edward¡¯s father saved us. How Edward fought, holding back a mob with magic, planks of wood and sheer force of will.


    How I was completely ineffectual throughout.


    I can¡¯t let that happen again.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I say.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have much time to decide,¡± is all he says in response. ¡°Seven tomorrow morning.¡±


    I nod.


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    If I accept, it will make things more complicated. An entire week of intensive training gives me no time for any of the other things I want to do, except for this afternoon. And it also means I won¡¯t have that time away from Edward. Which is a problem, since the most important thing I have planned is something that Edward can¡¯t know about.


    I spend far too long while we¡¯re reading together in the early afternoon trying to think up a plausible cover story that would let me go into the City this afternoon without him. But the City Library is closed at the weekends, and he¡¯d just invite himself along with me anyway.


    Like many puzzles, it¡¯s easy once you know the solution. And realising it comes with a stab of guilt, because my cover story is also a legitimate reason and one I should have thought of before. I snap my book shut, rousing Edward from his.


    ¡°I just remembered I need to get my dad a gift for Holy Days,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh?¡± He doesn¡¯t seem particularly interested.


    ¡°If I¡¯m going to accept Electra¡¯s offer ¨C ¡° that does arouse his attention a little more ¨C ¡°then I won¡¯t have time for the whole of the week, and I¡¯ll be too busy packing on Saturday.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯ll have to do it today?¡±


    ¡°Now, pretty much,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m going to the Market.¡±


    And now he¡¯s fully engaged with what I¡¯m saying. ¡°On your own? Are you sure that¡¯s a good idea?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I can¡¯t exactly hire a team of bodyguards, can I? And no-one will know I¡¯m there, not unless you plan on setting up an ambush for me.¡±


    He laughs. ¡°I¡¯m not going to have you ambushed, Tallulah. But ¨C no offence, but you do look somewhat distinctive. People could guess who you are even if they hadn¡¯t met you.¡±


    He¡¯s right. ¡°I¡¯m not going to shut myself away behind walls and wards,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t live like that.¡± Actually, I probably could, if there were enough books behind the walls and wards with me. But this isn¡¯t about me, it¡¯s about helping Elsie. Not that he can know that, of course.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Fine. Go. Just be careful.¡± He¡¯s not entirely happy about it, is he? I want to push him to admit that and to talk to me properly. But if I did that, I might not be able to go like I need to. My real reasons might slip out.


    So, hating myself a little, I leave Edward. I focus on the simple mechanics of what I¡¯m doing: return to my dormitory, drop off my book and replace it with my coat and purse. Then back down all those stairs to the entrance hall to sign out with Miss Carr. Then outside the Academy wards and into the Central Ring.


    There¡¯s nothing out of the ordinary happening there today. A few protestors climbing the statue of the Mages, but they haven¡¯t attracted much attention or caused enough disruption to merit that of the authorities. There hasn¡¯t been a major protest since the riot and its aftermath.


    They say it¡¯s because people are too afraid after what happened to the rioters.


    I weave through the crowd, trying not to dwell on that thought. Or any other thoughts. Particularly those about where I¡¯m going, because if I think about it too much, I¡¯ll convince myself it¡¯s a terrible idea.


    I still don¡¯t know my way around the City that well, but I can at least find the Market without a map or a guide. It¡¯s not hard: the cries of traders carry through the streets, and as I get closer they only get louder. The Market is busier than I¡¯ve seen it before. I guess I¡¯m not the only one here to buy gifts for Holy Days, though. Dozens of new stalls selling trinkets and decorations have sprung up to cater to the new crowd.


    I ignore them, and all the other stalls and people soliciting my attention and money. I keep my head down and keep moving forwards.


    Snippets of conversation and traders¡¯ calls stick in my ears: ¡°Apples! Fresh apples! I¡¯m telling you, I could get this for half the price ¨C terrible shame, isn¡¯t it, I told you that man wasn¡¯t good enough ¨C get your ivy here, everything you need to decorate your house for the Day of the Wild ¨C oh, have you seen those fabrics, don¡¯t you think they¡¯re beautiful ¨C the signs are clear, dark days are ahead but they shall be our salvation ¨C ¡°


    That last one makes me glance up: a handsome young man is standing atop a wooden chest, proclaiming to the masses. A knot of people have gathered to listen to him. ¡°It is as the prophets have said,¡± he goes on. ¡°Now approaches the time of our greatest need, and the time when the Mages shall return!¡±


    I roll my eyes and move on. Times are hard for a lot of people, I¡¯m not denying that, but compared to, oh, either of the Civil Wars? The kingdom has needed a miracle far more than it does now. The annoyance at that distracts me enough that I reach my destination without even noticing.


    ¡°Come, I will tell you of your destiny!¡± The fortune-teller isn¡¯t gathering much business. Most people aren¡¯t interested in her form of superstition, and she¡¯s had her stall long enough that the allure of the unknown isn¡¯t so strong. I wonder how she¡¯s making enough money. I wonder if there could be another reason she¡¯s here.


    This is, as I knew it was, a terrible idea. It¡¯s just the only idea I¡¯ve got.


    ¡°Come see what the fates plan ¨C ¡° she stops, and her eyes fix on me. ¡°I remember you, shadow-child. You are come to discover your fate after all?¡±


    Part of me wants to run. I meet her eyes instead. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of a friend.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Why don¡¯t you come in, then?¡±


    I remember Edward telling me not to last time I was here. I remember what he nearly did when Elsie went in. What would he do if he knew what I was doing now?


    It¡¯s irrelevant. He¡¯s not here. And I have to do this for Elsie.


    I follow the fortune-teller into her tent.


    I don¡¯t know what I was expecting. My imagination conjured horrors when I was trying to prevent Edward from destroying this tent, but there are none to be seen. Because I can barely see anything. The darkness is deeper than it should be, even on a dim winter¡¯s day, and after the fortune-teller seals the tent-flap behind us ¨C before I have a chance to see more than a table and chairs hidden in the shadows ¨C I¡¯m completely blind.


    Unsettling. More than that. I do not feel remotely safe. My heart begins to beat a little faster. The unknown may have an allure, but it also has a fear. But I can banish the darkness. ¡°In the ugly ¨C ¡° I begin, and then I realise that she doesn¡¯t know I¡¯m a magician. And it might be useful for me to keep that secret, if this darkness turns out to be ugly.


    I¡¯ve been told it¡¯s risky to stop casting mid-spell, but nothing seems to go wrong. Just the magic that was gathering to my hands, dissipating and returning to my body ¨C and now there¡¯s more magic than there should be, too much. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just.


    ¡°You have come on behalf of a friend,¡± the fortune-teller says. Her voice is louder than I expected; she must be standing right next to me. To the right, though I can¡¯t quite feel her breath on my ear. I didn¡¯t know where she was. ¡°Which one, I wonder?¡±


    No. I can¡¯t do this. Either she¡¯s hostile and what I do right now doesn¡¯t matter, or she isn¡¯t and she¡¯s willing to put me at my ease a little. ¡°Forgive me,¡± I say, ¡°but I am unaccustomed to the darkness. Could you ¨C give me a light?¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you make one yourself?¡± she asks. ¡°Little magician.¡±


    Well, there goes any hope that that was a secret. ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡° I try half-heartedly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take me for a fool, Tallulah. Oh, yes, I know your name ¨C ¡° surely she can¡¯t see the way I flinch at hearing it from her lips ¨C ¡°it¡¯s not often one of us attracts so much attention in such an unusual way. Cast a light, if you will. You are not in danger here.¡±


    Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.


    I believe her. But I also believe that I just made a terrible mistake.

 101. Shadows

    My hands are trembling enough that it takes me three tries to cast a light-spell. The act of it calms me, though. Once the familiar starlight-silver glow has filled my palms, I look around the tent. It¡¯s smaller than I expected: the canvas is high enough for a tall man to stand upright but no higher, and the floor space is completely taken up by a table, a chair either side and a stack of boxes and crates behind it.


    The table is a battered old thing. A single unlit candle and a pile of sticks which must have some deeper significance are the only items on it, other than the cloth they rest on. My light isn¡¯t bright enough to tell the cloth¡¯s colour or the material it¡¯s made of.


    While I was casting, the fortune-teller slipped behind the table and into the chair facing the tent¡¯s entrance. The other seat, then, must be mine. I don¡¯t take it.


    ¡°One of us, you called me,¡± I say. ¡°You mean¡­¡±


    She confirms my suspicions by pressing a finger to the opposite arm, emphasising the darkness of her skin. In a place like this, I can see where the names of shadow-children and People of Shadows came from: she blends into them in a way most people never could.


    ¡°But I¡¯m ¨C ¡° I begin, and stop. I don¡¯t quite know what I want to say, never mind how to explain it.


    ¡°You are one of us,¡± she repeats. ¡°Whether you know it or not. Whether you want it or not.¡±


    I want to protest, but the intensity in her voice tells me that I shouldn¡¯t do that. ¡°What exactly does that mean?¡± I ask instead.


    ¡°That you are an heir to traditions and practices as ancient and important as any this country has ever had. To a history that is not written in books. To a way of life that is dying, and that you have a duty to fight for.¡±


    I instinctively take a step back towards the tent¡¯s entrance. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°No. I¡¯m not ¨C I¡¯m not going to fight for something I know nothing about ¨C I don¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You are a historian, are you not? You believe in the preservation of knowledge?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but ¨C ¡° How do you know? That¡¯s what I want to ask, but there¡¯s no point. I was wrong the first time we met, when I thought she was a fraud. She proved that she had true power to see that which she should not by revealing that Elsie had the same gift.


    ¡°Books are precious, true, but there are secrets that no books hold. Should those not be kept, too?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but ¨C what do I ¨C I can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And you would not have come, if you did not think my knowledge was worth something. If you did not want some part of it.¡±


    I can¡¯t argue with that. She¡¯s right. ¡°I only ¨C I want to help Elsie. That¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°Of course. But I cannot give you that for nothing.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not talking about coin, are you?¡±


    She merely smiles in answer.


    ¡°I won¡¯t do it,¡± I tell her. ¡°I know you think because I¡¯m close to Edward Blackthorn ¨C but he¡¯s my friend, and I can¡¯t use him.¡±


    She makes a strange sound. I start for a moment and my light-spell flickers, startling me even more. But there¡¯s no danger: after a second I realise she¡¯s laughing.


    What¡¯s the joke? This isn¡¯t funny. It takes all my self-restraint to not say that out loud, and to wait until her mirth ceases.


    ¡°You think your friendship with a Blackthorn is what makes you special, Tallulah?¡±


    I freeze.


    ¡°It is remarkable, what the two of you have, and it will serve you well. But if you had never met him¡­ it would not have changed who you are. What you are.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not ¨C ¡° But I am. There¡¯s something strange about me, isn¡¯t there? An anomaly in my magical signature. Doctor Wandsworth¡¯s device detected it, and Electra destroyed it rather than let anyone know. If Edward¡¯s mother noticed anything, she didn¡¯t reveal it to either of us.


    The fortune-teller ¨C if that¡¯s what she is ¨C watches me calmly, waiting.


    ¡°Are you a sensitive?¡± I ask after a few moments.


    She snorts. The sound is a strange contrast with her graceful demeanour up to that point. ¡°You have to label everything, don¡¯t you? I see what cannot be seen; that is all.¡±


    She didn¡¯t like being referred to as an oracle, either. This must be part of what she mentioned, the ways and practices of her people. My people?


    ¡°And you see¡­ what it is. What I am.¡±


    She nods, once, smoothly.


    I feel as if I¡¯m standing on the edge of a precipice. I¡¯ve felt that way before, of course, with Malaina. But it¡¯s different then: I know what happens if I let myself Fall. Peace. Destruction. Now? All that¡¯s waiting at the bottom of this precipice is the unknown and the certainty that there can be no returning to where I was before.


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    Of course I ask, though. I have to know. ¡°What am I?¡±


    She¡¯s not smiling any more. ¡°One of those who came before. Who were monsters before. Perhaps you will be different, though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not an answer! What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°I told you before,¡± she says. ¡°I can¡¯t give you that for nothing.¡±


    My light is flickering again. It took me this long to notice. Where am I with my list of kings? Eleanor the Bold. Timothy the Peacemaker. It brings me less comfort than it normally does. Here in this tent, the history that matters isn¡¯t the one I¡¯ve learnt.


    It¡¯s enough, though. I have to stay calm. Negotiate. ¡°What is your price, then?¡±


    ¡°To know what you are? Or to know how to help your friend?¡±


    ¡°Either. Both.¡±


    ¡°For knowledge about yourself? More, I think, than you are willing to give.¡±


    ¡°Try me.¡±


    ¡°Solemn oaths,¡± she says, ¡°to your people and their cause. To work always for it, for all your life. For that price, though, you purchase all the friendship and aid that we have to offer.¡±


    I close my eyes for a long moment, and wonder who this woman is, and who and what she represents. ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s more than I¡¯m willing to give.¡±


    ¡°That offer will remain open for as long as you live and are not a monster. As for your friend¡­ three promises.¡±


    ¡°What promises?¡±


    ¡°The first is secrecy. You will tell no-one save your friend any of what I reveal to you, and you will tell no-one at all who gave you the knowledge, unless they are of our people.¡±


    More secrets. All I need. But setting that aside, if even half of what I¡¯m beginning to suspect is true then I¡¯m not surprised she insists on secrecy. And it¡¯s a price I¡¯m prepared to pay. I nod once, a silent request for her to go on.


    ¡°The second is to remember all that I tell you, even if it does not relate directly to what you need. To ensure that it will not be lost for as long as you live.¡±


    That¡¯s hardly a price at all. ¡°And the third?¡± I ask, knowing that it may well be the one that ruins everything.


    ¡°Someday, when you know the truth of yourself, your choices will have great meaning. Remember then that our people have helped you, and do not repeat the crimes of those who came before.¡±


    It sounds a simple thing. I¡¯ve read enough history to know that it very much isn¡¯t. One person¡¯s crime is another¡¯s act of cruel necessity, one person¡¯s heroism is another¡¯s evil. And I don¡¯t know who those who came before are or what their crimes were. I could be agreeing to something that I¡¯ll one day find unforgiveable.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d be promising.¡±


    ¡°Does that matter?¡±


    I pause. I could just say no, do what I need to get answers for Elsie. But that would be lying, to myself as much as to her. ¡°Yes,¡± I say. ¡°It does.¡±


    ¡°A pity,¡± she says, and nothing more.


    For a moment I¡¯m scared that I¡¯ve lost my chance and that I won¡¯t be able to help Elsie any more. Then I realise I¡¯m being stupid. ¡°You need me,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t know why, because you won¡¯t tell me, but if I¡¯m as important as you say¡­ then you need me.¡±


    There¡¯s a new wariness in her eyes as she watches me, still silent.


    ¡°So. If you want this agreement, then tell me what I¡¯m agreeing to.¡±


    ¡°Your argument goes two ways,¡± she says. ¡°Unless I have badly misjudged you, you would choose the answers you need over not making that promise.¡±


    She¡¯s right, completely so. But for some strange reason I don¡¯t feel cornered in the slightest. ¡°So what you¡¯re saying is that either we can both win, or we can both lose? I know which option I prefer. How about you?¡±


    I wonder in the heartbeat of silence that follows what possessed me to say that, and whether I¡¯ve gone too far and lost my chance.


    Then she smiles. ¡°Very well. Let us, as you put it, both win. What you would promise, Tallulah, is not to do that which you know to be evil in pursuit of a greater good.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, and then pause in thought. Doing evil in pursuit of a greater good. That puts me in mind of Lord Blackthorn, who I know wouldn¡¯t hesitate to do evil for what he believed the right reasons. These people who came before, were they like him?


    I won¡¯t become like him. If I told him that, he¡¯d claim that avoiding that sort of choice was cowardice. That if I were powerful in the way he was, I¡¯d understand too. I have to believe that he¡¯s wrong, though. ¡°That is¡­ a promise I would make to myself, I think, if I did not make it to you. I will agree to your terms.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Am I imagining the relief in her posture, in her smile? I don¡¯t think so.


    ¡°Do I¡­ would you like me to swear it by starlight?¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°Your word is enough. I will tell you of the gift of prophecy.¡±


    And she does. Within what can only be a few minutes, the knowledge she gives me transforms my understanding of what oracles are and what prophecy is. It is just another form of sight, she says, the art of seeing what cannot be seen. That¡¯s why many of the famous prophets and oracles are blind: those who do not see the world the way the rest of us do often learn other ways to compensate for such failings.


    It functions in much the same way as normal vision. What Elsie has been doing, trying to supress her visions, is akin to forcing your eyes shut constantly. It works, yes, but only for a time, and it will permanently damage her gift.


    But what if she doesn¡¯t want the gift? What if she wants to see with only her normal eyes?


    That can be done, of course. There are ways, but it is painful and unpleasant, and the woman who acts as a fortune-teller would no sooner do that than blind herself with a burning poker.


    But she already knows her power, knows how to control it. Elsie is caught by surprise with visions that take her outside herself unwillingly. Surely there¡¯s a way to stop that?


    Of course. That is one of the first things all of our people with the gift learn, but there is no-one to teach Elsie. So my limited understanding passed on to her will have to be sufficient.


    So it continues. ¡°Can I write this down?¡± I ask eventually, my mind having absorbed enough information that I¡¯m afraid of losing details.


    She shakes her head. ¡°Our people do not keep written records, save in our own language.¡±


    ¡°Own¡­ language?¡± I repeat. ¡°I don¡¯t know anything about ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t,¡± she says. ¡°All those who spread knowledge prefer this not to be well-known. But I will teach you, if you wish, for no price. You will find you have a gift for languages, I suspect.¡±


    I remember my struggles with Sirgalese irregular verbs and doubt her words. That¡¯s not what¡¯s important here, though. ¡°That won¡¯t be easy,¡± I say. ¡°I don¡¯t live in the City, not permanently. I¡¯m leaving in a week, and even when I¡¯m here ¨C Lord Blackthorn ¨C ¡°


    She sighs disdainfully. ¡°That man knows less than he thinks,¡± she says. ¡°We have our ways.¡±


    Oh, stars, I don¡¯t like the sound of that at all. All this will have to be another secret I keep from him and by extension from Edward, won¡¯t it? I¡¯ve already promised complete secrecy. It makes no further difference.


    But if my worst fears about all this are correct, keeping this secret from Lord Blackthorn could be a terrible mistake.

 102. Cold

    I don¡¯t know how long I sit in the darkness of the tent, listening to her. She gives me far more than I could have ever hoped to scrounge from books. Far more than I expected to get from this. Everything Elsie needs to know about her powers. I still feel terribly uneasy about it all.


    Finally, she stops talking and stands.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± I ask, pushing my chair back. ¡°Everything?¡±


    ¡°Everything? No. But it is all that I understand and will tell you.¡±


    ¡°Then thank you,¡± I say, getting to my feet. ¡°Really. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Thank me by keeping your promises.¡±


    Yes. My promises. Secrecy, memory, and to some day not do evil for a greater good. It¡¯s the first of those that I¡¯m concerned about: I have too many secrets that aren¡¯t mine already, and a little part of me is afraid of the consequences of keeping this one. ¡°I will. I ¨C I just realised I don¡¯t know your name.¡±


    It seems silly: that¡¯s supposed to be the first thing you learn about someone, but we¡¯ve been talking for what must be hours and I haven¡¯t thought to ask it.


    ¡°Amara,¡± she says. ¡°It¡¯s been good meeting you, Tallulah. You are¡­ not what I expected.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been good meeting you too, Amara,¡± I reply. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    She walks over to the tent entrance and unlaces the flap so we can leave. My light is hardly enough to see by, so I¡¯m surprised that she does it so easily ¨C no. No, I¡¯m not surprised, because I¡¯ve figured something out.


    ¡°What cannot be seen,¡± I say. ¡°That includes things hidden in the literal darkness, doesn¡¯t it?¡±


    She turns in the act of opening the flap and studies me for a second. ¡°It does.¡±


    So maybe someday Elsie could ¨C there¡¯s so much to process, so much to think about, and I don¡¯t even know where to start ¨C I do know where to start. I have to leave, find a Holy Days gift for my dad, and then go back to the Academy and pretend that none of this happened.


    And I have to learn to create proper privacy wards so that when Elsie returns after the holidays, I can tell her all of this without fear of being overheard.


    The skies are beginning to grow dark. It happens early so close to the solstice, but Edward will still be wondering where I am by now. I feel bad for having to rush finding my dad¡¯s gift, but there isn''t a choice. How can I explain my absence? I got distracted by something I saw here. A musician? Yes, there¡¯s a group of three women singing Holy Days hymns to the passing crowd. I stayed and listened, because their voices were beautiful and I wanted to stay, and then I just lost track of time.


    There we are. At least now my lies will be somewhat plausible.


    I buy my dad an inkwell engraved with constellations around its sides. I don¡¯t know if my dad will like it, but at least it¡¯s practical. Or ¨C no, does he use quills with self-inking enchantments like I do? In that case it¡¯ll be useless. Well, possibly; it¡¯s heavy enough it would serve as a good paperweight regardless.


    It¡¯s growing colder, and despite my coat I¡¯m shivering by the time I make it back to the Academy. I add get Edward to teach me those warming spells so I don¡¯t freeze to death over the holidays to my mental to-do list, and once I track him down I do ask.


    He agrees, and inevitably asks why I¡¯ve been gone so long. My lie about the musicians provokes an unexpected response: ¡°I didn¡¯t realise you were interested in music.¡±


    I laugh awkwardly. ¡°Only in listening to it, when I have the chance. I can¡¯t sing to save my life, and I¡¯ve never got on well with an instrument.¡±


    ¡°Pity,¡± he said. ¡°I thought ¨C never mind.¡±


    Now I¡¯m the curious one, though. ¡°What do you mean? Don¡¯t tell me you¡¯re secretly an opera singer or something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he says. ¡°I probably could be if I wanted, though. I¡¯ve had professional training.¡± He looks confused for a second at my equally confused expression, then adds ¡°Oh, you wouldn¡¯t know, would you? It¡¯s tradition for children of the old families to be trained in music. Singing especially. One of the few traditions that my dad actually supports, so¡­¡±


    I¡¯m still confused. I can¡¯t imagine Lord Blackthorn being in favour of something so impractical, and I don¡¯t know why the tradition would exist in the first place. ¡°Why?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Spellsingers,¡± he says as if that¡¯s an explanation.


    I hadn¡¯t really thought about what spellsingers were beyond powerful magicians who could do seemingly miraculous things, individuals who could turn the tide of a battle single-handed. ¡°You mean they literally sing ¨C sung ¨C spells?¡±


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    He nods. ¡°It¡¯s far more powerful, more fluid and instinctive, than normal casting. But it comes at the price of giving a part of yourself up to the music and magic.¡±


    I¡¯ve learnt enough magic by now to realise that that is a very bad sign.


    ¡°It¡¯s been agreed for a few hundred years that the death toll makes it a bad idea to train more spellsingers. But the musical education stayed.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re not going to get yourself killed trying to become a spellsinger?¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°I do have some sense, Tallulah.¡±


    I¡¯m glad one of us does, at least.


    We work on the warming spells for the rest of the afternoon, and after dinner I don¡¯t need to curl up besides the fire or smother myself in blankets to be comfortable. ¡°Why isn¡¯t this the first spell every magician is taught?¡± I complain, smiling.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s technically difficult and requires precise control,¡± Edward says. ¡°Putting too much power into this spell tends to be¡­ uncomfortable at best.¡±


    I assume that for this spell, power roughly corresponds to increase in temperature. So too much power would imply an unpleasant level of heat, or worse. I grimace. ¡°That was supposed to be a rhetorical question.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± says Edward. ¡°By the way, have you decided?¡±


    ¡°About¡­¡± I ask, knowing the answer.


    ¡°Electra¡¯s lessons,¡± he says impatiently.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°As in, no I haven¡¯t decided, not no I¡¯m not doing it.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to decide before tomorrow morning?¡±


    I shrug. In truth I¡¯ve mostly decided that I¡¯m doing it, I just don¡¯t quite want to admit it. Maybe because I¡¯m scared ¨C not of Electra herself, but of the knowledge of just how hard she¡¯s going to make the next week. Then again, it¡¯s not as if an attacker is going to go easy on me, is it? ¡°I¡¯ll do it,¡± I say before I can talk myself out of it.


    Edward grins. ¡°Breakfast at six and thirty, then?¡±


    It¡¯s not that much earlier than I usually eat breakfast. I can do that.


    I want Edward to keep teaching me privacy wards next, but I definitely wouldn¡¯t if it wasn¡¯t for the whole Elsie thing. Which means that asking him now would look suspicious. If Electra¡¯s lessons are going to take up the whole week, though, I¡¯m running out of time. Why wasn¡¯t I more willing to learn back when he first suggested it, before I knew about Elsie?


    Instead we read for the next couple of hours. I found an intriguing-looking book on the century between the two Civil Wars on my last visit to the library, but I barely take in a word of what it says.


    Amara isn¡¯t alone. She might not have said it explicitly, but reading between the lines, she¡¯s part of some secret organisation. An organisation of the people I still can¡¯t think of as mine, dedicated to preserving their history, their traditions, their understanding of magic and prophecy.


    But is that their only ambition? And, perhaps more importantly: if Lord Blackthorn knew what I knew, would he believe it was their only ambition? No, is the answer to the second question. He¡¯d see their very existence as a threat to the stability of the kingdom.


    And that¡¯s not a judgement I can make, not without more information.


    As if that isn¡¯t enough, there¡¯s everything she said about me. One of those who came before, who were monsters before. I don¡¯t understand what that means; monster could mean mala sia, I suppose, but that¡¯s a kind of monster any Malaina could become. And I¡¯m getting the sense I¡¯m a lot more unique than that.


    Maybe it¡¯s because I wasn¡¯t supposed to Fall. Maybe that makes me a new and different type of Malaina, and the way I could become a monster is different.


    I¡¯m not convinced, though. The crime of those that came before me was to do evil in pursuit of the greater good. Was that what made them monsters? Does she mean more in the sense that Lord Blackthorn can be monstrous?


    I don¡¯t know. And there¡¯s no-one I can trust to give me answers. Amara¡¯s price is too high, there¡¯s no way I¡¯m revealing anything to Lord Blackthorn or any other powerful magician who might be able to find out, Edward¡¯s mother might be a sensitive but she isn¡¯t here¡­


    Which leaves Electra. Who¡¯s already decided to keep whatever it is a secret from everyone, including me. And while I might trust her enough for these lessons, there¡¯s a big difference between that and confronting her over something like this.


    It¡¯s a good thing Edward is absorbed in his own book, then, because otherwise he¡¯d probably notice how long it takes me to turn each page. I must have read the same paragraph on Philippa the Bright¡¯s reforms to the army half a dozen times. I force myself to pay attention to it, even though I already know what it tells me: that Philippa was the first to introduce a separate unit for magicians ¨C what we now call the Twelfth Division ¨C rather than having a group of them attached to each regiment.


    Military history isn¡¯t my favourite area of the subject, so the page or so¡¯s discussion on whether that was a strategically sound decision is hard going and my attention wanders further. I do get the general sense of it, though: the author disagrees with the decision, but can¡¯t bring themselves to criticise the great king and army who defeated the Usurper and brought peace and prosperity to the country.


    It''s one of the more frustrating trends across the history books I¡¯ve read, this tendency to view Philippa as almost a walking star and someone who could do no wrong. Seeing it here doesn¡¯t encourage me to persevere despite my mind being mostly elsewhere.


    I don¡¯t have to for much longer, though: we¡¯ve agreed to go to bed at nine after noon, in preparation for the early start tomorrow and whatever Electra has planned for us. I¡¯m already regretting my agreement; Edward shows no sign of regretting his decision.


    I find my fingers itching for a quill when I reach the dormitory. I want to write down every detail Amara told me about prophecy and about how I can help Elsie. To make sure that I won¡¯t lose crucial information because of my imperfect memory.


    But I can¡¯t. Even if I don¡¯t respect the traditions of the Shadow People (if that¡¯s what they call themselves), I¡¯ve developed a respect for being careful with secrets. And if anyone found something like that in my possession, it would reveal both Elsie¡¯s secret and Amara¡¯s. I can¡¯t let that happen.


    So I¡¯ll have to rely on my memory. Magical solutions to the problem, either to ensure the information is retained in my mind or to allow me to write it down in a way no-one else would understand, are well beyond my current ability. I feel so powerless, so far out of my depth. I¡¯m not prepared to deal with any of these problems ¨C


    I am, at least, prepared to deal with the Malaina episode that those thoughts trigger. My list of kings serves me well, despite my earlier difficulty in Amara¡¯s tent. Perhaps it¡¯s because the Academy is very much a place for the history that they belong to.


    Even after the episode passes, though, sleep does not come easily.

 103. Too Much Magic

    I¡¯m not particularly well-rested, but I still wake at about six after midnight as planned. I just want to bury my head in the pillow and wait for my problems to go away. I¡¯ve learnt the hard way that they¡¯re not going to, though, so I drag myself out from under the tangle of blankets.


    Being able to cast a warming spell as soon as I feel the bite of the winter morning makes it a lot easier, at least. I make it down to breakfast by six and fifteen, which is when I discover that the cafeteria doesn¡¯t open until six and thirty. That isn¡¯t something a normal, sane person would have to worry about.


    But I am far from normal, and far from sane. I return to the dormitory and read a few more pages of my book. It¡¯s frustrating, how many times it comes close to making interesting points and then stops for fear of criticising Philippa. But it fills the time.


    I reach the cafeteria for the second time at precisely six and thirty, which is also precisely the time Edward reaches it. ¡°Morning,¡± he says with a little too much cheer. I¡¯m a morning person, but Edward takes it to another level.


    I do feel reasonably awake by the time I¡¯ve had most of a bowl of porridge and mug of tea. Edward skims the papers at higher speed than normal, but stops when he sees a headline about his father. ¡°Of course the time they decide to accuse him of tax fraud is two days before the election,¡± he mutters. ¡°Huh, isn¡¯t Roberts and Bryant your dad¡¯s firm?¡±


    I choke on a mouthful of porridge and sign for Edward to give me the Herald while frantically swallowing. He waits until I¡¯ve recovered and taken a sip of tea to hand it over. And there it is: a small note that Lord Blackthorn will be represented for the first time by Roberts and Bryant of Crelt. It is as yet undetermined whether there is a connection to Tallulah Roberts, the girl who infamously stopped him from killing a man at the Traitor¡¯s Hill Riot a month ago, but one has to wonder about the Black Raven¡¯s reasons for choosing such a minor firm.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s my dad.¡±


    I¡¯d be a hypocrite to be angry with him for working with Lord Blackthorn. I¡¯d be a hypocrite to be angry with him for not telling me. I guess that¡¯s what I am, then.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t know?¡± Edward asks.


    I shake my head. I didn¡¯t know. And why ¨C the Herald might well have a point. It might well be because of me. Somehow the thought of my dad being mixed up in Blackthorn affairs is horrifying, even though I¡¯ve made the choice to mix myself up in Blackthorn affairs. Stars.


    Edward tugs at the paper, and I let him pull it from my numb hands. ¡°You need to forget about it for now,¡± he says. ¡°Electra will not take kindly to your mind being elsewhere.¡±


    Well, I have more problems than he knows to forget about. And I doubt I¡¯ll have much luck. He¡¯s right, though: Electra will not accept anything less than my full attention, having so reluctantly agreed to teach me. I wonder if she¡¯d be disappointed that I found out how and why she agreed. She probably wouldn¡¯t even care.


    That¡¯s the only point of interest in the morning¡¯s papers, which have been thoroughly taken over by election news. I listen half-heartedly to Edward¡¯s snarky comments on them as I finish my porridge and tea, and then it¡¯s time to go.


    We arrive outside Electra¡¯s office at three minutes before seven. I¡¯m reminded suddenly of the first time we waited outside this office together, the first time we met. I instinctively disliked him just for how comfortable he seemed with magic compared to me. And now¡­ ¡°Do you have marbles to throw at the door?¡± I ask teasingly.


    ¡°I never did finish analysing that enchantment, did I?¡± Edward muses, smiling. ¡°I do actually care what Electra thinks about me now, though, so probably best not to.¡±


    This is one of the many times when it¡¯s hard to tell quite how serious Edward is being. ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t think annoying her right now is a good idea.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± says Electra, appearing in the suddenly empty doorway of her office. ¡°It isn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Did you just cast an illusion of a closed door purely so you could scare us like that?¡± Edward asks.


    Electra just smiles. ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you¡¯re early. Do come in.¡±


    We obey. I¡¯ve been in Electra¡¯s office enough times that I should be used to her d¨¦cor, but the utter blackness of it is still oppressive. I sit down in the same armchair that I sat in the first time I was here. Hopefully there will be no knives this time, but it wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she decided to use them as a way of testing our combat reflexes or something of that nature.


    ¡°Our lessons won¡¯t be held here,¡± she says. ¡°There isn¡¯t sufficient space for many of the exercises I have in mind, and there are fragile objects. But this is a suitable place for the theoretical discussion we will be having first. Safety requirements, mostly.¡±


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    It does make sense that learning combat magic would require safety precautions, but Electra doesn¡¯t mention the sort of safety precaution I¡¯m expecting. ¡°Your classes thus far have been specifically designed not to stretch the power limits of any magician, however new and weak. Even if you have been practicing out of class, or teaching yourselves more advanced spells ¨C ¡° she pauses to give us a look that says that she knows very much that we have ¨C ¡°you will not have come close to your limits. Many magicians will go through their entire lives without reaching that point.¡±


    ¡°But your lessons aren¡¯t going to be like that,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°I suppose that was rather predictable,¡± Electra admits. ¡°I¡¯m losing my touch. But, yes. Magical combat, at a sufficiently high level, will push you to your limits, so that is what I intend to do over the next week. To your limits, and not beyond. So you need to know how to tell when you have used too much magic, and what to do about it.¡±


    Edward, unsurprisingly, knows much of the theory that follows ¨C though not quite all. The problem is that the human body is only capable of storing and channelling a finite amount of magic at one time; this can be increased somewhat by drawing from the ambience, but doing that is extremely dangerous at best. A lot of magicians have died that way.


    What that means is that while a simple spell like the light-spell I use can be maintained more or less indefinitely, casting and maintaining many powerful spells in a short period becomes risky. And guess what you find yourself doing a lot of in magical combat?


    ¡°What about rituals?¡± Edward asks.


    Electra sighs. ¡°Combat ritual work is mostly seen in larger-scale battles, where the magician can rely on being protected by allies while they draw and cast. Stars willing, you won¡¯t ever fight in one of those.¡±


    I wonder briefly whether Electra has been in such a battle, but the Kingdom has been largely at peace for a century. There¡¯s been war elsewhere on the continent within the last couple of decades, though, so if she¡¯s foreign or a mercenary it¡¯s not impossible.


    ¡°And it would effectively be suicide to attempt a combat ritual in the sort of fight you¡¯re training us to handle,¡± Edward concludes.


    ¡°Not in all circumstances. If you were laying an ambush, it could be a very strong opening move. But I presume you don¡¯t plan to ambush anyone?¡±


    ¡°Self-defence is the priority,¡± he agrees.


    That explanation done, Electra moves onto the business of the symptoms of using too much magic. Sudden physical and mental exhaustion is the main tell, though it manifests differently for everyone. Electra, for instance, experiences extreme nausea, sometimes leading to vomiting. She grimaces as she says that, as if reminded of unpleasant memories. Not a surprise given what she¡¯s talking about.


    Then she moves onto what to do if we experience those symptoms. It is the obvious and simple answer of ¡°stop casting spells¡±, but Edward points out that it¡¯s not quite that obvious or simple. What happens if the symptoms hit when you¡¯re in the middle of casting a complex spell?


    ¡°Ideally you are aware enough of your limits that you don¡¯t start casting that spell in the first place. Supposing that isn¡¯t the case¡­ on balance I would say it¡¯s best to complete the spell and then cease casting.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re in a combat situation, though,¡± I suggest, ¡°then you probably die if you stop casting.¡±


    ¡°My original advice stands, for the two of you in particular.¡±


    ¡°Malaina,¡± I realise.


    Electra nods. ¡°If Malaina draw on too much magic, it is extremely common for that to lead directly to an active episode. No-one knows why, but during active episodes Malaina can channel far more magic at once than would normally be possible.¡±


    ¡°Does that apply to mala sia?¡± Edward asks.


    Electra nods.


    ¡°Stars. That explains a lot.¡±


    I guess it does. It means that mala sia have access to powerful spells that ordinary magicians simply can¡¯t cast without killing themselves. And if I assume that even a few of those powerful spells have obvious combat applications¡­ yeah. Stars.


    ¡°So it¡¯s another choose death scenario,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°It is.¡±


    He nods grimly. ¡°Out of curiosity,¡± he adds, ¡°and not because I have the remotest intention of experimenting with this¡­ if I were to draw on too much magic while casting a spell with Siaril, would that trigger a Malaina episode?¡±


    Electra pauses. ¡°Actually, I don¡¯t know. I don¡¯t know if it is known. Malaina is the least common of the Schools to be paired with another, and multi-School magicians are rare enough to begin with. I have known¡­¡± she pauses for a second, ¡°three of them, and you are the first I have seriously tutored in combat.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised to hear Electra admit she doesn¡¯t know something, but Edward doesn¡¯t seem to respect her any less for it; he just nods thoughtfully.


    ¡°The other point we should mention,¡± Electra continues, ¡°is the flow state. I hardly expect it to become relevant within a week, but you may surprise me.¡±


    The flow state is what Electra referred to way back in my first ever magic lesson: dispensing with incantations and gestures and casting from pure intent. Losing yourself in the flow of magic. True mastery of combat magic requires it: when the difference between life and death can be measured in fractions of a second, not having to mutter an incantation to summon a shield or a barrier and being able to react instinctively without pause for conscious thought can make all the difference.


    The problem being that when in such a state, the mind filters out any information not relevant to the immediate goal of surviving or winning the fight. Extraneous information such as, for instance, a sudden sense of mental and physical exhaustion.


    ¡°Neither of you are planning to pursue a career that will require more than advanced self-defence, though, so it is not essential for you to reach true mastery. If you wish to avoid entering a flow state¡­ I will accept that decision.¡±


    ¡°Not getting myself killed or worse because I couldn¡¯t notice the symptoms sounds pretty good, thanks,¡± I say, and glance at Edward.


    He says nothing. He can¡¯t be seriously considering ¨C why ¨C that isn¡¯t a conversation we should have in front of Electra, but I resolve to interrogate him about it when we¡¯re alone.


    ¡°You both understand everything I have told you today?¡±


    We nod.


    ¡°And you won¡¯t do anything stupid?¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± Electra smiles. ¡°Having talked about the fact that powerful spells are frequently used in combat¡­ there are four basic spells that every magical fighter should know. Two you will have been taught already, and unless I am very much mistaken, Edward at least knows all four. So, can you name them?¡±

 104. Failure

    Electra is right: Edward does in fact know how to cast all four of the spells she¡¯s thinking of. The two we¡¯ve been taught are the General Counterspell and General Animation Spell, and the others are the magical-force spell Edward used during the riot and the simple shield spell he taught me afterwards.


    It¡¯s obvious why three of those spells have their places on that list, and I only need to remember Electra¡¯s knives to realise why the Animation Spell is the fourth. That¡¯s the end of the first theoretical segment of our lessons, and Electra takes us to a large room in the Academy¡¯s basement, bare and empty except for a set of large cupboards against one wall. She opens the nearest with a wave of her hand to reveal it contains a group of wooden dummies.


    I¡¯m set to learning the magical-force spell and practicing it until I can knock one of the dummies over from the other side of the room, while Edward is challenged to do the same while simultaneously maintaining the shield spell. It¡¯s not hard to see that simultaneous casting is an immense advantage in combat, though it does come at the cost of normally reaching burnout faster.


    Despite the earlier safety lecture, though, there isn¡¯t the remotest risk of burnout with these four spells. Electra claims she once reached it with the Animation Spell alone, but that was controlling considerably more objects simultaneously than she expects from us. She warns us against putting too much power into the magical-force spell and deflects Edward¡¯s queries about the levels of warding on the room we¡¯re in, and then we get to work.


    I pick up the spell quickly, helped by Electra giving me words of advice in between levitating various projectiles in Edward¡¯s direction to test his shield. He doesn¡¯t pass all of those tests, and more than once he¡¯s hit in the face by a marble moving fast enough to cause quite a bit of pain.


    Over the next while I gradually move backwards, casting the spell and watching the dummy topple over again and again. Electra gives me tape to mark the position I stand in on the ground, since I have to go back and forth to set the dummy upright each time I succeed.


    The gestures and incantation become familiar, almost routine, as I keep working at it. Is this the amount of practice you need to properly master a spell? It¡¯s certainly more time than I¡¯d normally spend on it outside of classes.


    But I reach the limit of my range still a good yard from the wall opposite the dummy. I¡¯ll have to channel more power into the spell. I¡¯ve been cautious with it up to now, possibly too cautious. There¡¯s a difference between making sure I can control the power and using so little of it that my spells aren¡¯t effective enough.


    I take a moment to close my eyes and breathe after two failures. Calming exercises like that also make it much easier to cast effectively, and so when I try again my spell topples the dummy easily.


    Electra nods to me, absent-mindedly twitching a finger to send another flurry of marbles at Edward¡¯s shield. It withstands the assault this time. I jog across the room to set the dummy upright once more for another attempt.


    After maybe fifteen minutes more, Electra calls a halt. ¡°Now we can start properly,¡± she says. ¡°You can both cast the four spells, but that is very much not the same thing as being able to use them in combat. In general that requires casting a spell in less than a second at the bare minimum. And the only way to do that is to practice extensively.¡±


    What follows is¡­ well, about what I expected from private lessons with Electra. She calls out one of the four spells, and Edward and I have to cast it immediately. If we mess up a counterspell or shield, the results are inevitably mildly painful or humiliating; Electra rights the dummies with a lazy wave of her hand when we knock them over with the force spell, and makes us trace patterns in the air with the marbles we levitate. And no more than a second later, before I have time to breathe, she calls out the next spell.


    It''s less than two minutes before my control is slipping enough that I can no longer trace the patterns correctly and I realise a flaw in all of my usual coping mechanisms: they rely on having the time to breathe or close my eyes or recite a list to myself, which I very much do not have when I already have another spell to cast.


    ¡°Stop,¡± Electra says, and I stop, realising as I do so that my body is shaking and my heart is pounding far faster than it should be.


    I force myself to breathe slowly and calm down. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. ¡°I can¡¯t do this,¡± I say when I trust myself to speak.


    ¡°That was the intention,¡± she replies. ¡°If you could do an exercise such as this perfectly, there would be no point to my setting it.¡±


    ¡°Edward ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t even close to perfect, Tallulah. I messed up eight spells there.¡±


    The fact he had enough mental space left to count that proves my point.


    ¡°Besides, he¡¯s practiced similar exercises before. Haven¡¯t you?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Not anything quite like this, but I have worked on my casting time for all four of those spells before.¡± When he taught me the shield-spell, he tried to work on mine as well. My failure with that exercise meant that until now I haven¡¯t practiced combat magic at all.


    ¡°Perhaps it would be easier to work with each of you individually,¡± Electra muses. ¡°Tallulah, rest for a while. Edward, let¡¯s try something a little harder.¡±


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    Edward and I share grim smiles. ¡°Tell my dad I love him,¡± he says.


    ¡°If I intended to kill you, do you really think I would leave Tallulah alive to serve as a witness?¡±


    I flinch. Edward laughs. ¡°Fair point,¡± he says.


    I feel a lot less bad about not keeping up with Edward when Electra explains the new and harder exercise: it uses simultaneous casting extensively, so it would be impossible for me to do the same thing. Effectively, what he¡¯s doing is the same as before, except twice at once.


    Even he finds that more than merely difficult. After a few minutes of that he¡¯s in the same state that I was after the first exercise, gasping for breath and staring around wildly.


    ¡°Stars,¡± he chokes out.


    ¡°You¡¯re not accustomed to failure, are you?¡±


    ¡°I know what I¡¯m ¨C ¡° he pauses to take another gulp of air ¨C ¡°capable of. And not capable of.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not the same thing. How frequently have you been set exercises that you could not complete?¡±


    Edward narrows his eyes. ¡°My father did that, a couple of times.¡±


    I assume he¡¯s thinking of the cubic equation incident he told me about a couple of nights ago.


    ¡°A couple of times. And since you came to the Academy?¡±


    He is silent.


    ¡°At all, by any teacher other than me?¡±


    ¡°Felicity once asked me to demonstrate specific animation to the class, before I had learnt specific animation.¡±


    Electra laughs a little. ¡°I suppose you have now learnt specific animation?¡±


    Edward nods.


    ¡°Because of that incident?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then that proves my point.¡±


    I¡¯m not entirely sure what Electra¡¯s point is. Nor is Edward, and he says as much.


    ¡°How a person reacts to failure,¡± she says, ¡°tells you a great deal about them. Many people are discouraged, and believe that they are incapable and shouldn¡¯t even try. It is a waste of time to teach them anything beyond the essentials.¡±


    I wince. Electra¡¯s words feel far too harsh, but I don¡¯t think she¡¯s wrong. I remember the day I Fell and the incident that triggered it. Ruby didn¡¯t make any real attempt to understand what she was working on before bringing it to me. There were a lot of people like her at Genford.


    ¡°Some people, though, respond quite differently: they resolve that if they are currently incapable, they should simply become someone who is better.¡±


    Yes. That¡¯s what I want to do. Except there¡¯s nothing simple about it.


    ¡°Failure is what drives these people. And if they do not experience it, they will never reach their full potential.¡±


    ¡°So you want to make us fail¡­ so we become better?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Precisely.¡±


    That is just such an Electra way of doing things. Strange and twisted ¨C but quite possibly effective.


    ¡°On which note: are you ready to continue?¡±


    No. ¡°Yes.¡±


    I¡¯m alone this time, which doesn¡¯t make much of a difference. Electra does not make the exercise even the tiniest bit easier. The knowledge that it¡¯s designed to be near-impossible helps a lot, though it doesn¡¯t make it any less impossible.


    I miss a spell, then another, and get hit in the face with a marble before I have a chance to get a shield up. Naturally, there isn¡¯t so much as a second¡¯s pause to check I¡¯m okay before I¡¯m having to levitate the very same marble and move it in a helix pattern. Well, it would be charitable to describe its movement as helical.


    ¡°Counterspell,¡± says Electra, smiling. I dismiss the Animation Spell and let the marble clatter to the ground, then frantically begin casting. Not quickly enough: the floor beneath my feet suddenly becomes slippery enough that I lose my balance.


    ¡°Animation. A regular pentagon in a vertical plane, please.¡± She¡¯s still smiling.


    I cast before even trying to get to my feet, and push myself upright while trying to remember the approximate internal angles of a regular pentagon and most likely failing. Stars, I want nothing more than to wipe that smile off her face. Maybe this is for my own good, but ¨C


    ¡°Shield.¡±


    I¡¯m too slow again, and I take another marble to the face. She¡¯s enjoying my suffering. I hate her. I¡¯m not some toy to be played with for her amusement.


    ¡°Force.¡±


    I manage a force-spell, but too slowly: she asks for another shield spell before I¡¯ve finished casting, and I¡¯m hit by a marble for the third time in less than a minute. I barely feel the pain this time. She thinks this is all I¡¯m capable of? She thinks this is supposed to be impossible?


    ¡°No,¡± I whisper. ¡°She¡¯s wrong.¡±


    ¡°Counterspell.¡±


    My hands are moving almost before she finishes the word, and I complete the incantation within half a second. Nothing happens: I¡¯ve succeeded.


    ¡°Force.¡±


    Again, the movements and incantation come without the need for conscious thought. The dummy tumbles easily, and I ¨C


    ¡°Shield.¡±


    The feeling when the marble bounces off my perfectly formed shield is immensely satisfying.


    ¡°Animation. A six-pointed star in a horizontal plane.¡±


    That¡¯s a more complicated shape to make from a single continuous line, but I still barely have to think about it.


    The pause that follows that spell is a fraction longer than before, but then the calls keep coming. Shield. Counterspell. Force. Counterspell again. Animation, a pair of interlocking circles. Shield. Force. Counterspell. Am I imagining it, or is Electra getting even faster? It doesn¡¯t matter; I¡¯m casting faster than thought, as fast as is humanly possible. If this isn¡¯t perfection, it must be pretty close. I don¡¯t falter for a moment.


    ¡°Stop.¡±


    Why would I stop? I could keep going forever. I could do more, harder ¨C I stop moving, stop casting, and reality rushes back to me. I¡¯m standing in a room in the Academy¡¯s basement, a little out of breath, my entire body suddenly shaking. Electra is staring at me with mild curiosity, and Edward with undisguised awe.


    ¡°That was a most interesting performance,¡± Electra says. ¡°Edward, are you ready to continue?¡±


    ¡°Most interesting,¡± Edward repeats. ¡°No. No ¨C not ¨C ¡° He pauses for a second. ¡°Unless I¡¯m very much mistaken, that was a flow state or something similar. And you know that, Electra. You can¡¯t just brush that off as nothing. It wasn¡¯t nothing.¡±


    I blink a few times. Yes: now that I think about it, the way I felt in those minutes matches how Electra described the flow state near-exactly. I understand now why it¡¯s so dangerous ¨C and why Edward wants to reach it so much.


    Stars. This is a major feat of magic, something I shouldn¡¯t be capable of. Something Edward isn¡¯t capable of, and yet I did it. Just like that, without even trying to. I don¡¯t understand.


    ¡°Such a thing is unusual, but not entirely unheard of,¡± Electra says. ¡°It will require further analysis, certainly, but I would rather Tallulah rested first so I can be certain that there are no ill effects. So in the meantime: are you ready to continue?¡±


    Rest. That¡¯s not what I need, or what I want. There¡¯s still a lingering feeling of power, unfamiliar and addictive. I think if I tried to teach myself new spells right now, the power of that feeling would let me get every one first time. I¡¯m longing to try.


    Edward, though, gets to his feet without another word. ¡°I¡¯m ready,¡± he says.

 105. Flow

    Edward does seem ready, to judge by the intensity with which he approaches the exercise. I¡¯ve seen it in him before, but never in this context. He moves and casts quickly, purposefully, efficiently, to the extent that he¡¯s able to keep up with the crazy pace Electra demands of him.


    But keeping up is all it is. A few minutes ago, I might have thought he was in a flow state. But now having experienced it myself, I know that he¡¯s not without being able to explain how I know. It¡¯s the focus, I think: he¡¯s concentrating so hard, trying to force something that should come naturally.


    And then he slips up. Quite literally: he misses a counterspell and Electra uses the same slippery-floor spell that got me earlier, sending him tumbling to the floor and sliding across it. He gets up and keeps casting, but he¡¯s lost his rhythm and now he¡¯s missing or messing up spell after spell. If anything, he¡¯s doing worse than his first attempt.


    ¡°Stop,¡± says Electra.


    Edward is dishevelled, breathing heavily, but he shakes his head. ¡°No. Keep going.¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re trying to find a flow state ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Keep going,¡± he insists, and the intensity is in his voice now: the tone of someone who gives orders without the faintest notion that they could be disobeyed.


    Electra is right, though: if he¡¯s trying to find a flow state, this isn¡¯t the way to go about it. It¡¯s not something that can be reached by sheer force of will. Edward knows that approach generally doesn¡¯t help when it comes to magic, so why ¨C


    He¡¯s jealous of me. It should have been obvious, but it¡¯s such a surreal thought that it took me this long to realise it. But he¡¯s the best at magic of anyone his age. That¡¯s how he¡¯s always defined himself. Without that, I think he¡¯d be lost. So I¡¯ve unintentionally challenged the foundation of his identity by reaching a flow state before he can.


    And he can¡¯t stand that possibility, so he¡¯s going to do it himself here and now.


    Or he wants to, anyway, but it¡¯s not working.


    Electra does oblige him by continuing the exercise, but he can¡¯t even reach the intense focus that let him manage the first minute or so. I can see him making more and more mistakes, getting more and more frustrated. I want to scream at him to stop, to not do this to himself. I want to scream at Electra to ignore him and stop, because the only way I expect this to end is a Malaina episode.


    Electra doesn¡¯t stop. If anything, she makes it harder. There¡¯s an almost vicious look in her eye as she sends three marbles hurtling towards his face. He stumbles as they hit him, hard enough to leave bruises, but gets up and begins animating two of them to trace a complex pattern. He¡¯s shaking, though, and I can tell he¡¯s not far from a complete breakdown.


    I can¡¯t let this go on. ¡°Stop!¡± I call. ¡°Edward, stop, don¡¯t do this to yourself!¡±


    Edward snarls: an instinctive, feral sound that I never expected to hear from him. Then he says, his voice pure ice, ¡°Don''t tell me what I can and can¡¯t do.¡±


    The words, I realise a second later, are an incantation. Not the one he typically uses for the force-spell, but they work for that purpose: the dummy topples without his even looking at it.


    Electra stops, though. ¡°Edward ¨C ¡° she says.


    ¡°Keep. Going.¡±


    And she does. No, she doesn¡¯t keep going. She turns the difficulty up from crazy to impossible. She barely pauses for breath between calling spells, and her offensive spells become faster and more aggressive: she¡¯s slipping into some sort of combat mindset herself.


    It¡¯s impossible to block all her spells and keep up the animation and force-spells at the same time. Impossible ¨C and yet Edward does it. Somehow, he¡¯s found a flow state as well. And he seems completely relaxed, almost effortless, as he does the impossible.


    I watch in horrified fascination as Electra increases the intensity of the exercise yet again. It¡¯s as if the two of them are a pair of whirlwinds, moving and casting so quickly I can barely tell what¡¯s going on. Edward doesn¡¯t hesitate for a second. I¡¯m not sure he¡¯s the one making the questionable decisions any more.


    Then the knives come out. Literally. The same blades Electra magically flung at us on that first day fly out of her robes¡¯ sleeves and soar towards Edward at terrifying speed.


    My body springs into motion before I have time to think, and I charge across the room towards them, but I already know I¡¯m going to be far too late.


    The knives clatter off a perfectly-formed, impossibly fast shield and fall to the floor.


    Electra falls still and silent.


    I reach Edward and crash into him, sending both of us tumbling onto the floor, our limbs tangled, the two blades lying just in front of us.


    The world seems to pause for a moment.


    I¡¯m the first to react: I cast a shield, pouring as much power into it as I dare, and then snatch up the nearest knife from the ground. It won¡¯t help much in a fight ¨C we don¡¯t stand a chance against Electra unless Edward can find that flow state again ¨C but its weight makes me feel a little safer.


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    Electra takes several steps backwards and raises her hands, palms spread wide and empty. ¡°I don¡¯t intend to hurt you.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a funny way of showing it,¡± I snarl. ¡°You could have killed him!¡±


    ¡°That was also not my intention.¡±


    ¡°What? You just ¨C accidentally decided to hurl knives at him faster than it should have been possible to block them?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah.¡± That¡¯s Edward¡¯s voice; it¡¯s awkward in our tangled position for him to wrap his arm around me, but he does it nonetheless. ¡°She wasn¡¯t trying to kill me.¡±


    He sounds completely certain of it. Stars, he must be mad. My best friend is a madman and my teacher just tried to kill him. Someone send help. ¡°How do you know?¡±


    ¡°I just do. It¡¯s a flow state thing, I think.¡±


    I take a moment to breathe and let my brain catch up with everything. Electra, I realise, has seen combat before. Quite possibly with her life on the line. I¡¯ve heard stories that veterans like that sometimes forget that they¡¯re not in danger any more, that they can think they¡¯re in a life-threatening situation and act accordingly when the reality of the situation is very different.


    Is that what Electra did there? Did she mistake Edward for an enemy trying to kill her and act in what she believed was self-defence?


    The alternative is that it was a deliberate murder attempt. But if she was trying to kill Edward, she wouldn¡¯t have just stopped afterwards. And that would contradict whatever flow state thing Edward is talking about ¨C I don¡¯t know if I trust that, but it counts for something at least.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say. I dismiss the shield, release the knife.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Electra replies. ¡°And I apologise for my actions. I¡­ forgot myself. Neither of you experienced Malaina episodes during that incident?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, surprising myself. It all happened so quickly there wasn¡¯t time for one.


    ¡°No,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°Unless the flow state blurred into one. I can¡¯t be certain.¡±


    ¡°I believe the fact that you took no aggressive action against either me or Tallulah implies that it did not,¡± Electra says. ¡°Though I suggest you are very careful about entering that sort of a flow state in the presence of someone less informed about Malaina than I am.¡±


    Yes: it wouldn¡¯t surprise me for a second if someone believed Edward could only do those impossible things because he was deep in the grip of an active episode.


    ¡°Noted,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°And perhaps I should add that an incident like that dramatically increases how dangerous you could be if you did lose control. If I see sufficient evidence that that is likely, I will kill you.¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°She can. And she¡¯d be right to do it,¡± Edward says grimly. ¡°I might well be unstoppable as mala sia.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to happen, Edward.¡±


    ¡°I hope for both your sakes it does not,¡± Electra says. ¡°That dealt with¡­ I understand if you do not want to continue lessons today, or indeed at all.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ think that might be best,¡± I say. ¡°At least until I¡¯ve had time to talk to Edward alone.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Electra says. ¡°When you have come to a decision, you know where to find me.¡±


    We don¡¯t flee the room; we walk out at a sensible pace, as if we¡¯re not at all afraid.


    ¡°Meeting room?¡± is all Edward says.


    ¡°Meeting room,¡± I agree.


    We climb the stairs in silence, and don¡¯t speak even when Edward unlocks the meeting room.


    ¡°Are you ¨C ¡° I begin once we¡¯re safely inside, but he shakes his head and pulls a piece of chalk from his pocket. I let him chalk and activate all the privacy wards he needs to, waiting until he finally turns to face me.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask again.


    ¡°I¡­ think so,¡± Edward says. ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°I think so,¡± I agree. There¡¯s a moment of silence, and then I ask it: ¡°What happened?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°I don¡¯t know. But I know enough about flow states to know how you reach one ¨C and how you don¡¯t. It comes from grace, from hard-earned talent. From having practiced so much magic becomes instinctive. Not from failure and frustration.¡±


    ¡°And yet,¡± I say.


    ¡°And yet,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°Yours was the same, wasn¡¯t it? I was watching, and I could almost see the moment where it happened.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I agree. ¡°Failure and frustration. I was thinking I wanted to wipe that infuriating smile off Electra¡¯s face.¡±


    Edward grimaces. ¡°I¡¯m not sure you want to know what I was thinking.¡±


    ¡°I could make a pretty good guess.¡±


    ¡°Stars, Tallulah, I¡¯m sorry. What you did was extraordinary. I should have been focused on that, instead of, well¡­¡±


    Why can¡¯t I do that? Why is she suddenly better than me? ¡°I understand,¡± I say. ¡°And I forgive you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°So we¡¯ve established that neither of us should have been able to reach a flow state then,¡± I continue. ¡°That leaves Electra.¡±


    ¡°She reacted very differently with you and with me.¡±


    ¡°She was trying to teach you a lesson, before you reached the flow state,¡± I decide. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t explain¡­ was she as, well, intense with me as she was with you? It was hard for me to tell while I was in that state.¡±


    ¡°Same for me. We can¡¯t really properly compare. But I think it¡¯s likely she was harder on me, even before the knives.¡±


    ¡°You think that was some sort of¡­ flashback?¡± It¡¯s the only possibility that seems remotely likely.


    Edward nods. ¡°I¡¯ve read about that sort of thing.¡±


    ¡°So have I. That doesn¡¯t explain everything, though.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­ why she had that with me and not you?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Two possibilities come to mind. One, it was just a product of the higher intensity of it. And two¡­ somewhere in her mind, she thinks of me as a threat and not you.¡±


    To any reasonable person, Edward Blackthorn is far more dangerous than I am. Both of those explanations seem plausible ¨C but neither of them seems particularly informative.


    ¡°I think a better question, though, is why she was so much more intense with me to begin with.¡±


    ¡°We agreed that before the flow state ¨C ¡°


    He shakes his head. ¡°I mean after.¡±


    ¡°Flow states aside, you¡¯re far better than me. Maybe that carries over into you in a flow state being better than me in a flow state as well.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°That might be a good point,¡± he says. ¡°But I have a different idea.¡±


    I don¡¯t see it; I wait for him to explain.


    ¡°I think that she was more surprised by my reaching the flow state than by your reaching it.¡±


    ¡°But why ¨C oh! The anomaly ¨C you think that could be why?¡±


    ¡°I think Electra thinks that could be why. And you¡¯ve got to admit, it¡¯s quite the coincidence otherwise. Your magical signature has a mysterious anomaly, and you can do something magical that shouldn¡¯t be possible ¨C no disrespect, obviously ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No offence taken,¡± I say. ¡°That is a good theory ¨C except that you reached a flow state too.¡±


    ¡°Which is why Electra didn¡¯t expect me to,¡± he says. ¡°But yes, you¡¯re right. It seems improbable that I have the same anomaly, but it seems equally improbable that you and I reached flow states independently in ways that look the same but are actually completely different.¡±


    ¡°The third possibility is that the anomaly has nothing to do with it and we both reached flow states in the same other way.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°I think we need to measure my magical signature. And yours.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± I ask. ¡°And¡­ what do we do then?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Nor do I.

 106. Worst-Case Scenario

    I thought Edward would want to tell his father ¨C I was prepared to beg him not to ¨C but he¡¯s vehemently against it. ¡°The potential of what we could do,¡± he says. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ he¡¯d want to use that. Anything else would be a waste of resources. What we want would be irrelevant.¡±


    I don¡¯t object. It almost makes me reconsider my decision not to tell him about Elsie ¨C almost. Because Edward, like his father, has a concept of his people, but it¡¯s a very different concept to Lord Blackthorn¡¯s. Those in his circle are expected to be completely loyal to him, and receive the same unflinching loyalty in return.


    I know I¡¯m in this circle of Edward¡¯s. But Elsie isn¡¯t. That, for him, is the crucial difference between the two situations that might well lead to his making a different decision. So I can¡¯t give him the opportunity to do that.


    ¡°The problem,¡± he says, ¡°is Electra.¡±


    ¡°You can say that again,¡± I mutter.


    He does. ¡°More specifically,¡± he adds, ¡°what Electra knows.¡±


    ¡°As much as us,¡± I agree. ¡°Possibly more.¡±


    ¡°And,¡± Edward continues, grimacing, ¡°we don¡¯t know what she wants.¡±


    I believe that she¡¯s not quite as evil and twisted as she likes to pretend she is. I believe that she genuinely wants the best for her students. I believe that she wants to help us specifically, or at least wants us to view her favourably.


    But when it comes to something as big as this? I can¡¯t predict what she¡¯ll do. And that terrifies me.


    ¡°What¡¯s the worst-case scenario?¡± I ask.


    Asking that question of Edward of all people would generally be a mistake, but in this case I think it¡¯s necessary. ¡°She sells us out to someone. If it¡¯s Sirgal ¨C or another foreign power, I suppose ¨C they¡¯ll want to have us kidnapped or assassinated, and with Electra¡¯s help they probably have a reasonable chance of managing it. If it¡¯s someone in the Rasina establishment¡­ that¡¯s harder to predict.¡±


    He hesitates for a little while. ¡°Maybe they tell foreign powers. Maybe they tell my dad ¨C in which case as well as what we agreed he then knows we¡¯ve kept it from him and loses trust in us as a result. Maybe they keep it a secret and plan to use us in some way. Stars, maybe they even decide to make it public.¡±


    ¡°Why ¨C ¡°


    ¡°To hurt my dad. People would assume we¡¯re his assets, and it would be impossible to prove we¡¯re not. And the merest hint of my dad having secret and powerful combat assets ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re not saying we¡¯re ¨C as powerful as the best the Ministry of Intelligence has to offer?¡±


    ¡°Probably not, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Probably?¡±


    ¡°I think we can safely assume that Electra was part of an SMO, which means she was at least close to that level. And even if we allow for her being retired, out of practice, it¡¯s still got to be close. And at the end, I don¡¯t think she was holding back against me.¡±


    ¡°And you neutralised everything she did,¡± I finish. It¡¯s beginning to sink in that what we did ¨C what Edward did, in particular ¨C really was extraordinary. More than anyone should realistically be capable of. And that something like that matters.


    Edward nods grimly. ¡°In hindsight, given all of that, I¡¯m not sure we should be having this conversation here, even with the best privacy wards I can manage.¡±


    ¡°We do need to have this conversation, though,¡± I say. ¡°And¡­ are there more secure places that don¡¯t belong to your dad?¡±


    He shakes his head. ¡°That¡¯s the problem.¡±


    Stars. On second thoughts, maybe I shouldn¡¯t have asked Edward for the worst-case scenario. No-one with any stake in political or military matters can ever find out about this if I want any hope of a relatively normal life, that¡¯s the impression I¡¯m getting.


    But¡­ ¡°There isn¡¯t anything we can do about it, if Electra does decide to sell us out. Is there?¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Not unless we could offer her something more than what she¡¯d get from doing it. Which is¡­ not something I think we can do without my dad¡¯s involvement.¡±


    That¡¯s what I thought. ¡°So¡­ she already has enough to ruin our lives, if she wants to.¡±


    ¡°Yup,¡± says Edward with fake cheerfulness. Then he realises my point. ¡°You¡¯re saying ¨C we have nothing to lose by asking for her help.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He lets out a slow breath. ¡°Instinctively that feels wrong. It¡¯s certainly risky. If we go back to her, trust her, it makes it far easier for her to directly act against us. And we¡¯d be giving her more information on our exact capabilities, most likely ¨C she¡¯d want to experiment with them ¨C we should do that on our own, really.¡±


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    ¡°It¡¯s still less risky than telling anyone who doesn¡¯t already know,¡± I say. ¡°Unless there¡¯s anyone we can trust absolutely who¡¯d also know enough to help us.¡±


    His silence answers my unspoken question.


    ¡°Do we need to tell anyone at all, though?¡± he asks after a pause.


    ¡°If we want to understand what we can do and why, we¡¯re not going to be able to do it on our own. Are we?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± he agrees. ¡°And¡­ we do need to at least talk to Electra about this. We can¡¯t just leave it hanging.¡±


    And so we have a next step. I¡¯m not convinced that it¡¯s the right one ¨C I don¡¯t have the faintest idea how to find the right one ¨C but just having it makes me feel a little better.


    ¡°But we should figure out as much as we can on our own before that,¡± he adds. ¡°Information is going to be a precious resource for us now.¡±


    ¡°You mean you just want something to experiment on,¡± I tease.


    ¡°That as well,¡± he admits shamelessly.


    We don¡¯t begin the experiments immediately. Instead we just discuss the evidence we have so far. There isn¡¯t much of it, at least at first. The anomaly which I have and which Edward may share. The feeling we both had immediately before, failure and frustration.


    ¡°I think I might have experienced something similar before,¡± Edward says suddenly.


    I narrow my eyes, trying to think when it would have been, and then I realise: ¡°The riot. When you were¡­ holding back the crowd.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Not for most of it. But you remember, towards the end, I made a mistake?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°I thought¡­ well. I thought we were both going to die. And some part of me¡­ I just remember thinking I wouldn¡¯t let that happen. And then I was moving faster than I knew how to, getting every spell perfect. It was only for a few seconds, until my dad showed up. And I was under a lot of stress at the time. So I didn¡¯t think anything more of it, but now¡­¡±


    ¡°I think it was, as well.¡±


    ¡°What about you?¡± he asks.


    My immediate response is no, of course not, but I bite it back. I can¡¯t afford to miss any details with something like this. I think back through everything that¡¯s happened today. The clue isn¡¯t where I expect to find it, though: it¡¯s the conversation between Edward and Electra before either of us reached a flow state. About failure. About a time he failed previously, and a time I didn¡¯t when I should have.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± I say. ¡°Do you remember that time in Felicity¡¯s lesson?¡±


    He does. ¡°The illusion. You worked it out on the spot, under pressure, when no-one expected you to be able to.¡±


    ¡°I felt just the same as I did today. I just wanted to wipe that smile off her face, and then¡­ it just happened.¡±


    ¡°Stars,¡± Edward whispers.


    I stare at him blankly. Surely that¡¯s not any more impressive than what we¡¯ve already done? ¡°Do you think it was the same thing?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°It seems quite the coincidence for it not to be. But if it is¡­ you know what that would mean?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°Being able to slip into a flow state far more easily than we should is one thing. That implies it¡¯s something far more than that. Near-perfect understanding of magic, in the right circumstances. The ability to learn it far faster than should be possible.¡±


    I¡¯m beginning to see his point.


    ¡°Stars, Tallulah. If we could learn to summon that state of mind at will, without getting ourselves killed or turning into mala sia in the process¡­ we could be the greatest magicians since the Mages.¡±


    I can¡¯t process his words. I can¡¯t process any of this. It¡¯s not something that should happen to me. I¡¯m not supposed to even be a magician. I think I¡¯ve somehow convinced myself this is an abstract problem affecting some stranger. It¡¯s not real. It¡¯s not me.


    ¡°If,¡± I repeat, feeling a little afraid for this hypothetical stranger.


    ¡°New magic is always risky. And something like this¡­ you know what Electra said about the dangers of the flow state.¡±


    I nod. Was it really only a few hours ago that she explained how a magician could get themselves killed or worse by losing themselves to the flow, and I decided I never wanted to risk that happening? ¡°We don¡¯t have to,¡± I say.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t have to take so many risks to become the greatest magicians since the Mages. I don¡¯t know about you, but I¡¯d rather stay alive and sane.¡±


    Edward stares at me blankly for a moment, and I realise that the thought hadn¡¯t even crossed his mind until that moment. Of course he¡¯d want to use that kind of power. Becoming the sort of magician that he¡¯s talking about is everything he¡¯s ever wanted.


    He¡¯s also right about the dangers, though. Not just of the flow state. The more I think about it, the more a disquieting idea lodges itself in my mind. ¡°Is it possible to¡­ possess someone by magic?¡±


    Edward tenses immediately as he realises my meaning. ¡°There¡¯s a spell that lets you sense what another person senses. There are animation spells on another person¡¯s body. Assuming you can work your way around the human-targeting barrier.¡±


    The human-targeting barrier is an important concept in magical theory: put simply, it means that spells become exponentially harder to cast and require far more power when you attempt to use them on another human. It¡¯s not impossible to work around, though, and its limitations have been the subject of much study.


    ¡°That¡¯s not what you mean, though, is it?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°All study and practice of mind magic has been outlawed for centuries, and for good reason.¡±


    I don¡¯t ask what those reasons are. I don¡¯t want to know.


    ¡°I do see your point, though. It didn¡¯t¡­ quite feel like it was me blocking those spells. The closest analogy was, well, when I Fell. Do you think it could be related to Malaina?¡±


    I shrug, thinking back to that day at Genford and then to the incident in the library. ¡°Yes and no,¡± I say. ¡°The feeling that I wasn¡¯t the one in control ¨C that¡¯s the same. But¡­ with this, I¡¯ve never done anything I wouldn¡¯t normally do if I were capable of it.¡±


    Edward grimaces. ¡°There are theories about Malaina that propose the same is true of active episodes.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not, though. Is it?¡±


    ¡°Stars, I hope not,¡± he agrees. Then, after a pause, he continues: ¡°So. Possession. That¡¯s your theory, then?¡±


    ¡°Calling it a theory seems a bit of a stretch. Do you think it¡¯s likely?¡±


    ¡°I think that according to what¡¯s known and believed about magic, it¡¯s impossible. I also think that according to what¡¯s known and believed about magic, what we just did is impossible.¡±


    That scares him, I realise. Magical theory is almost like a religion for him: yes, so much of it is dependent on belief, but there are fundamental truths to it, unchanging constant rules. And we¡¯ve just broken them.


    ¡°Given that, you might be better placed to figure this out than I am.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing at that. ¡°But you know far more ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Exactly. This isn¡¯t a problem that can be solved within the bounds of what I know. So someone who isn¡¯t constrained by those boundaries ¨C ¡°


    I can¡¯t work out whether to take what he¡¯s saying as a compliment or an insult. So I take it in the way it¡¯s meant, as a pragmatic and quite likely accurate assessment of the situation. ¡°Okay. Possession, then.¡±

 107. Temptations

    My theory is simple: there¡¯s some sort of parasite feeding off our magic. Whether it arose naturally somehow or was planted there, who knows? But it¡¯s buried itself somewhere deep inside of us, and now it¡¯s lingering in our minds and occasionally lending us its extraordinary powers.


    And our accepting that loan is a very dangerous thing to do, because it comes at a cost: influence over our minds and bodies. And we have no understanding of what it could want. If it even exists.


    ¡°If it was planted there ¨C stars. I don¡¯t know who could possibly be capable of something like that, but¡­ the idea that someone could have that sort of influence over us, and what they could make us do¡­¡± Edward shudders.


    I don¡¯t need the worst-case scenarios for something like that explained to me. ¡°And if it¡¯s natural¡­ well, natural parasites want to survive and reproduce. Actually ¨C what if that¡¯s why it¡¯s both of us? It spread from one of us to the other?¡±


    I like that theory. The idea that it¡¯s not anything special about me, not really, just that I happened to be sufficiently close to Edward.


    ¡°It¡¯s possible. Testable, as well ¨C though we¡¯d have to be careful not to give away what we were doing to them, I¡¯d need to think about how best to do it ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Hold on,¡± I say, with a sinking feeling. ¡°What exactly are we ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If it is infectious, then likely it will have passed on to one or more of your other friends, so ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I say immediately.


    ¡°It¡¯s for a good reason ¨C ¡°


    And I promised not to do evil in pursuit of a greater good. I can¡¯t tell him that, though. There has to be a connection between what Amara told me and what we¡¯ve just discovered, I realise, but it¡¯s not one I can talk to Edward about. Not one I can talk to anyone about ¨C Amara was immensely helpful, but she was also very open about her ulterior motives for helping me.


    ¡°No,¡± I repeat instead.


    ¡°This is one of those things that makes you a good person, isn¡¯t it? Not wanting to experiment on your friends without their consent?¡±


    I ignore his implication that he¡¯s not a good person, because it¡¯s more important to make him understand my other objections in the hopes he¡¯ll take them seriously instead of going behind my back. ¡°That¡¯s not the only reason it would be unethical,¡± I say. ¡°The sort of situation you¡¯d have to engineer¡­ failure and frustration¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d go through failure and frustration a thousand times for powers like this.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°You would, but¡­ most people aren¡¯t you, Edward.¡±


    Edward takes in that shocking revelation in silence. ¡°Fine,¡± he says after a long pause. ¡°No experimenting on your friends. Got it.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll go back on his word. Even if it is only because I care about it rather than because he actually understands the ethical considerations. I don¡¯t much like the idea that I¡¯m Edward¡¯s conscience, but it¡¯s an awful lot better than his not having one.


    ¡°If you¡¯re right about it being some form of possession, though¡­ we need contingencies against our minds and bodies being influenced.¡±


    That is a sensible point, but it¡¯s also such an Edward thing to say that I can¡¯t help laughing a little. ¡°Does the Ministry for Intelligence not have standard procedures for this situation?¡±


    ¡°The existence or otherwise of standard Intelligence procedures for any given situation is classified.¡± His lips are twitching in amusement, though.


    ¡°Okay, no applying standard procedures, then. We have to design our own. It helps that we know each other well enough we could notice if the other started acting strangely.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°We don¡¯t know the specific form this possession ¨C if it exists ¨C could take, though, which makes things a lot more complicated. Kill switches are always a good idea, I suppose, but¡­¡± he breaks off as he sees my horrified stare.


    ¡°Tell me that doesn¡¯t mean what I think it means,¡± I say. As he opens his mouth to reply, I add hastily ¡°Truthfully.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± He stops. ¡°Yeah. It¡¯s what you¡¯re thinking. It does get messy though ¨C we¡¯d really need one made by someone who¡¯s a good enough enchanter that we couldn¡¯t disable them if we were possessed. If we assume that it doesn¡¯t have knowledge beyond ours¡­ I could probably make one for you ¨C though that relies on ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Stop,¡± I say, trying to work out whether I¡¯m amused or horrified. I settle on both. ¡°Generally it¡¯s a good idea to ask someone whether they agree that something like that is a good idea and whether they¡¯re okay with you having the power to, well¡­¡±


    The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    He pauses for a second. ¡°Yeah. Fair point. Do you, and are you?¡±


    Well, I suppose at least he¡¯s trying. ¡°¡­I don¡¯t know,¡± I say. ¡°Give me time to think about it.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°Time to think. We both need a lot of that, don¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    ¡°Speaking of time, though¡­¡± He points to the clock on the meeting room wall, which reads one and twenty after noon. ¡°We should get lunch.¡±


    I am hungry, I realise as he mentions it. Has it really been all morning? It feels like it¡¯s been at once an eternity and an hour at most since the day began. It seems almost silly to be worrying about food at a time like this, but as I¡¯ve learnt the hard way we can¡¯t get away with skipping meals.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t need to say this, but we¡¯re not talking about anything to do with this in public.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to say that,¡± I agree.


    Robin is sitting on her own in the dining hall, absently munching at her bread roll as she stares at the parchment that sits on the table next to her plate, when we arrive. She doesn¡¯t notice my attempts to attract her attention, so we resort to just walking up to her with our trays.


    ¡°What are you working on?¡± Edward asks.


    ¡°Oh ¨C nothing that important, just an attempt to apply the Tiller-Morgan theory of elementary ritual-work to more modern problems. It doesn¡¯t seem to be working that well, though.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because Tiller-Morgan is half a century out of date,¡± Edward says immediately. ¡°What you want to be looking at is¡­¡±


    However great a magician I apparently could be, following the resulting conversation is beyond me, so I don¡¯t even try. That means there¡¯s nothing to distract me from my thoughts except the food, which while filling enough is bland and dull.


    I understand what¡¯s happened today ¨C more or less, except for the parts no-one can understand. I just can¡¯t get a sense of what it really means. Or why it¡¯s me of all people. I was never supposed to be special. I was going to be a lawyer, stars.


    That¡¯s the difference between Edward and I, I guess. He always knew he was special and that he was going to be a great magician. He always knew people would want to use and manipulate him. Today¡¯s revelations don¡¯t change his entire life, not the way they change mine. That¡¯s why he can just have a perfectly ¡°normal¡± conversation about magical theory now. Whereas I repeatedly find my eyes straying to the high table where the teachers sit, those of them that haven¡¯t left for the holidays.


    Where, in particular, Electra is sitting. She doesn¡¯t seem to be watching me, and I doubt she¡¯ll come up to us ¨C especially with Robin here ¨C but there¡¯s still an unspoken tension between us.


    Edward and I agreed just before breaking for lunch that it was best to speak to her before trying any tests ¨C he¡¯s worried that doing it on our own could be dangerous, and if he thinks a magical experiment is dangerous then I¡¯m inclined to believe him. But we still haven¡¯t decided exactly how much we¡¯re prepared to tell her, what we¡¯re prepared to bargain with, and we can¡¯t talk to her until we know that.


    That feels like something I can do, more than magical research or trying to understand the impossible. Edward might know magic, but I know people. I never thought understanding how normal people think would be this important ¨C though then again, Electra probably doesn¡¯t count as a normal person. Understanding how she thinks is a completely different challenge.


    I turn the problem over in my mind until we¡¯ve finished eating. Well, until I¡¯ve finished eating: Edward and Robin are sufficiently caught up in their discussion that they seem to have forgotten the existence of their food, or that there¡¯s a third person sitting with them.


    I don¡¯t interrupt. They¡¯re enjoying themselves, and losing himself in magical theory is probably helping Edward. I know it would help me to have a similar conversation about the First Civil War ¨C if only Elsie were here ¨C


    Stars. Elsie.


    Do I tell her? She told me her secret, which was just as precious and dangerous as this. And if she can use what Amara told me to learn the true gift of prophecy, then maybe she could get us the information we need without the need to go through an established power ¨C


    Stars. No wonder she¡¯s so terrified of being used. How easy it is for me to think it¡¯s a good idea, because I have a great enough need. Elsie told me because she trusted me not to do that, to help her instead of using her to help myself.


    But¡­ oh, Edward seems to be trying to extricate himself from his conversation with Robin: ¡°Tallulah and I are working on our own project, I¡¯m afraid.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± she asks, looking faintly disappointed. ¡°Can I ask what it¡¯s about?¡±


    ¡°You can,¡± Edward replies, ¡°but I won¡¯t tell you.¡±


    ¡°Blackthorn family secrets?¡± Robin guesses.


    ¡°Yup.¡±


    Well, I imagine him telling me in an attempt to justify why he¡¯s not lying to her, it¡¯s my secret and I¡¯m part of the Blackthorn family, so by definition¡­ I bite my lip to prevent my laugh from escaping and attracting awkward questions.


    ¡°If you decide you¡¯d rather work on helping me apply the updated Cavendish-Morgan-Allen theory of elementary ritual-work to modern problems ¨C thank you so much for walking me through the basics of that ¨C then you know where to find me.¡± Robin smiles. I don¡¯t think Edward picks up on the hint of sadness in it, but I do.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± says Edward as we¡¯re returning to the meeting room. ¡°I know you were a bit lost there.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s hard to get lost without even trying to follow you,¡± I say, teasingly.


    ¡°Fair. But¡­ yeah. Using an out-of-date theory aside, she had some very interesting ideas. I hadn¡¯t realised she was quite that good at magical theory.¡±


    ¡°You should tell her that,¡± I say without thinking.


    ¡°Should I? Why?¡±


    Stars, how can someone be at once so understanding and so blind? ¡°¡­because telling people they¡¯re good at something ¨C assuming they actually are ¨C is generally a good thing?¡± I can¡¯t explain why in this specific instance it would be good for Robin to hear that from Edward, though. Why can¡¯t my friends just sit down and have honest conversations with each other?


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    I think this is one of the times when Edward¡¯s pretending not to understand things to mess with me instead of one of the times he actually doesn¡¯t understand them. It¡¯s very hard to tell. We both have bigger things to worry about, though.


    We take the precaution of using a different meeting room to the one we were in earlier, just in case anyone saw us this morning and placed eavesdropping magic hoping we¡¯d come back. I watch Edward more carefully than normal as he chalks the privacy wards. That isn¡¯t sufficient for me to replicate them, of course ¨C but it might be sufficient for my strange new powers to let me replicate them.


    If I could summon them at will. If it wasn¡¯t so potentially dangerous to use them. The thought is there in the back of my mind, though: I could take that shortcut to solving a major long-term problem before the need becomes more urgent than it already is.


    I shouldn¡¯t, but I could.

 108. Colours

    Maybe half an hour later, we¡¯re standing outside Electra¡¯s office.


    ¡°Ready?¡± asks Edward, hand poised to knock.


    ¡°As ready as I¡¯m going to get.¡± Without several days to just lie on my bed, hiding from the world while I take everything in. I don¡¯t have that luxury, though.


    He knocks.


    ¡°Miss James,¡± says the enchantment-Electra, ¡°is not in her office at present. Please come back later.¡±


    For a brief second, I¡¯m relieved about having that little bit more time. Then I wonder where she is, if not in her office. Edward and I share a grimace.


    ¡°Well,¡± I say. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll come back later then.¡±


    We didn¡¯t exactly make other plans for the afternoon, but I can¡¯t face the thought of doing nothing relevant to this morning¡¯s events. There has to be another next move, something I should be doing.


    I don¡¯t know what it is, though, and the consequences of a wrong move are terrifying. So I just return to my book. It does improve a lot when it passes beyond Philippa the Bright¡¯s reign, at least, and the analysis of how even then the seeds that would lead to the Second Civil War were being planted is fascinating.


    It¡¯s unusual, though. I don¡¯t remember a previous occasion when I tried to find Electra and she wasn¡¯t there ¨C though, to be fair, I haven¡¯t gone looking for her outside of lessons that often. But maybe it¡¯s different outside of term-time. What does she do when she isn¡¯t working?


    There has to be a perfectly innocent explanation. Her absence has to have nothing to do with this morning. The alternative is too awful to contemplate.


    We return an hour later, and the same thing happens.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to work out,¡± Edward says, ¡°how long we can afford to wait before assuming the worst and telling my dad.¡±


    I grimace. ¡°A day? Two?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Maybe we¡¯re being stupid, hiding it from him. Maybe telling him is the only way to prevent a worse outcome.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I say, but there¡¯s no real strength to it.


    Another hour of reading, another return to Electra¡¯s office. The same response a third time. A third hour would take us outside normal working hours, but I¡¯m not sure to what extent Electra keeps to normal working hours. Is it worth coming back again today?


    ¡°We should ¨C ¡° Edward begins, and then stops: Electra appears from thin air, leaning against the wall, expression carefully blank.


    ¡°You want to talk with me?¡± she asks.


    My heart skips a beat. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. The episode doesn¡¯t have its usual force; at least I can understand it. I glance at Edward, who¡¯s as tense as I am.


    ¡°Where were you?¡± he asks.


    ¡°I was working,¡± Electra replies. ¡°Outside of term, I have no need to keep to regular office hours.¡± She crosses the corridor to her office and presses her hand to the door, which seems to dissolve at her touch. I hardly blink at it. ¡°Do come in. My office is warded sufficiently that we may safely discuss sensitive matters.¡±


    It feels like a mistake to follow her inside. That office is very much her territory; she has all the power inside it. But we¡¯ve agreed on this plan and decided it¡¯s the best one we have. That means no backing out now.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Edward tells me in response to my questioning glance. ¡°Come on.¡±


    He¡¯s not fine, though. I know what a Malaina episode looks like for him, and he¡¯s on the edge of one. But I have to trust that he can keep control. We step into Electra¡¯s office, and the door swings soundlessly shut behind us.


    She¡¯s adjusting something on the ivory panel that sits on the wall: activating stronger wards, I presume. It¡¯s only a few seconds before she turns to face us.


    ¡°Where were you?¡± Edward repeats.


    ¡°I was working. The specifics of what I was doing and where are not your business.¡±


    ¡°You have to ¨C ¡°


    This isn¡¯t the approach we agreed on. This isn¡¯t an approach that will work on Electra. I¡¯ve seen her face down Lord Blackthorn himself without a hint of fear; I don¡¯t think anyone could really intimidate her.


    I reach out to touch Edward¡¯s hand, and he falls silent. ¡°We¡¯re concerned,¡± I say carefully, ¡°about whether you were talking to anyone about what happened this morning.¡±


    This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°I was not,¡± Electra replies immediately, sinking into the depths of her chair. ¡°Nor will I, under any circumstances, without your permission.¡±


    That feels¡­ almost too easy. Edward agrees: ¡°Why should we believe you?¡±


    Electra shrugs. ¡°Whether you trust me or not is your own decision.¡±


    There isn¡¯t much we can say to that. I expected her to speak in her defence, but I misjudged her. That¡¯s worrying, considering how much rests on my understanding of Electra.


    ¡°What do you know,¡± I ask next, ¡°about what we did today?¡±


    ¡°What do you know about it?¡±


    ¡°Enough that you can¡¯t just pass it off as nothing special,¡± Edward snaps back.


    Electra sighs. ¡°Yes. That is the disadvantage of teaching a Blackthorn. It was, then, something special. Something that neither of you should by rights be capable of.¡±


    ¡°What was it, though?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    My heart sinks a little. It was a childish hope, that she would have all the answers and willingly give them to us, but it was a hope I had nonetheless.


    ¡°You have theories, though?¡± Edward asks.


    Electra nods. ¡°I will need to consult various sources to verify or disprove them. And, possibly, to conduct tests.¡±


    ¡°That would depend on what sort of tests,¡± I say. That¡¯s what Edward and I eventually agreed on earlier this afternoon: only if we¡¯re convinced they¡¯re safe and understand their purposes.


    ¡°Of course.¡±


    ¡°Do you think it¡¯s likely to be related to the anomaly in my magical signature?¡± I ask.


    Electra blinks. ¡°You know about that? Either you¡¯re sharper than I gave you credit for, or I¡¯m losing my touch.¡±


    Once again she surprises me. I was expecting her to evade and deny, not to admit that it exists so easily. ¡°You destroyed the device to hide it from me?¡±


    ¡°To hide it from that doctor,¡± she corrects. ¡°There¡¯s no telling what a man tasked with judging whether you were unstable and gifted with remarkably little understanding of the field he specialises in would have done with that knowledge.¡±


    She has a point, I have to admit. I don¡¯t like to think what the discovery of that strange thing about me then would have done to my prospects in the trial. Would it have been worse than the lack of evidence due to the destruction of the device? Quite possibly.


    ¡°But you never told me afterwards until¡­ this happened.¡±


    ¡°There was never a good time, was there? With all you¡¯ve dealt with since then, it would have been the height of cruelty to inflict that revelation on you at the same time. Besides, I wanted to have some idea of what it meant first.¡±


    Edward breathes in sharply, as if he¡¯s just figured something out. Which he has: ¡°That¡¯s why you agreed to teach Tallulah, isn¡¯t it? I thought you wouldn¡¯t value my owing you a favour quite that highly.¡±


    Electra blinks once, slowly, almost cat-like. Then she nods. ¡°The pair of you are going to be terrifying someday,¡± she says.


    ¡°If we survive that long,¡± Edward replies flatly.


    ¡°If,¡± she agrees. ¡°I will do what I can to make sure you do.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    Electra laughs, with what seems to be genuine amusement. ¡°Because you are my students, and it is my job to make sure you remain alive and sane, and perhaps learn a few things along the way. Not everyone has an ulterior motive for their actions all of the time.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what someone with an ulterior motive would say,¡± Edward replies immediately.


    ¡°As I said: whether you trust me or not is your decision. But I have reached the same conclusion that I expect you have on the anomaly: it would be strange for it to be caused by something different, and equally strange for you both to have reached flow states independently. Then again, if anyone could reach a flow state through sheer force of will, it would be Edward Blackthorn. That¡¯s not the compliment you think it is,¡± she adds in response to the pleased and surprised expression crossing Edward¡¯s face.


    ¡°I suppose the first test is obvious, given that,¡± she adds.


    ¡°My signature,¡± Edward agrees.


    Electra snaps her fingers and one of the devices she keeps on her shelves flies from its place to settle in the centre of the table. It doesn¡¯t look much like the ill-fated one that measured my signature, not that I remember that in any detail. But I do remember the wire that wound uncomfortably around my finger then, and there¡¯s no sign of that on this device.


    It¡¯s a perfect cylinder, about the size of my palm and only an inch or so high, and is made of a smooth dark wood without markings. Atop it rests something that shimmers slightly in the bright light: a thin sheet of some glasslike material.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the usual device for such measurements,¡± Edward observes, tone carefully neutral.


    ¡°I¡¯ve found that generally inconvenient and unreliable for any sort of precision work. This is custom-made for my requirements. If you will place your hand on top of the device, please?¡±


    Edward stares at the device in question for a long while before doing as instructed. There is no reaction, which shouldn¡¯t have surprised me: few enchantments are touch-activated, nearly all require the channelling of magic. And indeed that is Electra¡¯s next instruction.


    ¡°With which School?¡± Edward asks.


    Electra narrows her eyes. ¡°Of course ¨C signature measurements of multi-School magicians tend to be more difficult. And I suppose channelling with each School was the very first thing you taught yourself?¡±


    ¡°My dad taught it to me, actually,¡± Edward replies. ¡°But effectively, yes.¡±


    She sighs. ¡°Very well. I suppose we can take partial readings first. Siaril, if you please.¡±


    Edward nods and closes his eyes. A few seconds later, I see the glass-like material begin to gain colour where his hand rests on it: a deep purplish-red with flecks of white, patches of different shades spiralling around and around in an almost hypnotic pattern.


    ¡°That will do,¡± Electra says. ¡°Remove your hand.¡±


    Edward does so, and the colours fall still immediately. The shape of his hand is outlined in a red a little deeper than the background, and the white flecks have been swept by the current towards the edge of the disc.


    ¡°The readings aren¡¯t in the usual format, either.¡±


    I catch Edward¡¯s meaning after a second: they¡¯re not in the format that he would understand. Maybe no-one but Electra knows how to interpret them. That is suspiciously convenient.


    ¡°Are you that attached to conventional methods?¡± Electra asks.


    Edward winces.


    Electra ignores that and studies the patterns formed by Edward¡¯s magic for a second before pressing her own hand to the disc. The colours instantly vanish and the disc is restored to its original state. ¡°Malaina, now,¡± she says, leaning back in her chair again.


    Edward once again places his hand on the disc and closes his eyes. This time when the colours form it¡¯s much faster. Blue instead of red, is the obvious difference, and much lighter shades. And if the current of colour before was hypnotic, now it can only be described as chaotic. Swift and unpredictable changes of direction, sky-coloured whirlpools and fast-growing flows of darker shades. There are still white specks, but they¡¯re swept around so quickly I can barely see them.


    But again the movement stops when he removes his hand. The pattern looks much the same as before, save for the change in colour; no trace is left of the chaos that created it. Electra inspects the patterns and then erases them once more.

 109. Lucrezia

    ¡°Full readings, then,¡± she says. ¡°Tell me, what School were you using this morning?¡±


    ¡°Siaril for animation and shield, Malaina for counterspell and force-spell ¨C that was the system I tried, but the order you called the spells didn¡¯t let me consistently keep up that pattern.¡±


    ¡°That was deliberate,¡± Electra says. ¡°But I meant after that. In the flow state.¡±


    Edward pauses. ¡°I don¡¯t know. I wasn¡¯t thinking about it.¡±


    ¡°Do you recall any difference in the way you were casting different spells? When you were simultaneously casting, for instance?¡±


    ¡°¡­no,¡± he says slowly. ¡°But I assumed that was just not being consciously aware of my spellwork, not¡­ you¡¯re saying the boundaries between the Schools aren¡¯t as strict as they often seem, aren¡¯t you? That at a deeper level¡­¡± Edward¡¯s eyes are alight with excitement.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± says Electra. ¡°Remember what I told you in our first lesson?¡±


    I remember that lesson well, but I¡¯m not sure what specific part of it Electra is referring to. Edward is, though: ¡°Necessary illusion ¨C but I could ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do you know how your great-great-great-aunt Lucrezia died?¡± Electra asks casually.


    I haven¡¯t heard of a Lucrezia Blackthorn who did anything significant. Edward knows the name at least, because I see him suddenly tense. ¡°I was told it was of illness,¡± he says, words precise. ¡°But you have heard differently? How?¡±


    ¡°It is¡­ a cautionary tale told among certain circles, and one which you will hear before you leave this room.¡±


    Edward tenses further ¨C I reach out and touch his hand, letting him know that I¡¯m here if he needs me ¨C but all he says is ¡°Tell it, then.¡±


    ¡°Lucrezia was¡­ extraordinary, even at a young age and even for a Blackthorn. She refused to wait until her sixteenth birthday to become a magician. Her parents wanted her to wait until she was more mature, refused to arrange the Arsinth ritual for her. So after she turned thirteen, she took matters into her own hands and left home for the nearest spirit-forest.¡±


    In the hopes to persuade it to grant her the power of Latira. There have always been those desperate enough for magic to take that risk, but spirit-forests are infamously picky about who they grant their blessing to. And those they don''t take a liking to have been known to meet unfortunate ends deep within the forest.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need that kind of cautionary tale,¡± Edward says. ¡°So presumably she didn¡¯t die in the forest?¡±


    ¡°She did not,¡± Electra agrees. ¡°She was special enough that the spirit-forest granted her its favour, and she returned home a magician, just as she wanted. Her family were furious, of course, but there was nothing they could do but accept it. By the time she was sixteen she was a brilliant magician. It was her creative thinking that was her great strength: she never did anything the way it had always been done without questioning it and finding her own answers. She had her own unique way of working magic.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure telling Edward this story is cautionary. I can see that he¡¯s madly jealous of Lucrezia, that he would give almost anything to have her talent. A wicked part of me is satisfied that even Edward has someone better than him, even if she died over a century ago.


    ¡°And she turned sixteen, and came into her second School. And she began to experiment. She knew herself and her methods so well that she could enter a flow state as easily as breathing and always come out the other side alive. So once she did that with her second School, she reached much the same conclusion as you did. What is widely believed about the Schools is an illusion, and there was no reason she should not dispense with it altogether.¡±


    Yes. That is the point of Electra¡¯s story.


    ¡°She was warned, of course she was. But she¡¯d been warned about flow states and drawing on too much magic all her life, and none of those warnings had ever had merit. So she didn¡¯t listen. Her work revolutionised magical theory, building a completely new system of intent-based magic beyond any previous attempt. And no, you cannot read it, because there are no copies in existence. They have all been burnt.¡±


    Book-burning, to me, is one of the greatest evils there is (despite the uncharitable thoughts I may have had about certain textbooks). It¡¯s never really occurred to me before now that there can be knowledge that is dangerous enough that its destruction is truly necessary.


    ¡°Because of what happened to her,¡± I say. ¡°Because if anyone found it and tried to replicate her work, the same could happen to them.¡±


    Electra nods. Edward winces, but he¡¯s not quite as on edge as he was before Electra began telling this story. ¡°What was it?¡± he asks.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± Electra asks.


    ¡°Burnout,¡± Edward guesses.


    ¡°Of a kind rather more literal than I expect you¡¯re thinking,¡± Electra agrees. ¡°She was working on a new ritual. Her little brother, your great-great-grandfather, was watching ¨C she always had a soft spot for him. He saw how much magic the ritual demanded. And she¡¯d given too much of herself to magic, and too much magic to the ritual. It didn¡¯t stop when it had run her magic dry: it used her body as fuel. She burnt to ash in front of her brother.¡±


    ¡°Stars,¡± I whisper. I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll be able to forget that any time soon.


    ¡°I¡¯ll say this for her,¡± Electra adds. ¡°Her ritual-work was careful and thorough enough that once the ritual had exhausted her, there was not a speck of backlash from the vast amount of magic channelled through the array.¡±


    I don¡¯t have a sense of how impressive that is, but to judge by Edward¡¯s sharp intake of breath he does and it¡¯s very.


    ¡°So if you want to die the way she did, that¡¯s your business,¡± Electra concludes, ¡°but it¡¯s my business to make sure you don¡¯t do it until you¡¯re good enough to not take anyone else with you. By whatever means necessary.¡±


    If Edward was starting to relax a little, that threat snaps him back to full alertness. ¡°Point taken,¡± he says sharply. ¡°I won¡¯t question the foundations of magic for another few years. But I have a question.¡±


    ¡°Ask it.¡±


    ¡°Who told you this story?¡±


    ¡°Your great-great-grandfather wanted to spare talented young magicians his sister¡¯s fate,¡± Electra says instead of answering. ¡°He wrote it down and gave it to several of the other greatest magicians of that era, and since then it has been passed down amongst those and told to anyone who has her realisation or a similar one.¡±


    Edward pauses, considering. I ask the obvious question: ¡°Then you¡­¡±


    ¡°In a manner of speaking.¡± Her tone does not invite further questions, and neither of us ask them. ¡°Having thoroughly warned you against dispelling this particular illusion altogether, it is time to lift aside the veil just a little for the purposes of obtaining the full reading that was the reason I gave you the hints.¡±


    ¡°Oh. Yes. Right. I think I can manage that,¡± Edward says, and reaches out for the device once more. Despite his words, I expect him to struggle a little, but it barely takes a second¡¯s hesitation before the colours emerge again. The pattern is more complex this time: the deep red and pale blue spiral around each other, blurring together into a dozen shades of purple where they meet. And the white flecks have grown into spots and splodges, small but blindingly bright.


    I try to ingrain the pattern into my mind, memorise each detail so that I can pore over it and try to understand it later. It¡¯s hard to hold the precise nature of the boundaries and the flow of the currents in my head for more than a second, though.


    Edward removes his hand for the final time and slides the device across the table to Electra. She studies it for longer than before, maybe half a minute, before pressing her hand to it so that the pattern disappears.


    ¡°Well?¡± Edward asks.


    ¡°I would be very surprised if those measurements do not indicate the same thing as Tallulah¡¯s anomaly.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t seem particularly surprised. ¡°The white specks, I suppose?¡±


    Electra¡¯s expression is blank.


    ¡°Red and blue are the colours most usually associated with Siaril and Malaina respectively, whereas the white is not associated with any School, and I don¡¯t know of anything usual that it could mean.¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± says Electra.


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯re going to make me say everything I¡¯ve worked out so then you know exactly what not to tell me, are you?¡±


    I wince. Electra laughs. ¡°You are remarkably hard to manipulate,¡± she says.


    But that¡¯s an attempt at manipulation in itself, and it works: Edward¡¯s lips twitch upwards and he relaxes a little. I make a note to point that out to him later.


    ¡°You can¡¯t keep things from us,¡± Edward says. I expect him to make an argument that the secrets are ours because the anomaly is ours, but I should have known better. ¡°You need our cooperation if you want to understand this problem, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t intend to keep secrets from you unnecessarily. It¡¯s for your own good ¨C ¡°


    Edward grimaces, but my reaction is stronger. What right does she have to decide what is and isn¡¯t for my own good? It¡¯s not like she¡¯s ¨C


    My mother. That¡¯s why I had that instinctive hatred of the idea: my mother has made so many decisions that she thought were for my own good but which turned out to be anything but. She doesn¡¯t understand what¡¯s best for me.


    Electra, though? That¡¯s a different question. I set aside the emotional reactions and ask ¡°You mean¡­ secrets along the lines of revelations like Lucrezia¡¯s?¡±


    ¡°Similarly dangerous things. Theories that could be terribly dangerous, if I told you and they were wrong. Theories that could be terribly dangerous, if I told you and they were right.¡±


    I can¡¯t help shivering. I¡¯ve stepped into a world of magic completely beyond my understanding, a world where there are dangers everywhere and my best hope of avoiding them is to close my eyes and do nothing. And I didn¡¯t want ¨C


    It catches up with me in that moment. The Malaina episode that I¡¯ve somehow been avoiding all day hits me in a rush, so that before I know it I can hear my heart beating too quickly in my ears. And I feel as if I¡¯m watching Edward glare at Electra from somewhere far away ¨C this is bad, part of me dimly realises. Very bad.


    What am I supposed to do to stop this? Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. I vaguely feel Edward taking my hand: a little touch of warm, reassuring reality. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold. Timothy the Peacemaker.


    It takes maybe a minute or two before I feel like I¡¯m fully back in reality, during which time I get as far as the Second Civil War in my list of kings. ¡°Thank you,¡± I say when I can. ¡°And sorry.¡±


    ¡°Malaina?¡± Electra guesses. ¡°Then don¡¯t be. It¡¯s common to have stronger and more frequent episodes while dealing with something like this. Edward, if you experience similar then please inform me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I will,¡± Edward says.


    Not for the same reasons as me, at least. And while he¡¯s been more on edge than normal throughout this meeting, I think that if he hasn¡¯t come as close as I have by now then he¡¯ll be all right.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡± he adds. ¡°Thoughts on the measurements?¡±


    He must have sensed that I was ¨C am ¨C feeling very out of place here, like I can¡¯t contribute at all. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t it make sense to measure my signature as well?¡± I ask. ¡°To have complete confirmation?¡±


    ¡°If that¡¯s what you want,¡± says Electra, and pushes the device back across the table towards me.


    I take it, place my hand on top, and close my eyes.

 110. Subversion

    My signature is similar to Edward¡¯s partial reading for Malaina: the same spiralling, chaotic blue, the same white specks ¨C confirming the theory that Edward and I share this anomaly. The patterns differ in subtle ways, though I don¡¯t have the faintest chance of interpreting them. But I know I could watch my magic all day, if Electra let me. Which she does not.


    I let Edward¡¯s speculation about the anomaly and Electra¡¯s careful responses wash over me, trying to think though it on my own.


    The white specks appeared in both of Edward¡¯s partial signatures, which I think implies it¡¯s not a Malaina thing. But they were much more prominent in his full signature. That must have some meaning; I suppose it fits with the flow state and the way that likely drew on a similar form of magic not tied to any one School.


    Edward is asking about how often signature measurements are taken, how often magicians push their magical ability to the extent that we did this morning. I catch his meaning quickly: maybe it¡¯s actually something that many magicians can do, but most just don¡¯t know it.


    Electra shakes her head, though. ¡°Everyone who¡¯s taken my Magical Combat class has gone through similar exercises to those I gave you both this morning. None of them have reacted the way you did. And I have taught two or three hundred students.¡±


    My flicker of hope dies before it was fully formed. The emotional damping that follows my earlier Malaina episode is comforting. I wish this were the first time I¡¯d felt that way.


    Edward continues to be frustratingly calm and rational about all of this, suggesting various of our theories to Electra. She doesn¡¯t confirm or deny any of them, though it¡¯s impossible to tell whether she knows any more than we do.


    But she¡¯s very quick to deny us permission to carry out any practical tests. Too dangerous, apparently, and having heard stories like Lucrezia¡¯s I¡¯m inclined to agree. And yet the temptation is still there.


    ¡°I suppose that leaves us with the question of what we do next,¡± Electra says. ¡°I am still willing to teach you, if you are still willing to learn¡­ though perhaps not until tomorrow, since I will need to substantially modify my lesson plans.¡±


    Someone is laughing bitterly; it takes me a few seconds to realise that it¡¯s me. She just says it so seriously, as if her starry lesson plans matter a shred compared to what we¡¯ve discovered now. ¡°Sorry,¡± I say once I¡¯ve recovered. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­¡±


    Electra nods. ¡°I understand, at least somewhat.¡±


    ¡°These modifications,¡± says Edward. ¡°I suppose they would involve avoiding any remotely intense magical combat?¡±


    ¡°Most likely, yes.¡±


    ¡°I am prepared to resume lessons subject to that restriction. Tallulah?¡±


    Well, I can¡¯t refuse now that he¡¯s agreed, can I? But even without that, I think I would have agreed. The alternative is a few days of just normal life without even the routine of lessons, and I don¡¯t think I can go back to that after today. Stars, in just under a week I¡¯ll be going ¨C not quite home ¨C to stay with my dad for Holy Days, and I¡¯ll have to keep so much from him. I set that aside to worry about on some future day. ¡°Agreed.¡±


    By the time we leave Electra¡¯s office it¡¯s time for dinner. Edward and I reach the dining hall straight after it opens and claim our usual spot. ¡°Everything is normal,¡± he says.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Nothing at all unusual or intense happened today.¡±


    Oh. Yes. We do need to hide it from anyone who might be watching us. From Elizabeth and Robin, too, if they sit with us. Stars, I don¡¯t know if I can do that; I just want to curl up in a ball and do nothing. ¡°Got it,¡± I say nonetheless, because I don¡¯t have much of a choice.


    Elizabeth does join us. She doesn¡¯t ask more than a cursory ¡°how was your day¡±, though, before launching into the saga of her house-hunting misadventures. She hasn¡¯t had much fortune, apparently. At least one landlord explicitly refused to rent to her because she was Malaina ¨C which is perfectly legal, apparently. She¡¯s furious about it.


    Normally I would be too, but the most I can manage is making vaguely sympathetic noises whenever she pauses for breath. Fortunately she doesn¡¯t appear to notice how out-of-sorts I¡¯m acting.


    Robin also appears during a lull in the conversation, mind still clearly buried in the magical theory she¡¯s been working on. She does about as well at pretending to pay attention to Elizabeth¡¯s rant as I do. Both of us are beating Edward, who isn¡¯t even trying.


    I hope Elizabeth isn¡¯t too offended by our distraction. It is something I should care about and sympathise with, but I just¡­ can¡¯t, not today.


    ¡°So,¡± says Edward to Robin when Elizabeth next pauses, ¡°how have you found the applications of Cavendish-Morgan-Allen?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s been quite interesting, actually. I wish I¡¯d known about it before ¨C thank you so much for telling me, incidentally ¨C ¡°


    Well, we won¡¯t be getting any other conversation from those two for a while. It is quite an effective method of distracting Robin from any curiosity about our day, I have to admit; it just leaves me to deal with Elizabeth alone.


    ¡°Is ¨C there anything we can do?¡± I ask, desperately searching for something to say. ¡°To help?¡±


    Elizabeth hesitates for a moment. ¡°I ¨C I don¡¯t know. Short of throwing a load more money at the problem ¨C and I¡¯m not making Edward pay absurd prices on my behalf ¨C I doubt it.¡±


    I think Edward, with his warped views on money, would quite happily pay whatever absurd prices a prejudiced landlord would demand on Elizabeth¡¯s behalf. But I also understand exactly why Elizabeth wouldn¡¯t accept that. ¡°You could ask him,¡± I say regardless. ¡°Or¡­¡± I don¡¯t have an alternate suggestion. Legally speaking there¡¯s nothing Elizabeth can do, so we¡¯d somehow have to persuade a landlord to rent her a room at a reasonable price despite her being Malaina. Which does not seem like it could be easy.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep looking,¡± she says. ¡°If it comes to it, I can leave the City, but¡­¡± she sighs.


    I want to tell her that she won¡¯t need to, that there¡¯s some other solution and that I¡¯m going to find it for her. But I can¡¯t see anything I can do to help her. ¡°I hope everything works out,¡± I say instead. Empty words. Meaningless.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± Elizabeth says. ¡°And thanks for listening to me complaining, as well.¡±


    That, at least, I can do. It just doesn¡¯t feel like it makes a difference. ¡°If you do need any help, you know where to find me.¡±


    Edward accepts Robin¡¯s invitation to work on magical theory together this time. I know his interest is purely intellectual, but she doesn¡¯t. I¡¯m worried that if they start spending too much time alone together then Robin will get the wrong impression, which could get all sorts of ugly.


    It¡¯s funny, how I still care about silly things like that.


    Elizabeth decides to disappear for the evening, which suits me. I¡¯m on my own, and I need to be. All day I¡¯ve been longing to just curl up on my bed with a book. The consequences of losing myself that way, at least, will not be fatal.


    It takes longer than it normally does. A full chapter seems to drag; even though the material is interesting, I just struggle to focus on it. Not a surprise, really, though I¡¯d hoped otherwise. But I persevere, and eventually the familiar cast of characters come to life in my mind and I forget about the troubles of the present in favour of those of the past.


    And then I know it¡¯s getting late, but there¡¯s only one chapter left, and it won¡¯t take me that long to just finish it now so then I can start something new tomorrow. And by the time I do finish it, it¡¯s eleven and fifteen after noon. Seven hours and forty-five minutes before tomorrow¡¯s lessons start. Electra really is sadistic, isn¡¯t she?


    I set the book down and quickly change, then lie in bed trying to sleep. I don¡¯t know how long it takes me to fall asleep, but it¡¯s definitely too long.


    And I definitely don¡¯t sleep for long enough. I drag myself out of bed to discover that it¡¯s five and thirty after midnight. That¡¯s an awkward sort of time: too early to get up, too late to go back to sleep, and I don¡¯t even have the last chapter of my book to read. There¡¯s still A History of the Kings of Rasin to read. I practically have that memorised cover-to-cover by now, but its familiar weight in my hands and its familiar words in my mind are comforting.


    An hour and a hundred years later, I go down for breakfast. I¡¯m there only a couple of minutes after six and thirty, but Edward is still in his usual spot when I scurry over with my usual bowl of porridge.


    He¡¯s also paging through the usual papers; I¡¯m not sure if he¡¯s taking comfort from the familiar routine or if he just doesn¡¯t see any reason to change it. The news is still dominated by the election which will take place tomorrow; Edward doesn¡¯t find much of interest in it, though he does make the occasional sarcastic remark.


    By the time we¡¯ve finished eating, it¡¯s time to set off for Electra¡¯s office. She¡¯s waiting for us visibly this time. If I¡¯m not imagining it, she looks a little relieved to see us still alive and relatively well. But all she says is ¡°Do come in.¡±


    We do. I should be used to her office by now, but it will never cease to be disconcerting. I make myself as comfortable as I can.


    ¡°Today¡¯s lesson,¡± Electra informs us, ¡°will be entirely theoretical.¡±


    I feel a faint twinge of disappointment, but as the lesson goes on I discover that I was wrong to be disappointed. Electra has observed so much about how the pair of us think and cast over the past term, and she shares some of those observations with us this morning. It scares me more than a little, how accurate they are.


    But she¡¯s using them for good, and with their help Edward and I find ourselves absorbing information and understanding theory far better than we usually do. In Edward¡¯s case I didn¡¯t think that would be possible, but I¡¯m proven wrong.


    It¡¯s maybe an hour before lunch when a bell suddenly starts ringing. Startled, I lose focus on the notes I¡¯m taking. A drop of ink falls from my quill onto an already-written sentence, blotting it out. Edward tenses, too, and we glance around for the source of the noise until we see it: the ivory tiles attached to the wall are glowing red.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Electra says, glancing over at them. ¡°Just someone trying to subvert my ward network.¡±


    ¡°What,¡± says Edward. ¡°Tell me you have contingencies against this.¡±


    Electra smiles. ¡°Nope.¡±


    Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I close my eyes and try to breathe normally.


    ¡°I¡¯m tempted to just let him keep trying to see if he manages it. I probably shouldn¡¯t, though, it would be a pain to rebuild the network afterwards.¡±


    ¡°Him?¡± Edward says. His voice is tense and urgent. He¡¯s one bad moment away from a Malaina episode. ¡°You know who it is?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be certain, but I¡¯m confident. I¡¯ll let him in.¡±


    ¡°What ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    It¡¯s too late: Electra has pressed down on one of the ivory keys, and the door swings open to reveal Lord Blackthorn kneeling in front of it in the full robes of the Siaril Royal, staring intently at the floor. He stands as it swings open. ¡°That alarm ward built into the detection components was truly diabolical.¡±


    I can¡¯t work out whether I¡¯m relieved or not. It¡¯s not someone trying to hurt us, of course. But the number of things he could have worked out that I really don¡¯t want him to work out¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s generally considered polite to knock on a person¡¯s door instead of trying to subvert their ward network,¡± Electra says.


    ¡°I don¡¯t care what people generally consider polite. Tallulah, I¡¯d like to talk to you in private.¡±


    Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold.


    Stars. What does he know? If he¡¯s discovered something ¨C if he knows ¨C I can¡¯t ¨C ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°You may know something I need to know, and I know something you need to know.¡±


    Refusing isn¡¯t an option, is it? It would be as good as admitting I have something to hide.


    ¡°My office does have intact and extremely thorough privacy wards, no thanks to you,¡± Electra says. ¡°I¡¯m sure Edward and I would be happy to temporarily leave ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I just inspected that ward network, and I know it contains at least one eavesdropping ward. We will go elsewhere, thank you. Come, Tallulah.¡±


    He pivots smoothly and marches away without another word. I shoot Edward what I hope is a confused and sympathetic look and follow him. Well, I try to: he walks at the pace of a normal person¡¯s jog and doesn¡¯t once glance round to check that I¡¯m still there. And he¡¯s going up the stairs, presumably to one of the meeting rooms ¨C


    Having to jog up that many steps doesn¡¯t leave me with much energy left for panicking about what he¡¯s going to ask me. I wonder dimly if this kind of exercise would be a good coping mechanism for Malaina episodes; it probably would, though it might be impractical in a lot of circumstances.


    I¡¯m gasping for breath by the time I reach our destination ¨C as I suspected, a meeting room. Not the one Edward and I normally use. Lord Blackthorn holds the door open for me, but the moment I step through he turns his intention towards securing the room.


    I¡¯m used to seeing Edward draw privacy wards by now, but watching his father doing the same thing is very different. Lord Blackthorn casts two or three spells ¨C it¡¯s hard to tell when his lips barely move as he mutters incantations ¨C and then a piece of chalk flies out from a pocket of his robes and traces a line around the whole room, seemingly without his attention. The symbol it draws on the door is more complex than anything I¡¯ve seen Edward produce.


    The chalk falls to the ground when it¡¯s done, and Lord Blackthorn presses a nonchalant hand to the symbol. ¡°We can talk freely now,¡± he says.

 111. Bribery

    ¡°What I wanted to ask you about is a paragraph in a letter that your friend Elsie sent you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°¡­you¡¯ve been reading my mail?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    I¡¯m reminded powerfully of why Edward is so impossible to argue with. He just doesn¡¯t have an understanding that reading other people¡¯s mail is a breach of privacy and morally wrong. I suppose, considering who he is, that shouldn¡¯t be surprising. But it¡¯s still disturbing to know that someone somewhere in the machinery of the Ministry for Intelligence is reading my letters.


    I decide that it¡¯s a waste of time to argue that point. ¡°What paragraph are you referring to?¡± I ask instead. ¡°I can¡¯t think what would be of interest to you.¡± I¡¯m being honest, if only because I barely remember what Elsie wrote after everything that¡¯s happened since I read it.


    ¡°As for what we were worried about, it hasn¡¯t happened at all so far. I¡¯ve been back less than a day so I can¡¯t be certain of anything, but I almost feel as if it¡¯s gone away altogether. I wish it would, even though I know it doesn¡¯t work like that.¡± He quotes Elsie from memory. It feels wrong to hear her words coming from his mouth.


    I don¡¯t even feel my heart sink. I knew this was going to be bad regardless. All that does is tell me exactly which of the many possible flavours of bad it is. And I don¡¯t have a plausible lie or cover story, and I can¡¯t think of one on the spot ¨C and even if I could, being caught lying to him would be a disaster.


    But I can¡¯t tell him.


    And that, I realise suddenly, is exactly what I need to say. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you.¡±


    He blinks at me. ¡°You can¡¯t tell me,¡± he repeats flatly.


    I don¡¯t know what gives me the courage to meet his eyes, but I do. ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°And why not?¡±


    ¡°Because it¡¯s a personal matter.¡±


    ¡°A personal matter,¡± he repeats sceptically.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    He tilts his head to one side and examines me curiously, as if I¡¯m a puzzle to be solved. ¡°What do you want?¡± he asks.


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°What do you mean?¡±


    ¡°Money? A place to live? The latest enchanted gadgets?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re trying to bribe me,¡± I say disbelievingly.


    ¡°You¡¯re not interested. Then again, those aren¡¯t the things that would tempt you, are they? You might be aware that the Blackthorn family library contains many texts of historical value which are not publicly available. While I can¡¯t grant you access, it would be simple to have some of them copied and brought to you. Yes, I thought so,¡± he adds, seeing the look in my eyes.


    I can¡¯t help it: they¡¯re shining with delight at the mere idea of having those books. It would be truly priceless: the light they could shed on hundreds of years of history, the new perspectives they could offer and the mysteries they could solve.


    And all it would cost is Elsie.


    It hurts to say it, but that¡¯s no choice at all. ¡°No.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t look surprised or disappointed. It¡¯s just another data point to add to the map he¡¯s building of me. How I think, the choices I make, how he can make me do what he wants. It scares me a lot, what he¡¯s doing, but I know that his puzzle must have no solution. I can¡¯t betray Elsie.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t a trivial matter, is it?¡±


    ¡°Maybe it is to you, but not to Elsie. Or to me.¡±


    ¡°You know what I can do to people who keep secrets from me.¡±


    I freeze. Surely he¡¯s not suggesting ¨C he can¡¯t be ¨C the horror of the idea captures me for a moment, but only a moment. ¡°Yes. But I also know that you won¡¯t do any of those things to me. Because you know what hurting me would do to Edward.¡± I pause for effect. ¡°What he would do to you.¡±


    Another blink, another calculation. Then he laughs, and it¡¯s my turn to blink. This isn¡¯t funny, not remotely. What does it mean?


    ¡°Your word,¡± he says once he¡¯s recovered. ¡°That this personal matter is not according to your best judgement likely to be relevant to the safety and security of the country or the Blackthorn family, and that if it ever becomes so you will inform me as soon as reasonably possible.¡±


    It means I¡¯ve won. Stars, it means I¡¯ve won. ¡°You have it,¡± I say at once. I¡¯m not sure whether it¡¯s true or not ¨C knowing about a young oracle would most likely be very useful for the country and the Blackthorn family ¨C but it hardly matters.


    ¡°I suppose I should be glad that you are so loyal to your friends,¡± he says. ¡°Though your choice of friends may be somewhat less wise, in this instance.¡±


    I freeze, any hint of triumph washed away. ¡°What ¨C what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°That was not the only matter of interest in your Elsie¡¯s correspondence. You should be aware that she agreed to Mildred Cavendish¡¯s request to meet during the holidays.¡±


    No, I think, she didn¡¯t. But of course she did. Kind, trusting, open-hearted Elsie who always wants to see the best in everyone couldn¡¯t bring herself not to give Mildred a second chance. And now Mildred has her way into my circle, and by extension Edward¡¯s. And I can¡¯t even be angry at Elsie for it.


    ¡°I hope I don¡¯t need to warn you to be very careful with what you tell Elsie in future.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I agree. ¡°You don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Good. Shall we go?¡±


    I remember something then that I¡¯d forgotten amidst everything that happened yesterday. That article Edward showed me at breakfast. ¡°You hired my dad.¡±


    ¡°So I did.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because he¡¯s a good lawyer, and what¡¯s rarer a good lawyer without strong ties to any of the big City firms. And an honest one, as well.¡±


    ¡°And you expect me to believe that it¡¯s just a coincidence he¡¯s my father?¡±


    ¡°That was what initially brought him to my attention, and it is convenient, but it was not a substantial factor in my decision.¡±


    I can¡¯t work out if I believe him or not. ¡°This isn¡¯t ¨C some kind of plot to ¨C use him against me, or the other way round?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry about that,¡± Lord Blackthorn replies. ¡°I take good care of my people.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    That¡¯s the end of the conversation. With a wave of his hand, he wipes the chalk symbol off the door and dismisses the privacy wards. Then he¡¯s marching back towards Electra¡¯s office, leaving me trailing in his wake.


    I¡¯ve just about caught up by the time he reaches the door. He knocks on it this time. Electra, being herself, doesn¡¯t immediately let him in. He probably deserves it, but it means that Lord Blackthorn and I have to stand in excruciating silence for a full minute before she finally relents and opens the door.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad to see you haven¡¯t murdered my student,¡± she says, smiling slightly. ¡°Is that your business here concluded?¡±


    ¡°I would like to speak to my son also,¡± Lord Blackthorn says. ¡°If that would not be too much trouble.¡± There¡¯s a strange lilt to those words. Spoken by someone who doesn¡¯t care what people generally consider polite, it¡¯s almost ominous.


    Electra doesn¡¯t seem the slightest bit fazed by it. In fact, she seems almost pleased. ¡°Since you have already disrupted my lesson so much, I suppose a little more can¡¯t hurt, if Edward is willing.¡±


    Edward gets to his feet without a word, and the two of them are gone before I¡¯ve even stepped through the doorway.


    ¡°Well,¡± Electra says, ¡°don¡¯t just stand there.¡±


    So I do step through and reclaim my seat. The door swings shut behind me with a click that¡¯s almost reassuring. Electra can be terrifying when she wants to be, but right now I¡¯m far more scared of Lord Blackthorn.


    ¡°What did he want with you?¡± she asks.


    ¡°To discuss a personal matter,¡± I reply flatly.


    ¡°One you didn¡¯t want to discuss?¡± she suggests.


    I nod.


    ¡°Did he threaten you?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°He tried.¡±


    ¡°He tried,¡± Electra repeats. ¡°You are¡­ quite something, Tallulah.¡±


    I didn¡¯t think what I did just now was anything special, but when she puts it that way¡­ I just refused the Black Raven and got away with it. I would never have dared if I hadn¡¯t had the security of his son caring about me, though.


    ¡°I¡¯m going to give you some advice,¡± she continues. ¡°For reasons that will become clear, please don¡¯t tell anyone what I¡¯m about to say.¡±


    I have to hide a grimace at the thought of yet more secrets, but that thought is eclipsed by what she says next.


    ¡°Be careful about Edward.¡±


    I stare at her blankly.


    ¡°What the two of you have is something very special. Something a lot of people would do anything for. You¡¯re each other¡¯s greatest support and strength. That is a good thing, don¡¯t ever think otherwise ¨C but. Being that closely entwined with another person, needing them that much, can be very dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I know people will try to use me against him,¡± I say. ¡°Mildred already did that.¡±


    But she shakes her head. ¡°What happens,¡± she asks, ¡°when the two of you disagree fundamentally?¡±


    I don¡¯t ask what she means. I¡¯m not quite sure, but I¡¯m beginning to realise that she might just have a very good point.


    ¡°Because you will, in the end. Both of you have certain principles you cannot compromise, and you are not similar enough that those principles will never come into conflict. What happens then?¡±


    What would happen if, as a purely hypothetical example, Edward found out that Elsie was an oracle and wanted to tell his father? It doesn¡¯t matter what that would do to our friendship, what matters is what it would do to Elsie. I can¡¯t let that happen ¨C


    Damn her, Electra is right. That, I think, is a principle I cannot compromise.


    ¡°Conflict between two people who have given as much of themselves to each other as the pair of you have is¡­ an awful thing. It would hurt both of you terribly. Maybe enough to break you.¡±


    Stars. She¡¯s not telling me anything I don¡¯t already know, not really. But that is not the kind of truth I want to face. Why is she telling me this? Does she really think I need to hear this? Stars, has she guessed that I¡¯m keeping secrets from Edward?


    ¡°Thank you for the warning,¡± I say carefully.


    ¡°If you need to talk about anything of that nature, you know where to find me. I won¡¯t always be available, but¡­ I will do what I can.¡±


    I¡¯m surprised by how much that actually helps. And I hate the fact that I have to question why she¡¯s making that offer. At some point I started to believe she does want the best for her students, but I¡¯m willing to bet that offer isn¡¯t one she¡¯d make Elsie or Robin, or even Elizabeth.


    Because I¡¯m special, then. Because of this anomaly. I don¡¯t know if she has the answer, but she definitely knows more than she¡¯s telling us. And maybe it¡¯s for the best that we don¡¯t know, because the knowledge itself is dangerous. Or maybe it¡¯s because she wants something more than what¡¯s best for us.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say nonetheless, hoping desperately I¡¯ll never have to take her up on it.


    ¡°And since we have this time alone together¡­ is there anything you want to ask me?¡±


    There are a lot of things I want advice on, but none I trust Electra enough to reveal. Another thought occurs to me, though: ¡°Can I ask you¡­ personal questions?¡±


    ¡°You may, but that does not mean I will answer them.¡±


    About what I expected. Still, this opportunity is not one I expect to get again. I don¡¯t know quite where to start. I have many, many questions about the mystery that is Electra. ¡°How did you end up working with Malaina?¡± I ask first, after taking a moment to think. ¡°I can¡¯t see you as the sort to decide to devote your life to that out of the goodness of your heart.¡±


    ¡°You are correct. My brother was Malaina, and he relied on me for support. I learnt a lot about Malaina from him, and I realised at some point that people needed my knowledge and experience.¡±


    People needed me. It¡¯s not a sentiment I expected from Electra. I didn¡¯t expect it to be a sense of duty that drove her. But a duty to what? I don¡¯t think it¡¯s people or the world in general. And she used the past tense. That paints a grim picture.


    ¡°Was,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°The past tense is deliberate,¡± Electra agrees.


    ¡°Was it because of Malaina?¡± I ask. ¡°Did he become mala sia, or¡­?¡±


    ¡°Not as far as I know.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± I say, startled. ¡°How can you not know?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°We lost touch some time ago. I don¡¯t know what¡¯s happened to him since. I will not answer further questions about this.¡±


    Not the assumption I made, then. Not something I would have guessed. It raises more questions than it answers. I pause for a second, adding mysterious long-lost brother to my mental picture of Electra. ¡°You teach Magical Combat,¡± I say. ¡°Have you seen real combat?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°War, or¡­¡±


    ¡°I served on the mala sia taskforce for a short while.¡±


    That does make a lot of sense. Only the very best fighters are trusted with the difficult task of taking down those Malaina who become monsters bent on destruction, and it fits with her knowledge of Malaina as well. Edward and I guessed at that possibility long ago, but discarded it because ¨C because the mala sia taskforce tend to have a short enough life expectancy that she¡¯d be unlikely to have survived.


    I guess she beat those odds. ¡°Why did you join it? And why did you leave it?¡±


    ¡°I joined because I thought it was a worthy purpose to devote my life to. I left because I sustained an injury that limited my combat capabilities to the extent I could not serve effectively.¡±


    I blink a few times. ¡°Your leg,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯ve seen you limping.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Not many people notice, but I¡¯m not surprised you did.¡±


    I don¡¯t quite know what to make of that, so I ask my next question to avoid lingering on it. ¡°But surely enough time and enough magical healing can fix any injury? Physical injuries, at least.¡±


    ¡°Not,¡± Electra says, ¡°if it is caused by a curse.¡±


    Stars. When we travelled through the Portal Network to come to the Academy, Electra told the guard that she was cursed, but that it was perfectly contained. I¡¯d forgotten, perhaps unsurprisingly given everything that¡¯s happened since. ¡°I thought cursed wounds were always fatal?¡±


    ¡°Mine is not, at least. Though most are, or at least most known ones are.¡±


    ¡°Why? Why would someone curse you non-fatally? Was it a mala sia, or¡­¡±


    ¡°I will not answer further questions about this.¡±


    I almost wish she hadn¡¯t answered any questions at all. That would be better than giving me these tantalising hints and then going silent just as she gets to the most interesting and mysterious parts. But I¡¯m willing to bet she has very good reasons for not wanting to talk about these things.


    I pause again, thinking of a new line of enquiry. ¡°You mentioned yesterday that you once had¡­ one of those dangerous realisations about magic. Or something of that nature.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll do you the favour of assuming that you understood enough of the other things I mentioned yesterday to see why further explanation of that would be a bad idea.¡±


    I nod. Yeah, that question probably wasn¡¯t one of the best to ask. ¡°What¡¯s with the d¨¦cor?¡± I ask, gesturing at the pitch-black walls. ¡°And the¡­¡± I don¡¯t have quite the right words to describe the act she puts on, but I assume she gets my meaning.


    ¡°I happen to like the colour black.¡±


    ¡°That can¡¯t be all there is to it. There has to be a reason.¡±


    Electra smiles, very slowly, and leans back in her chair. ¡°Oh, Tallulah. You¡¯ve learnt so much this term ¨C far more than anyone had any right to expect ¨C but your perspective is still so limited.¡±


    I try not to be offended. She isn¡¯t doing this to insult me, she¡¯s doing this to make a point. I just haven¡¯t figured out what it is yet.


    ¡°You think that because a person can be supportive and helpful, because she can fight for those in her care¡­ that means she cannot simultaneously be someone who finds joy in watching others suffer?¡± Her smile is wider and stranger than I¡¯ve ever seen it. I tense. That isn¡¯t something that you just say outright like she just did.


    The light in the room flickers, and we¡¯re suddenly plunged into darkness. My heart skips a beat. She¡¯s doing this for effect. I hope she¡¯s doing this for effect.


    ¡°This is not an act, Tallulah,¡± says her voice from right beside me. Where is she? How did she ¨C


    ¡°This is who I am.¡±


    And then, before I have time to properly panic, the light flickers back to life to reveal her sitting back in her usual seat, looking as if nothing unusual has happened at all.


    Stars. I do not ever want this woman to be my enemy.

 112. Manipulation

    That¡¯s the end of my questioning. Electra doesn¡¯t say as much, but after what she just did I¡¯m no longer so convinced I even want to know everything about her. Instead we sit in silence for a while, watching each other.


    Quite a while, actually. Long enough I start to wonder where Edward has got to. His father and I talked for maybe five minutes, add another couple for getting to the meeting room and back and another few because he probably has more to say to Edward than to me¡­ that¡¯s still at most fifteen minutes.


    I glance at Electra¡¯s clock. It¡¯s made of a bright white material that¡¯s probably ivory rather than bone, though you can never be quite sure with Electra, and carved with an elegance that doesn¡¯t seem her usual style. Not that that¡¯s what I¡¯m paying attention to right now. ¡°What was the time when they left?¡± I ask.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t note it?¡±


    ¡°No. I didn¡¯t think they¡¯d take this long.¡±


    Electra shrugs. ¡°Two evident explanations occur.¡±


    I wait for her to go on, and realise after a second that she¡¯s going to make me ask. ¡°What are they?¡±


    ¡°One, Lord Blackthorn and his son have some more involved business than a simple conversation. Perhaps he is teaching Edward advanced magic, or they have travelled to a more secure location. And we were not informed because Edward did not know, and why would Lord Blackthorn think to tell us anything?¡±


    That sounds depressingly plausible. I nod.


    ¡°Two, the business was no more than a simple conversation. But Edward chose not to return once it was concluded.¡±


    But why wouldn¡¯t he ¨C


    ¡°I¡¯m not certain of why this would be the case. One possibility is that Lord Blackthorn became aware of what I did yesterday and no longer wants Edward to be taught by me. But I don¡¯t find that likely. Do you?¡±


    She¡¯s fishing for information. What Lord Blackthorn knows, what we¡¯ve told him, whether I think it¡¯s likely he¡¯d be able to figure it out. ¡°No,¡± I say, cautiously but truthfully.


    ¡°Or¡­ it occurs to me,¡± she says slowly, ¡°that were I Lord Blackthorn, and if I wanted information on a matter you refused to discuss with me¡­ the most natural thing to do would be to ask Edward to find out for me.¡±


    Stars. She¡¯s right.


    And now he knows I¡¯ve been keeping secrets from him. And I have to tell him to his face that I¡¯m not going to tell him. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I close my eyes, slow my breathing.


    ¡°I thought so,¡± Electra says. ¡°The way you reacted to my warning¡­ that wasn¡¯t a girl who would never contemplate it or thought of it as a distant hypothetical. That was a girl who knew that it could become very real very soon.¡±


    Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender. So she didn¡¯t know when she gave the warning. I just didn¡¯t hide my reaction well enough. Never mind that, though, what am I going to do? ¡°I have to find him ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I would advise you not to do so immediately. It depends on details of the situation which I don¡¯t know - unless you choose to tell me?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°Worth a try. But¡­ it¡¯s likely that his initial reaction will be strong. If you find him now, while he¡¯s still in the grip of that, I doubt that he would listen to reason. You do have reason?¡±


    I nod.


    ¡°Good. If you kept secrets from Edward without a very good reason, that would likely be irreparable. As it is, if you wait for a few hours I think he¡¯ll at least listen to you.¡±


    She says it as if it¡¯s just another lesson. As if she¡¯s not talking about my entire world at stake if I get this wrong. Because that¡¯s what this is. A lesson is less scary to think about, though. This is just a test. Maybe not one I¡¯ve prepared for, but that doesn''t mean I''m going to fail it. I just need to stay calm and think through logically.


    Edward knows that Elsie and I share a secret, one that I¡¯ve kept from him and refused to tell his father. He knows that his father wants to know that secret and isn¡¯t above using him to get it. He likely also knows that Elsie will be meeting Mildred Cavendish in a few weeks.


    I know Edward maybe better than anyone. I understand how he thinks. If I¡¯m Edward, given that information, how do I react?


    Mildred is the enemy. If Elsie is willingly choosing to talk to her, apparently to try to be friends, that makes Elsie the enemy too. Tallulah is keeping the enemy¡¯s secrets from me. (Because telling Edward is still out of the question. Much as I long to, when his father has explicitly asked¡­) Does that make Tallulah the enemy too?


    No; Tallulah can¡¯t be the enemy. Tallulah is my friend. So why isn¡¯t she telling me this? Does she not trust me? Stars, can I trust her? It¡¯s far too late to ask that question. If Tallulah is the enemy, I¡¯m as good as dead. Even a fraction of what she knows in the wrong hands would be enough to destroy me.


    I can¡¯t let that happen. I have to make sure she doesn¡¯t give away any of my secrets. I have to make her tell me everything. I have to make sure she stays loyal to me, whatever it takes.


    I blink a few times and come back to myself, disturbed by the conclusions I¡¯ve reached. That voice of Edward in my mind isn¡¯t the boy I became friends with or the one I desperately want to stay friends with.


    It¡¯s a voice that reduces the world to black and white. With him or against him. No room for shades of grey: if you show anything less than total loyalty, you have to be counted as a piece on the opposing side of the board. It¡¯s a voice of a scared boy in a world where no-one can be trusted, doing whatever he has to just to survive.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    And more than anything else, it¡¯s a voice that reminds me powerfully of Edward¡¯s father.


    Stars. Is that the core of Lord Blackthorn, then? I feel like a fool: see, at heart the monster is just a scared little kid who wants someone he can trust and rely on, not a monster at all.


    But the revelation feels instinctively right, and besides: hasn¡¯t Electra just shown me that people can be two things that seem to contradict each other?


    I find myself laughing bitterly. So that¡¯s Lord Blackthorn, then, but it doesn¡¯t help me here. Understanding Edward like this might have made the problem clear. But I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s got me any closer to a solution.


    I have to persuade him that it¡¯s not a betrayal, what I¡¯m doing. That I¡¯m keeping Elsie¡¯s secrets, just as I¡¯d keep his from anyone. That I can¡¯t tell him ¨C but I still trust him, it¡¯s just that ¨C


    Oh. ¡°Oh.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I¡¯d nearly forgotten where I was. I¡¯d definitely forgotten that Electra was sitting there watching me.


    ¡°I just realised something,¡± I say. And I am not telling Electra what it is. It wouldn¡¯t surprise me if she knew Edward well enough to figure it out herself, but if that¡¯s not the case then I don¡¯t want to help her.


    ¡°Something helpful, I hope?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± I still want to run to Edward right now and try to explain, but Electra is right. If I find him when he¡¯s in the state I imagine, he won¡¯t be able to listen to me. There¡¯s also the question of what if he doesn¡¯t want to be found? I have no doubt he has multiple places he could hide in the Academy where I couldn¡¯t get to him.


    It feels so wrong to not go after him, to sit and do something else while he¡¯s suffering alone. I hate myself a little. But he needs that space more than he needs me, right now. It¡¯s what¡¯s best for us both.


    And yet I can¡¯t just go and sit in the dormitory and read or go looking for Elizabeth or Robin with that knowledge in the back of my mind. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t look for Edward for another few hours, then?¡±


    ¡°That is what I would advise.¡±


    ¡°Then¡­ can I stay here? Can you keep teaching me? It¡¯s just ¨C ¡° an attack of nerves makes me keep talking ¨C ¡°it would be hard for me to distract myself, and ¨C ¡°


    That was a mistake. Electra gives me another of her evil smiles. ¡°Oh, yes. I think I could distract you very thoroughly.¡±


    ¡°Preferably without torture being involved,¡± I add hastily.


    ¡°Fine¡­¡± She sounds more like a petulant toddler than I thought she was capable of sounding. ¡°I¡¯m a little unsure what to teach you, though.¡±


    I can¡¯t even summon up the energy to care that she doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m good enough without the flow-state anomaly.


    ¡°You know enough combat magic by now to be able to defend yourself against any non-magical attackers without need of¡­ whatever you and Edward did. Teaching you more will have to wait until I have found alternate teaching methods which will not involve that occurring again. And it is highly, highly illegal to teach teleportation to unqualified magicians, and with good reason.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°That¡¯s still ruling out vast areas of magic.¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t think it would be productive to teach you.¡±


    I do have the energy to care about that, at least, and it shows on my face.


    ¡°You could be a great magician, Tallulah. I didn¡¯t grow up with magic either ¨C I was nearly eighteen when I became a magician ¨C and still, here I am. Just because you¡¯re not Edward doesn¡¯t make you not significantly better than average for your age and experience. And it definitely doesn¡¯t mean you don¡¯t have potential.¡±


    Part of me thrills at the validation of those words, but I¡¯m mostly just confused. ¡°Then why¡­¡±


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t think becoming a great magician is what you need. Or what you want.¡±


    She knows far too much about me, understands me far too well. Tells me so many things I already know but just don¡¯t quite want to admit. ¡°But Edward ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward wants you to be a great magician, because it¡¯s what he wants for himself. But he doesn¡¯t need a great magician for his closest companion. Even if you want to shape yourself into what he needs ¨C which I would be very careful about, incidentally ¨C magic is not the way to go.¡±


    I¡¯m not sure what I want to shape myself into. I haven¡¯t thought much about the future since Falling ¨C it took me so long to realise I even had one, and then the present has had more than enough to keep me occupied since. ¡°What does he need, then?¡± I ask. Out of curiosity, nothing more.


    ¡°Lord Blackthorn,¡± Electra says instead of giving me a direct answer, ¡°is a politician. He has an extremely unusual style of politics, yes, but he makes it work. For all he claims to disdain tradition and convention, he understands it well enough to use it for his own ends. He knows how to earn people¡¯s loyalty, how to make what he needs happen.¡±


    I think I see where she¡¯s going with this, and I¡¯m not sure I like it. ¡°Edward doesn¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°He just wants to be a magician. But being a Blackthorn, being a Royal Magician¡­ that¡¯s inevitably going to need some amount of politics.¡±


    Electra nods.


    ¡°Which you think he wouldn¡¯t be good at.¡± I can see why she¡¯d get to that conclusion, to be fair. ¡°And¡­ you think I would.¡± That part I¡¯m more sceptical about.


    ¡°Precisely. And I am not the best choice of teacher when it comes to politics. If you wanted one, I¡¯d advise going through Lord Blackthorn¡¯s contacts ¨C ¡° her lips twitch in amusement at my disgusted look. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean I have nothing to offer here.¡±


    The idea of becoming a politician, becoming the person Edward needs by his side, doesn¡¯t horrify me as much as it once would have. I want to change things, don¡¯t I? Isn¡¯t that the way to make it happen?


    ¡°What,¡± I say carefully, ¡°exactly, are you offering?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve probably realised by now that I understand people. In general, and individuals in particular. Knowing how someone thinks, knowing what they want means that you can predict how they will act, and how you can influence their actions.¡±


    Manipulating people. Finding ways to make sure they do what you want. Part of me is instinctively repelled by it, and yet¡­ isn¡¯t that what I¡¯ve been doing already? Isn¡¯t that where my success has come from?


    With Lord Blackthorn, both in the riot and then just now, I found the lines he wasn¡¯t prepared to cross and used them to my advantage. I worked with the headmaster to tell my story to the world, convinced him that I was a reasonable person and that my way of doing things could work.


    And it¡¯s been the way I think about problems for a lot longer than that. ¡°The best way to understand someone¡¯s actions,¡± I murmur, ¡°is first to understand their motivations.¡±


    Electra studies me curiously for a moment. ¡°Where did you get that line from?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C my history teacher. At Genford. It was one of the phrases she liked to use.¡±


    ¡°Miss Jenkins?¡±


    ¡°You know about her?¡±


    ¡°Let¡¯s consider that Lesson One,¡± Electra replies. ¡°Always do your research on a person before walking into the same room as them.¡±


    She¡¯d researched me before sitting down in that hospital chair that day? I knew she understood at least the basics of my situation, but that sounds as if she did a much more thorough job than just glancing over a file or two.


    And then she put that knowledge to use in our conversations. How many of the decisions I¡¯ve made since then have been influenced by her? My mind flicks back through all our early interactions, everything she said and did, with this new context. And then it hits me.


    The knives, that first day. And something Elizabeth said once, when we were talking about her: it reminded her of Army officers, making themselves into the enemy. Giving the soldiers under their command a common enemy to unite against. And she must have known Edward well enough even then to know how difficult it would be for him to break through his natural distrust to form a connection with me ¨C without something placing us on the same side.


    Stars. ¡°You manipulated me and Edward into becoming friends.¡±

 113. Emptiness

    Electra laughs. ¡°I didn¡¯t expect you to work it out so soon. If you¡¯re going to tell Edward, I¡¯d advise not doing it just yet.¡±


    It takes me a second to realise why: if Edward is questioning whether he can trust me, then finding out that the whole reason we¡¯re friends is because of Electra will not help my cause at all. ¡°Why?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I thought it would help you both to have each other. It worked somewhat better than I was expecting.¡±


    I imagine the last few months without Edward to help me get through them and know that she¡¯s right. And then I remember that without Edward as my friend most of it wouldn¡¯t have happened in the first place, and suddenly I¡¯m angry at Electra.


    Setting aside the part where it¡¯s morally wrong to do that even for the good of the people you¡¯re manipulating¡­ becoming friends with Edward Blackthorn isn¡¯t something you can just do without consequences. I didn¡¯t know that at the time ¨C stars, I didn¡¯t even know who he was at first ¨C but Electra did.


    I wouldn¡¯t change it if I had the chance, but knowing that it wasn¡¯t just fate or happenstance that brought us together¡­ no-one else has the right to make that sort of decision for me.


    I look at the woman across the desk from me as if I¡¯m seeing her for the first time. She¡¯s helped me immeasurably. I don¡¯t know if I could have made it this far without her. And she still has so much more to offer me. But.


    The comparison to my mother that springs into my mind isn¡¯t a fair one. My mother had an idea of what she wanted me to be and ignored the reality of what I was in her effort to shape me into a successful and well-connected young lawyer. Electra has never done that.


    Unless she¡¯s just far better at it than my mother could ever hope to be. It took me this long to see even this one fragment of what she¡¯s really been doing. How do I know that she hasn¡¯t been subtly influencing me all this time?


    But then isn¡¯t it the role of a teacher to influence their students? To guide them and help them? I don¡¯t know where the line should be drawn, but I know Electra crossed it that first day. And I might be learning fast, but I still don¡¯t have a hope of working out whether she¡¯s been crossing it since.


    ¡°What do you want from me?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Electra replies immediately.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°Why ask, then? If I hypothetically had a grand scheme which involved you which I had not already told you about, do you think asking would make me reveal it to you?¡±


    No. No, I don¡¯t. She¡¯s right. It was a stupid question. So what¡¯s a better one? ¡°Is that the only time you¡¯ve manipulated me?¡±


    ¡°That depends on how you¡¯re defining manipulation.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to play word games.¡±


    She shakes her head. ¡°It¡¯s not a word game. It¡¯s the essence of what you¡¯re asking. For instance: you are currently planning how to manipulate Edward into continuing to trust you and be your friend.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m ¨C ¡° I begin, but once again I find myself unable to deny her words. ¡°That¡¯s not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Choosing your words and your actions to create the impression you want, to cause other people to act and feel the way you want. That¡¯s what you¡¯re doing, isn¡¯t it? It¡¯s what everyone does. I¡¯m just more aware of it than most, and better at it than most.¡±


    I never thought I¡¯d find myself hating how reasonable Electra sounds. But then, she can sound reasonable when she wants to, can¡¯t she? I don¡¯t know what to think. I¡¯m second-guessing everything.


    I feel suddenly alone.


    And I¡¯m not going to sit here with this woman any longer. Not when my friend needs me. I get to my feet. ¡°I am going to find Edward,¡± I say.


    ¡°Are you sure that is wise?¡±


    No. But it¡¯s what I need to do. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Then go,¡± says Electra, ¡°and good luck.¡± She sounds like she means it. I¡¯m not sure that means much, when it comes to her.


    So I go.


    I was right earlier: Edward can be hard to find when he wants to be. I check all our usual haunts and don¡¯t see him. Eventually I make it as far as the library, where I¡¯m relieved to see Rosie on duty. She grimaces as she sees me approaching, though.


    ¡°Tallulah. Looking for Edward, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes. Do you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°He asked me not to tell you.¡±


    I flinch.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    There¡¯s an air of finality to those words. I can¡¯t persuade her to tell me. ¡°Did he ¨C leave a message? Did he say anything else? Was he okay?¡±


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    ¡°I don¡¯t think he was okay, no. It was¡­ he reminded me of his father preparing for a crisis.¡±


    ¡°What¡­ sort of crisis?¡±


    ¡°He made it sound as if you had betrayed him.¡± She pauses, and then asks: ¡°Have you?¡±


    Her voice is mild, deceptively mild, and her gaze is more intense than I¡¯ve seen it before. I¡¯ve never thought of her as scary before now, but I¡¯m reminded suddenly that she is, after all, a Blackthorn. And the Blackthorns take care of their own.


    ¡°No,¡± I say. ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Was he misinformed? I don¡¯t think ¨C ¡°


    I grimace. ¡°I¡­ kept ¨C am keeping ¨C a secret from him. It¡¯s not something that should concern him, but if he became aware of it ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I see,¡± Rosie says coldly.


    ¡°It¡¯s not something I can tell him, but ¨C I¡¯d never betray him. You know that, don¡¯t you?¡± I hate the pleading note in my voice.


    ¡°He needs complete loyalty,¡± is all Rosie says.


    And I can¡¯t give it to him, is the subtext there. I¡¯m not convinced she¡¯s wrong, either. Isn¡¯t this whole affair proof of exactly that?


    I pause, thinking. Trying to decide my next move. I don¡¯t think I can find Edward if he doesn¡¯t want to be found. Even if I knew exactly where he was¡­ if he¡¯s just gone home a few days early, I do not have a hope of getting into Blackthorn Manor uninvited.


    ¡°If you see him,¡± I say, ¡°if he asks¡­ tell him that I haven¡¯t betrayed him. That I¡¯m ¨C ¡° sorry, I want to say, but I¡¯m not really. I¡¯m not doing anything wrong by keeping Elsie¡¯s secret. Not according to my own definition of what¡¯s wrong, anyway.


    ¡°That I¡¯m still his friend,¡± I continue instead. ¡°Always will be. And¡­ I want to talk to him.¡±


    Rosie nods. ¡°I can do that.¡±


    And then¡­ nothing. I don¡¯t know what to do. Edward is hiding from me. I¡¯m not going back to Electra. I don¡¯t dare experiment with my newly discovered powers alone. Elsie has left. Robin is caught up in magical theory and Elizabeth in searching for a place to stay. Hannah, Aisha and Lucy are all home for the holidays as well.


    I used to think I was self-sufficient. That I didn¡¯t need the company of others. I used to be able to work or rest alone. Or maybe that was just another lie I told myself back when I was at Genford.


    I did it once, though. I can do it again. I just need¡­ I need a purpose. A project. Something to keep my mind occupied so it doesn¡¯t dwell on everything that¡¯s brought me to this point. So much has changed in the last few days and months, and yet in other ways nothing at all has changed.


    I¡¯m missing the structure of lessons, as well. Even on the worst of days this term I¡¯ve had to drag myself out of bed and learn magic. Now I don¡¯t have even that routine obligation.


    I find an empty study room and start working through my holiday homework. There isn¡¯t much of it from most of our teachers; they want us to enjoy Holy Days and aren¡¯t going to burden us with work in a time that¡¯s meant to be for contemplation and celebration.


    I¡¯m halfway through a fiddly Magical Theory calculation when I glance at the time and realise that I should probably eat lunch. It¡¯s an effort to make myself do it. Eating on my own feels instinctively wrong now, even though I used to do it all the time at Genford.


    I don¡¯t eat alone, technically. Robin is present, even if her mind is elsewhere. The first thing she asks me is whether I¡¯ve seen Edward; she¡¯s had some sort of breakthrough with the magical theory thing she¡¯s working on and is excited to share it with him. I have to explain that no, I haven¡¯t seen him for a couple of hours. The last time I saw him was when his father took him away for a conversation.


    Robin grimaces. ¡°I bet he¡¯s doing some special secret Blackthorn thing.¡±


    I do my best to look sympathetic and pretend that¡¯s the only possibility. ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll be back soon.¡±


    I hope he¡¯ll be back soon. I eat quickly and return to the study room. It¡¯s easier than I thought it would be to lose myself in work. I finish Magical Theory, Enchantments and Spells over the course of the afternoon, not bothering to take breaks. Good progress.


    Still no Edward at dinner, though I stay for the full hour the dining hall is open. Robin and Elizabeth both join me, but there isn¡¯t much conversation. They¡¯re both too caught up in their own problems to notice mine. I think Elsie would notice if she were here, but she¡¯s not.


    In a way, I¡¯m relieved. This isn¡¯t a problem I can share with anyone.


    I wonder what Edward is eating. Is he at home being treated to his family chef¡¯s flawless cooking? Is he tucked away in his room with a stash of siege rations he always keeps there? Or is he just¡­ not eating at all? Stars, I hope that¡¯s wrong. But it wouldn¡¯t shock me if I were right.


    Maybe I should look for him. Just¡­ sit outside his door and refuse to move until he talks to me? Would that work? It might, or it might make things worse. I should wait until he¡¯s ready, but how long will that take? What if it¡¯s not until after I¡¯ve gone home?


    I return to studying. Alchemy is done, it doesn¡¯t take long, and then I decide it¡¯s dark enough that I can work on the practical component of Astronomy. I wrap myself in my coat, gather my things, and set off outside.


    I don¡¯t bother going far. I just sit on the steps and stare up at the stars. Wonder if they¡¯re watching me back. I can no longer deny that I¡¯m someone they might take an interest in, if they take interest in mortal affairs at all. Do they know the truth about my powers? Do they know how horribly empty I¡¯m feeling right now? Do they care?


    My hands move without conscious thought, sketching out the patterns of the constellations as our assignment says I must. Not all of the Holy Day constellations have appeared in the sky yet, but the Ship is clearly visible, and the Bird. My constellation, the one I was born under. I¡¯ve never felt a particular attachment to it, though a lot of people do find meaning in their birth-stars.


    Are the constellations real in some cosmic sense, or are they just patterns people defined long ago in an attempt to bring meaning and order to the chaos of the sky? I wish that I could believe in the way Elsie does, even in the way Mildred does. That I could take comfort in the knowledge that all of this is for some higher purpose.


    I can¡¯t, so I just finish my sketches. It¡¯s a struggle towards the end, my hands beginning to turn numb with cold. I know warming spells now, but I don¡¯t cast one. There¡¯s something almost refreshing about the sharp clarity of the cold. I know that denying myself comfort isn¡¯t going to help anything, but it feels right.


    My fingers obey my orders well enough to plot the last few stars, and then I pack my things away and stand to go. And I hear a muffled noise: someone crying out? I tense. It¡¯s quiet, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s coming from far away. ¡°Is anyone there?¡± I call. I set my bag down and cup my hands together to hold a light-spell.


    The magic comes easily, to my surprise. I turn around, letting the light spread out across the gardens, hoping it¡¯ll illuminate something. It doesn¡¯t.


    Which is what helps me notice it. There¡¯s a certain way it plays out across the darkness, a certain way the pattern of light and shadow fits together. Except in one place: the corner of the steps, just a couple of metres away from where I was sitting, where the darkness remains stubbornly dark no matter how I shine the light.


    I know enough of wards and illusions to realise the implications of that. Someone has laid a veil or a concealment ward over that location. Why? Have they been watching me? What do they want? Am I in danger?


    Before I have time to work out my next move, the spell falls away, revealing a small boy about my age in scarlet magician¡¯s robes sitting there, staring out into the darkness and hugging his knees. Slowly, he turns to face me.


    ¡°Hello, Tallulah,¡± says Edward.

 114. Confrontation

    I just stand there and blink at him. He¡¯s been watching me ¨C how long ¨C why ¨C I know I wanted to talk to him, but I¡¯m not ready ¨C


    ¡°Hello, Edward,¡± I reply, my voice sounding a lot calmer than I feel.


    ¡°Working on Astronomy homework?¡±


    He wants to talk about homework? Now? I want to just make him talk about what we really need to talk about, but I remember Electra¡¯s advice and decide against it. Right. Homework it is. ¡°Yes. I just finished making the observations we were asked to make.¡±


    ¡°I was working on them as well,¡± he says. I can¡¯t see any of his things, though. Then again I wouldn¡¯t put it past him to conceal them with another veil or ward if he deemed it necessary.


    I almost flinch at that last thought. ¡°How did you find them?¡±


    ¡°Not sufficiently complex to be interesting.¡±


    That¡¯s a very Edward way of putting it, but he¡¯s not wrong. It was a mindless task. I appreciated that, in my current mood, but I think Edward would want something that actually interested him.


    Stars, I don¡¯t know if I can manage this awkward small talk for much longer. ¡°How long have you been sitting there?¡± I ask. It¡¯s reasonably neutral while also drawing closer to more important things.


    ¡°Longer than you.¡±


    I think I would have noticed his arrival; I wasn¡¯t sufficiently focused to lose track of my surroundings, and I don¡¯t think he¡¯s a good enough magician to manage something that could be described as true invisibility just yet. So it makes sense that he was here before I was. ¡°Why were you hiding?¡± I risk next.


    ¡°Because I didn¡¯t want to be seen.¡±


    That doesn¡¯t give me anything to work with. I wonder whether I should apologise for realising there was someone hidden, but I didn¡¯t do anything wrong ¨C not then, at least. Was he deliberately trying to attract my attention when he made that noise, or was it involuntary?


    ¡°Have you eaten?¡± I ask next. Still dancing around the topics he clearly doesn¡¯t want to discuss, but at least checking whether he¡¯s okay.


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t see you at dinner.¡±


    ¡°I ordered a meal to be sent to my room.¡±


    ¡°¡­you can do that?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°It¡¯s a privilege traditionally given to the Academy¡¯s noble-born students, along with private rooms. I have been strongly discouraged from using it too often, though.¡±


    Of course he gets special privileges. It shouldn¡¯t surprise me. But at least he¡¯s eaten. At least he¡¯s looking after himself. I laugh bitterly. He can look after himself, even when he¡¯s suffering. Hadn¡¯t he just survived a traumatic experience when we first met?


    He doesn¡¯t fall apart whenever a crisis comes along. Not like I do. He¡¯s fine.


    ¡°Tallulah? What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± I choke out. ¡°Just ¨C of course you¡¯re okay.¡±


    ¡°Of course I¡¯m not,¡± he spits back immediately. ¡°How could I be, after you ¨C ¡°


    This is it, then. All my carefully laid plans for this conversation are distant memories. ¡°Say it. Go on.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t say it. ¡°Tallulah, I ¨C ¡° He stops again. ¡°You know she agreed to meet with Mildred?¡±


    I nod. ¡°She wouldn¡¯t ¨C choose Mildred over us. I know she wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Over you,¡± Edward corrects.


    He¡¯s not wrong. Elsie is my friend, not Edward¡¯s. But it¡¯s not to the extent he thinks. Can I tell him that Elsie avoiding him is related to her secret, or would that give him too much of a clue? It¡¯s probably best not to, much as it hurts.


    ¡°That¡¯s effectively the same thing,¡± I say instead. ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡±


    He doesn¡¯t answer for a short while. My heart sinks. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± he says finally. ¡°You tell me.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± I say. ¡°Of course it is. You know I would never ¨C ¡°


    ¡°And yet you¡¯re keeping secrets from me.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not my secret to share. I can¡¯t keep your secrets and share Elsie¡¯s. She deserves better than that.¡±


    He grimaces. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t tell anyone.¡±


    ¡°Your father asked you to extract the information from me, didn¡¯t he?¡±


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    Edward¡¯s grim smile is enough of an answer. ¡°I still wouldn¡¯t tell him. Not unless it¡¯s something obviously significant to national security.¡±


    Such as, for instance, my friend secretly being an oracle. I consider trying to play a game of hypotheticals to find out if that is in fact covered, but it¡¯s too late.


    ¡°¡­it is, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I consider lying for a second, and then realise that that would be a terrible mistake and also that I¡¯ve hesitated for too long. I let my silence answer.


    ¡°¡­dammit, Tallulah. You can¡¯t let something like that stay secret.¡±


    Not if I want to be his friend. Not if I want him to trust me.


    This is my impossible choice, then.


    No. No, it can¡¯t be. I won¡¯t let it be. There has to be some other way. There has to be a solution to the problem which doesn¡¯t end with me betraying either Elsie or Edward.


    ¡°What if,¡± I say very carefully, ¡°your father knowing about this would ruin Elsie¡¯s life irreparably?¡±


    He tenses. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Tallulah. But ¨C the country¡¯s interests have to come above those of any individual.¡±


    ¡°Would you feel the same if it were my life at stake?¡±


    This time he flinches. ¡°That¡¯s ¨C why are we having this conversation in public?¡±


    It¡¯s an attempt at deflection, but it¡¯s also a valid point. Even if I doubt anyone decided to follow one of us out here to listen to a conversation they didn¡¯t even know would be happening. ¡°Meeting room, then?¡±


    ¡°Meeting room,¡± Edward agrees. He produces his bag from a shadowy corner and we set off inside. And I can almost pretend things are normal between us.


    Almost.


    We don¡¯t speak again until we¡¯ve made it to the meeting room and Edward has chalked the usual set of privacy wards. Then he says slowly ¡°If it were you¡­ I¡¯d do everything possible to find a way to get through it with your life intact and no threat to the country¡¯s security.¡±


    And he wouldn¡¯t do that for Elsie. Because she doesn¡¯t matter to him, not in the way I do. I have to choke down my anger at that thought. It¡¯s not helpful here. ¡°This isn¡¯t Elsie¡¯s fault,¡± I say carefully. ¡°And¡­ if it stayed secret, it wouldn¡¯t ever be a threat to the country¡¯s interests, or your father¡¯s.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, and I can decide that for myself.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t trust me to decide?¡±


    ¡°And you don¡¯t trust me not to tell my father regardless.¡±


    I don¡¯t try to deny it. The silence hangs heavily in the air between us.


    I think about telling him. Elsie is an oracle. I thought I¡¯d be tempted, but I¡¯m not. I think because he¡¯s being so open about what he would do. I hoped before that he wouldn¡¯t tell his father, that he could keep this secret for me and for Elsie, but he¡¯s made it clear that isn¡¯t the case.


    ¡°What,¡± he asks, ¡°do we do now?¡±


    I don¡¯t know, Edward. ¡°I can¡¯t tell you,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but I can¡¯t. I would¡­ I would appreciate it, and so would Elsie, if you tell your father that it¡¯s not important.¡±


    ¡°You want me to lie to my father,¡± Edward says. ¡°About something that could be important.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one who insisted on not telling him about what we can do.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s different.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡± I know the answer. I don¡¯t know why I want to hear him say it.


    ¡°Because it¡¯s the two of us,¡± he says, as I expected.


    Because we¡¯re worth more than Elsie. Because she doesn¡¯t matter in the same way we do. I instinctively hate that way of viewing the world. And yet my best friend whole-heartedly believes it, and I don¡¯t think I could persuade him that he¡¯s wrong.


    ¡°Elsie matters to me,¡± I say instead.


    ¡°As much as I do?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C that¡¯s not a fair question.¡±


    ¡°Answer it.¡±


    I want to refuse. It isn¡¯t a question he has any right to ask. It isn¡¯t a question anyone should have to answer. But the look in his eyes stops me; he needs to hear my answer. ¡°No,¡± I whisper.


    ¡°If it came to a choice between the two of us¡­¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t let this come to that. Please. It doesn¡¯t have to be that way.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s your alternative? I lie to my father, and then¡­ what? That¡¯s the end of it?¡±


    That¡¯s what I¡¯d been hoping, but it sounds dangerously na?ve coming from Edward¡¯s sceptical mouth. ¡°Yes,¡± I say nonetheless.


    ¡°And ¨C even if it¡¯s not a threat now, can you be certain it will never become one?¡±


    Can I be certain that Elsie would never use her power against the interests of Lord Blackthorn and the country he serves? No. No, I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t even be certain that I would never act against those interests.


    And what would happen to Edward and I, if that came to pass? Would he be the one forced to choose between me and his father?


    ¡°No,¡± I say slowly. ¡°Not certain. But I doubt it would happen.¡±


    ¡°If you ever had reason to believe it was happening,¡± Edward says, ¡°would you tell me?¡±


    I close my eyes and imagine that conflict playing out. I don¡¯t know what I¡¯d do. So much depends on the exact circumstances. On whether Lord Blackthorn is on the right side of this conflict, whether Elsie is on the wrong side. On whether I can even tell the difference between right and wrong.


    ¡°If I thought it necessary, I would.¡± I¡¯m not quite giving him what he wants, and he knows that. But I think he also knows it¡¯s all he¡¯s going to get.


    I pray that it¡¯s enough.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that you and I have the same definition of necessary.¡±


    I¡¯m sure that we don¡¯t. I say nothing.


    Edward sighs. ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡° His voice cracks a little. ¡°I want to help you, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Please,¡± I say. ¡°Please, Edward.¡±


    He hesitates. ¡°Don¡¯t make me regret this. Please.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I say. ¡°I promise I won¡¯t.¡±


    It¡¯s a victory, but it doesn¡¯t feel like one. Because I can see how conflicted he is. Because I think it¡¯s clear to us both now: despite what I said earlier, our interests aren¡¯t always going to be the same. We¡¯ve both lost something subtle but precious today, and I don¡¯t know if we can ever get it back.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°For what?¡± I ask, thinking for a second that he¡¯s about to go back on his promise.


    ¡°For not being able to give you what you want. For disappearing all day. For watching you from behind a veil.¡±


    I shake my head. ¡°Don¡¯t be sorry for that. If that¡¯s what you needed¡­ how did you end up watching me, anyway?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I was in my room earlier. Working on some magical exercises, the usual. After I¡¯d eaten I needed to get out, so I did my Astronomy homework. Only as I was working on it, I heard someone coming and I didn¡¯t want to talk to anyone, so I cast a veil. I didn¡¯t know it was you until it was too late to leave without being noticed.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t say that he wanted to avoid me in particular. I¡¯m grateful for that, even though I know it was the case. ¡°So you sat and watched me.¡±


    ¡°Yes. It was a good exercise in simultaneous casting, maintaining the veil and a warming spell together.¡± Because of course he was doing that rather than inflicting suffering on himself. And of course he cared about things like that even then. ¡°I didn¡¯t mean to make a noise when you were leaving. I shouldn¡¯t have.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you did,¡± I say.


    ¡°So am I. That¡¯s what I¡¯ve been doing today, then; what about you?¡±


    ¡°I talked to Electra,¡± I say. ¡°She answered some of my questions.¡±


    ¡°About¡­¡± he says, his eyes lighting up with interest.


    ¡°Herself.¡± And I tell him the pieces of the Electra mystery that I¡¯ve discovered.

 115. Preparations

    As a way to repair our friendship, it¡¯s an effective one. Putting together the pieces of an important mystery together, clarifying details and suggesting ideas¡­ or maybe it isn¡¯t repairing anything, it¡¯s just helping us ignore the gaping holes.


    Regardless, I try to focus on it and ignore the growing sense of loss.


    ¡°Mysterious lost brother,¡± Edward says, as much to himself as to me. ¡°Did she give any indication of ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± I repeat for what must be at least the fifth time. ¡°But I can¡¯t imagine it would have been amicable. She didn¡¯t sound as if she particularly cared what he was doing now.¡±


    ¡°This is Electra we¡¯re talking about,¡± he points out. ¡°For all we know, she cries herself to sleep every night when no-one¡¯s there to see.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s likely?¡± I ask. It¡¯s an absurd image: a grown woman in black pyjamas, hugging a pillow with throwing-knives stuffed into it and sobbing desperately.


    ¡°No,¡± he admits. ¡°But you see my point?¡±


    I do: we can¡¯t use my judgement about her emotions as reliable evidence.


    ¡°For that matter,¡± he goes on, ¡°how do we know this isn¡¯t all a pack of lies?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°What would be the point? And besides, she¡¯s never lied to us. Concealed information, yes, but¡­¡±


    ¡°The point? To give an untrue picture of her intentions. To build trust ¨C revealing secrets tends to do that. And the most valuable thing any liar can have is to be seen as someone who doesn¡¯t lie.¡±


    I grimace. He raises some good points, but my instinct says she¡¯s telling the truth. And I trust my instinct, for some mad reason. ¡°Is there some way we could verify her story?¡±


    ¡°Service records of the mala sia taskforce are public,¡± Edward says. ¡°I could probably check that much within a few days. I still can¡¯t understand this whole curse thing, though. She would have died anyway, most likely, if she¡¯d stayed with them long enough. Being cursed might well have saved her life.¡±


    ¡°What if,¡± I say, an idea occurring to me, ¡°that was the intention?¡±


    ¡°Cursing someone to save their life? That¡­ it¡¯s not impossible, but who ¨C ¡°


    ¡°The brother,¡± I say, inspiration striking once more. ¡°It would have to be someone who cared about her but couldn¡¯t talk her out of risking her life, who was sufficiently desperate. And it would explain why she cut him out of her life.¡± Because even if it was to save her life, taking away her agency was unforgiveable to Electra.


    ¡°I could see that,¡± Edward replies. ¡°You¡¯re making a lot of assumptions to get there, though.¡±


    I am. There could be all sorts of things Electra¡¯s not telling me that make it impossible to get to the truth. It fits together, though.


    We keep trying ideas for a while longer, but there are no new realisations. Eventually we drift into a silence more awkward than I¡¯m used to.


    ¡°She¡¯ll be furious with me,¡± Edward says. ¡°For skipping her lesson.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± I say. ¡°Me too. I¡­ may or may not have stormed out because I was scared of her manipulating me.¡±


    ¡°¡­and that¡¯s different from normal because¡­?¡±


    She advised me not to tell Edward just yet, because it would make him trust me less. I don¡¯t feel particularly inclined to listen to her advice right now. ¡°She manipulated us into becoming friends.¡±


    Edward blinks. ¡°Of course she did,¡± he says flatly. And then again: ¡°Of course she did. How did I not realise?¡±


    I laugh. ¡°At a guess? You¡¯d just survived a traumatic experience, and your teacher was threatening you with literal knives.¡±


    ¡°Which is exactly when I need to be most alert to that sort of thing.¡±


    I stop laughing. ¡°Edward. You can¡¯t reasonably expect ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I know. I don¡¯t get to confine myself to reasonable expectations, Tallulah.¡±


    He doesn¡¯t even sound bitter about it. That¡¯s just a fact of life for him. And what can I do against that?


    ¡°It shouldn¡¯t be that way,¡± I say half-heartedly.


    ¡°But it is. So I have to deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I say, ¡°I¡¯m glad you didn¡¯t notice what Electra was doing.¡± Because if he had, he would have never trusted me. Because then we would never have become friends. I don¡¯t realise until I say it how badly I need him to say that he is, too.


    ¡°So am I,¡± he says, but only after hesitating.


    By unspoken mutual agreement, we part ways after that. I end up reading a few more pages of A History of the Kings of Rasin. Well, it was supposed to be a few pages. In the end I make it through another hundred years of history, and only Robin poking her head through my curtains before sleeping saves me from accidentally staying up until midnight again.


    The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    The next day is that of the election. It seems like it¡¯s been a long time coming. I come down for breakfast at the usual way-too-early time to find the main stairway a hive of activity: the Academy is being used as a polling station, and there is a lot of setup work to be done.


    Various of the teachers and researchers have been conscripted to deal with making sure the necessary wards are in place to keep the stream of Inner City residents coming to vote and the Academy¡¯s population as separate as reasonably possible. I pass several of them muttering under their breath about the election officers¡¯ lack of understanding of the basic principles and woeful disorganisation.


    I¡¯m dismayed to find the cafeteria has also been taken over; breakfast is being served to everyone who¡¯s working. I feel a little bad about it ¨C they need to eat, after all ¨C but this familiar room being filled with strangers is unpleasant. A pair of them have even taken our usual seats.


    I shuffle through the queue, collect my usual bowl of porridge, and look around in vain for company. Elsie is gone, though, and Elizabeth and Robin are sensible enough to still be in bed. And Edward just¡­ isn¡¯t here.


    He probably knew about this, decided he didn¡¯t want to deal with this roomful of strangers, and ordered breakfast to be sent to his room. And he didn¡¯t tell me about it. I guess he probably had a lot on his mind yesterday, and so did I. It still hurts a little.


    I resign myself to eating breakfast alone and as quickly as possible and set off for the emptiest corner I can find.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± a voice says. I ignore it and keep walking, hoping it¡¯s not talking to me. ¡°Excuse me, are you Tallulah Roberts?¡±


    Oh. No such luck, then. I consider denying it, but there¡¯s no point really. ¡°Yes. I just want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°The Tallulah Roberts? The girl who¡­¡±


    I don¡¯t want to deal with this. Not now. Not ever. Just get breakfast and get out of here. That¡¯s all I have to do. But there¡¯s suddenly a crowd of curious people staring in my direction, and the woman who spoke first is blocking my path. ¡°Yes,¡± I snap, and weave around her to the nearest chair.


    They don¡¯t leave me alone, even though it¡¯s pretty obvious from the way I¡¯m ignoring them and furiously shovelling porridge that I don¡¯t want to talk to anyone. Two of them sit down on either side of me. ¡°Tallulah, forgive me for imposing, but I have to ask¡­¡±


    No. You don¡¯t have to. You¡¯re curious, and you see me as a story rather than a person. Go away. Please.


    ¡°What has the Black Raven done to you?¡±


    ¡°Is his son mala sia?¡±


    ¡°Does Lord Blackthorn approve of your relationship with his son?¡±


    ¡°What are the Blackthorns like in person?¡±


    I lose track of the questions after the first few. I don¡¯t acknowledge any of them. I feel as if I should be making some grand speech persuading them that Edward is a good person and by no means a monster, and that while I can¡¯t say the same for his father he¡¯s at least not as evil as some of the rumours make out. Or just telling them to shut up and leave me alone.


    Instead I just keep eating porridge, shutting out everything else. After a while even the food begins to take on a distant quality: I barely taste it, it¡¯s not quite real.


    Ah. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. Thankfully the questions have mostly ceased now people have realised I¡¯m not going to answer them, but they¡¯ve been replaced with snide comments that they must think are subtle.


    Ignore them, ignore them, ignore them. Thomas the Defender. Eleanor the Bold. Keep scooping porridge. Keep breathing. It¡¯s working, at least I think it is, and then suddenly I¡¯m scraping round the edge of the bowl for the last morsels.


    I swallow the last spoonful mechanically and stand to leave.


    ¡°You think you¡¯re better than us, don¡¯t you?¡± a man asks.


    ¡°I ¨C what?¡± I¡¯m startled and confused enough that I forget to ignore him.


    ¡°Acting all high and mighty, not bothering to acknowledge that people are trying to talk to you ¨C ¡°


    It feels like he¡¯s punched me in the face. If you throw away the context and have no knowledge of what I¡¯m thinking, he¡¯s not wrong. But that was never my intention. I don¡¯t want ¨C I can¡¯t ¨C


    Timothy the Peacemaker. Maria the Seafarer.


    ¡°See ¨C you¡¯re doing it again ¨C I suppose I shouldn¡¯t have expected anything more of a girl who consorts with the starry Blackthorns ¨C ¡°


    If he doesn¡¯t shut up I¡¯m going to punch him in the face. That, or have an active episode. ¡°I just want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Good morning, sir. Is there something we can help you with?¡± Stars, I¡¯ve never been more relieved to hear Electra¡¯s voice. ¡°Because I¡¯m sure you¡¯re quite busy making preparations for polls to open in only one and a half hours, and I would hate for anything to delay them. Wouldn¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C what are you implying?¡± the man stutters.


    Electra graces him with another of her smiles. ¡°Nothing at all. I¡¯m sure we all just want to finish eating and go about our days, don¡¯t we?¡±


    It¡¯s refreshing to see her Electra-ness directed at someone who (probably) deserves it for once. I find myself almost jealous of how easily she makes the man wilt and everyone around him shuffle several steps backwards.


    He doesn¡¯t give in that easily, though: ¡°What business is it of yours, anyway? Miss Roberts and I were just having a conversation.¡±


    Electra raises her eyebrows. ¡°Oh? It seems I have misinterpreted the situation. As I saw it, you accosted her and insulted her as she was trying to leave. But that was obviously wrong, in hindsight, because surely you are not so immensely foolish as to anger a girl with such powerful connections as she has.¡±


    That is sufficient to finish off whatever courage he has; he stammers something incoherent and slinks away, leaving me alone with Electra.


    ¡°Thanks,¡± I say.


    ¡°You¡¯re welcome. We¡¯re a few minutes early for this morning¡¯s lessons yet, but I think some privacy may benefit you?¡±


    I nod shakily. It takes me until we¡¯re halfway up the stairs to realise that I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready to go back to learning from Electra after yesterday¡¯s revelations. That I¡¯m still terrified that she¡¯s trying to use me somehow. But right now she feels like a much better option than the room I just left.


    We barricade ourselves in her office, shutting out the world. ¡°Are you okay?¡± she asks.


    ¡°I think so.¡±


    ¡°Did you have an episode just now? It was hard to tell.¡±


    ¡°Passive,¡± I say. ¡°It might have turned into active if you hadn¡¯t shown up. Thanks again.¡±


    ¡°You needed help,¡± she says simply.


    I grimace. She dealt with the problem so effortlessly, as if she does that sort of thing every day. And what did I do? I sat there hoping it would go away and trying not to have an active episode. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have,¡± I say bitterly.


    ¡°Tallulah. It isn¡¯t reasonable to expect yourself to ¨C ¡°


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter,¡± I say. Her words seem familiar, and then I remember: I¡¯ve told Edward similar things before. No-one should have to deal with that sort of thing. I realise now that was useless advice. Because a problem being unfair isn¡¯t going to make it go away. I just have to learn to deal with it.


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡°


    ¡°This isn¡¯t the last time something like this will happen, is it?¡±


    Electra sighs and shakes her head. ¡°I imagine it will be less often after a few months, once the riot fades from public consciousness ¨C unless you find some new way to make yourself widely known.¡±


    I very much do not want to find that new way, but the last few months have taught me that it¡¯s quite likely to happen regardless. ¡°Then next time, I need to be prepared for it.¡±

 116. Change

    I need to be prepared to deal with the consequences of my unwanted fame, or infamy. And like it or not, Electra is my best option to learn what I¡¯ll need. She¡¯s never been famous herself, but understanding of human nature is a skill that can be useful in almost any situation.


    ¡°Have you ever studied acting?¡± she asks.


    I shake my head. I would have liked to, but my junior school didn¡¯t offer it and trying at Genford didn¡¯t end well.


    ¡°Pity. That¡¯s the easy way to learn what you¡¯ll need here, and I¡¯m not going to put you through the hard way.¡±


    I shouldn¡¯t ask. But I¡¯m too curious. ¡°What¡¯s the hard way?¡±


    ¡°Staking everything you care about on a perfect performance.¡± Something in the way she says it makes me think that¡¯s the way she learnt. I agree with her: it¡¯s not the way I¡¯d prefer to learn if I have a better option. ¡°Let¡¯s see¡­" she continues, "how would you have liked to deal with that?¡±


    ¡°I should have persuaded them that I wasn¡¯t ¨C what they thought ¨C that the Blackthorns ¨C ¡°


    She shakes her head. ¡°First mistake. Changing people¡¯s minds is hard. Not impossible, but that many people at once, that quickly? It¡¯s not going to happen unless you have superhuman powers of persuasion. And whatever abilities you do have, I¡¯d be surprised if that was one of them.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing at that. The amusement is swiftly replaced by frustration, though: I have these extraordinary abilities, but I don¡¯t understand them and it¡¯s too dangerous to experiment with them. And I certainly can''t use them to deal with my extraordinary problems.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. ¡°So that¡¯s not realistic. What is?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what you want. You care about not being seen as a villain, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Obviously. Except that I¡¯m talking to Electra, who very much doesn¡¯t care about that ¨C or perhaps she cares in the opposite way. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That does make things more complicated. It rules out, say, the approach I demonstrated. Caring about being seen as a reasonable, good person reduces your options a great deal.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not something I¡¯m going to compromise on.¡±


    Electra sighs. ¡°I didn¡¯t think so. Then ¨C ¡°


    Someone knocks at the door. I tense for a second.


    ¡°Good,¡± Electra says. ¡°He came back.¡± She waves a hand and the door opens.


    He is Edward, it turns out. ¡°Morning,¡± he says, sauntering in and shutting the door behind him. He looks annoyingly unruffled.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I reply, trying to ignore the resentment I can¡¯t help feeling.


    ¡°Ah, you¡¯ve decided to show yourself, have you?¡± Electra asks. ¡°How¡­ delightful.¡±


    Right. He did completely fail to return to her lesson yesterday or inform her of his intention not to return. Even if he has an understandable reason, Electra can¡¯t just ignore that.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry about yesterday,¡± Edward says. ¡°My dad ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Your dad is allowed certain lapses in common decency, because even I know how to pick my battles. You, however, are not.¡±


    Edward flinches and hesitates for a second. Only a second, though, then he says crisply ¡°I was acting to prevent a likely Malaina episode.¡±


    I pray that Electra will stop now rather than digging further. She has some idea of what¡¯s happened and what it did to him; surely she understands that needling Edward about it won¡¯t accomplish anything.


    ¡°Ensure it doesn¡¯t happen again,¡± is all she says.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can guarantee that, considering it was caused by factors outside my control.¡±


    Electra shakes her head sharply. ¡°Events may be outside your control, but the same is not true of your response to them.¡±


    ¡°Are you saying we can control whether or not we have Malaina episodes?¡± he asks. ¡°Because that would have been really useful to know before now.¡±


    ¡°Of course not. I think you know I¡¯m not. But the actions you take and the choices you make can influence that. You did do the right thing in avoiding something you thought would trigger an episode, but it would have been better if you had no need to do that.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think you¡¯re being fair,¡± I say. ¡°We can¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m not being fair. Because life isn¡¯t fair, and because the two of you in particular are going to experience many situations you struggle to cope with. And because if you show signs of so-called weakness in many of those situations, you will suffer for it.¡±


    Politics, she means. Court. Enemies and rivals who won¡¯t hesitate to exploit a weakness such as Malaina in any way they can.


    Edward¡¯s face is fixed in a grimace. ¡°And let me guess. You¡¯re the only one who can help us overcome that.¡±


    He still hasn¡¯t fully recovered from yesterday, I realise. That kind of instinctive mistrust is a strong reaction even for him. What I told him about Electra can¡¯t have helped either.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    ¡°Oh, please. I like to think I have a little more subtlety than that.¡±


    I choke back a laugh. Every time I think I¡¯m used to Electra, she comes out with something like this.


    Edward remains more serious. ¡°So your defence is that if you were trying to manipulate me ¨C which you definitely are, by the way ¨C you would be more subtle about it?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Electra smiles.


    ¡°Stars help me.¡±


    ¡°As I was saying,¡± continues Electra as if that little interaction didn¡¯t just happen, ¡°while I can help to some extent, in the end it is something that you will have to overcome on your own, supported by those you trust. And I am aware that I am not included in that category, and I don¡¯t ask to be. One of your holiday homework assignments, then, will be to think about this problem and how you will go about solving it.¡±


    It is something I need to think about. But how¡­ it seems impossible. Knowing Electra, that¡¯s probably the point.


    ¡°In the meantime¡­ I have been working on alternative lesson plans. I believe my holiday homework will be finding a way to either safely experiment with your powers or teach you practical magic, particularly combat magic, in a way that is not influenced by them. But it seems a pity to waste these few days, so¡­ I have devised more theoretical work for the two of you to complete. Edward, have you heard of An Outline of a New Theory of Spellcraft?¡±


    He nods. ¡°My dad says it¡¯s a load of nonsense.¡± As tactful as ever.


    ¡°Even if that is true, it does not mean it has nothing to teach you. There is a copy of it in the Academy library, freely available to all students. Read it and understand it; we will discuss it tomorrow. I suggest you begin at once.¡±


    ¡°The library doesn¡¯t open to students until nine after midnight.¡±


    ¡°Is that the sort of rule that applies to you?¡± Electra asks.


    ¡°I ¨C are you ¨C very well. If the cafeteria has returned to normal by lunchtime I will see you then, Tallulah.¡± He leaves without another word.


    I let the silence linger for a few seconds before asking ¡°What are you encouraging him to do?¡±


    ¡°I expect he will take the sensible approach and simply ask his cousin Rosalind to fetch the book for him.¡±


    I didn¡¯t realise that Rosie was short for Rosalind. It had to be a nickname of some sort, though. That would indeed be a much more sensible approach than what I thought Electra was implying.


    ¡°Giving us separate assignments was deliberate, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°As we discussed yesterday, what the two of you need to learn is different, and thus it is only logical. But that¡¯s not what you mean, is it?¡±


    I shake my head.


    ¡°May I ask what has happened between the two of you since we last met?¡±


    I hesitate. Nothing we discussed is that secret, but ¨C


    ¡°No? Understandable. I have the general sense, anyway. You are friends again ¨C but not, I think, quite in the sense that you once were.¡±


    I nod. No use denying it.


    ¡°Perhaps it will heal naturally in time, or perhaps ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t what?¡± Electra asks, as innocently as Electra can ask anything.


    ¡°Don¡¯t try to ¨C to engineer a situation that fixes it. You shouldn¡¯t do things like that.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Would you rather I had never interfered with the two of you in the first place, and you were casual acquaintances at the best?¡±


    I grimace. That isn¡¯t the sort of question that has an easy answer. ¡°Just because something good came of it doesn¡¯t mean it was right,¡± I try.


    ¡°But I did it specifically to make that good thing happen.¡±


    ¡°Okay. Maybe it worked out in the way I care about most. But it¡¯s also made my life a lot harder in a lot of ways. Stars, you must know I nearly died in the riot. If I had died then, it would have been your fault.¡±


    I want to take back the words as soon as I¡¯ve said them, but¡­ that doesn¡¯t mean they¡¯re wrong.


    ¡°True, that would not have happened if I had not made that choice. It also would not have happened if Lord Cavendish had not committed treason. If Mildred had not tried to use you to save him. If Edward had not wanted to go to the execution. If Lord Blackthorn had spared Cavendish, or if he had a less monstrous reputation. If the instigators of the riot had not begun it. Everything has a thousand causes, Tallulah. Every good historian should know that.¡±


    I flinch at that last line. But it¡¯s not important, not really; it¡¯s a rhetorical trick, a distraction from what¡¯s important. ¡°Maybe that¡¯s true. It is true. But arguing that no one cause matters because there are many causes can¡¯t be any better. And even if you weren¡¯t able to predict the riot, you must have known the likely consequences of being friends with Edward Blackthorn.¡±


    Stars. I started off just angry at her for thinking it¡¯s okay to manipulate people casually like that. But I don¡¯t think the Electra who genuinely has the best interests of all her students at heart would make a decision like that knowing its consequences.


    Which means that this could be a hint at what she really wants.


    And I can¡¯t let her know I¡¯ve realised, because then she can spin it however she likes to make sure I reach the answer she wants me to reach rather than the true one. It might already be too late for that, though.


    ¡°I did, but I expected that it would do more good than otherwise regardless.¡±


    And how is Electra defining more good? That¡¯s the essence of the problem, I think. ¡°And just because you were right doesn¡¯t mean that what you did was good,¡± I say, echoing my own words from earlier.


    ¡°I think the real problem is that your definitions of good and right are very different from mine.¡±


    That is quite the understatement. I¡¯m glad of it. If my moral code is ever similar to Electra¡¯s, something will have gone very wrong.


    ¡°And I am teaching you, not debating morality with you.¡±


    And this conversation is over. I¡¯m a little disappointed, but I don¡¯t think it would have gone anywhere useful. Electra has done an excellent job of proving her own point about how hard it is to change someone¡¯s mind. I¡¯m not going to persuade her that the way she sees the world is wrong over the course of a single conversation.


    Part of me wishes I could, though. Part of me wishes the world could be that simple.


    Maybe I shouldn¡¯t be letting that part make the decisions.


    ¡°All right,¡± I say slowly. ¡°If I¡¯m not going to research this theory of spellcraft¡­ what do you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°There are a few different options. For many of them, I am not a suitable teacher, but given your¡­ unique circumstances¡­ it may be harder for you to find one. And perhaps the most important question is: what do you want to learn?¡±


    I¡¯m silent. It seems like a question I should have the answer to, but I don¡¯t. Because really, it¡¯s asking: what do I want to do? Who do I want to become? And while I¡¯ve figured out a lot over the last couple of months, I still don¡¯t have the answers to those questions. Life was so much easier when I thought I knew.


    ¡°I want to not have a Malaina episode every time someone recognises me on the street. I want to be able to turn things like this morning into something positive. I want to be able to deal with whatever being friends with Edward is going to throw at me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what you need to survive, yes. It won¡¯t be easy, but I think you¡¯re already making excellent progress there to the extent that it¡¯s possible. But¡­ what you need to survive and what you want are not the same thing. And I don¡¯t want to see you reduced to the former.¡±


    She¡¯s right. I know she¡¯s right. But it doesn¡¯t give me the answers.


    I close my eyes and think. To my surprise, it¡¯s Elizabeth who comes to mind. The other day at dinner. Complaining about the prejudiced landlords making it harder for her to find somewhere to live, because she¡¯s Malaina. All the people who¡¯ve reacted with fear and suspicion when they found out I was Malaina. Everyone who¡¯s ever accused Edward of being mala sia.


    What Electra said just now, about Malaina being used as a weapon against us.


    None of that is right. None of that is how things should be.


    I want to change that.


    ¡°I want to change the way people see Malaina.¡±

 117. Malaina

    ¡°Well,¡± says Electra, ¡°never let it be said that you lack for ambition.¡±


    I laugh awkwardly. It doesn¡¯t seem like it should need ambition; it shouldn¡¯t be this way in the first place.


    ¡°You understand, don¡¯t you, that you could devote your entire life to a problem of this scale and never make a significant difference?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± I know it, at least, but knowledge and understanding aren¡¯t always the same thing.


    ¡°And if that¡¯s what happens¡­¡±


    ¡°Then it¡¯s an awful lot better than never trying at all.¡±


    ¡°Good. Tell me, then: if you had the power to change things, how would you do it?¡±


    Here, at least, I¡¯m not short of ideas. I still have everything I worked on for that essay Sam assigned us, all the research I did at the City Library. I still have everything I¡¯ve experienced for the last few months, and everything that my friends have told me about their experiences.


    ¡°More education,¡± I say. ¡°About what Malaina really is, and what it isn¡¯t. Actually consulting with Malaina about that. Changes to the law, to make it illegal to discriminate against Malaina and to make sure people get the help they need.¡±


    Electra nods thoughtfully. ¡°If implemented in the right way, that could be very effective. If implemented in the wrong way, it could be very dangerous.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°You mean¡­ more mala sia?¡±


    ¡°That is a possibility, but it¡¯s not what I was thinking of. Some forms of what you call discrimination are wrong and should be stopped, yes, but others are very much necessary.¡±


    Something in me hates that idea, but I¡¯m not convinced it¡¯s wrong. ¡°Such as?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you can think of examples yourself.¡±


    I pause to think, and once again it¡¯s Elizabeth who comes to mind. ¡°Joining the military,¡± I say carefully. ¡°Having someone in your army who could, in a crisis, become an agent of destruction and do as much damage to you as to the enemy¡­ that¡¯s not a good thing.¡±


    ¡°Somewhat oversimplified, but in essence¡­ yes. You see my point?¡±


    I grimace. ¡°Yes. But that doesn¡¯t mean Malaina can¡¯t or shouldn¡¯t fight, if that¡¯s what they want to do and if they¡¯re not going to have an active episode in the middle of a battle.¡±


    ¡°So you¡¯re saying that we need a way of finding out whether that¡¯s going to happen, preferably one that isn¡¯t just putting Malaina in the middle of a battle and seeing if they snap or not.¡±


    ¡°I¡­ guess I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°You can probably guess my next question.¡±


    And how exactly do you propose to implement such a method?


    ¡°I can. And¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± But the way things are done now can¡¯t be the best possible way. It has to be possible to make something better. If it were that easy, someone would have done it already.


    But then who am I to think I¡¯m the one who can solve this problem?


    ¡°I¡¯m not trying to discourage you,¡± Electra says, ¡°believe it or not. But if you¡¯re going to devote yourself to this, I can at least make sure you do it right.¡±


    I remember Edward¡¯s earlier scepticism, and feel somewhat sceptical myself. ¡°You know the right way to do it, then?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d hardly claim that, though I have considered it idly. But I certainly know several wrong ways and several points that would need to be taken into account.¡±


    I hesitate for a second. ¡°Can I ask another personal question?¡±


    ¡°Yes, though I may not answer it.¡±


    ¡°You haven¡¯t ever tried seriously yourself, have you? Why not?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re correct, I have not. There are several reasons, but¡­ let¡¯s say I lack faith in systems, shall we?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think it¡¯s possible,¡± I say grimly.


    Electra shrugs. ¡°I think you could accomplish something to change things for the better.¡±


    But not everything I want. Not everything that needs to be done.


    ¡°Then again,¡± she says, ¡°you¡¯ve surprised me before.¡±


    And she tells me about Malaina. That¡¯s the obvious next step, after what I¡¯ve decided. ¡°The most important thing,¡± she says, ¡°the thing you must always remember ¨C though I can¡¯t imagine it will be too foreign a concept to you ¨C is that Malaina are human. Even mala sia, though they¡¯ve lost much of who they once were, and some people are beyond help. They¡¯re just people who¡¯ve been through awful things and are still haunted by them.¡±


    I fidget uncomfortably.


    ¡°You disagree?¡±


    Stolen story; please report.


    I don¡¯t want to talk about it, or even to think about it. But¡­ Electra knows. She¡¯s always known that truth about me. There¡¯s no shame in mentioning it to her. And there¡¯s the faintest chance she might have answers. ¡°With regard to myself specifically.¡±


    ¡°Are you claiming you are something other than human? Because that could well explain your anomaly, though it would also imply Edward¡­¡± She trails off into silence, watching me.


    I can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s serious. She must understand what I really mean, but it isn¡¯t like her to joke in that way. ¡°I¡­ that¡¯s not what I meant. You know that.¡±


    ¡°Yes. And besides, to so closely mimic human behaviour¡­ even if you¡¯re not entirely human, you must be close enough that it would make no difference for most purposes. What did you mean, then?¡±


    She knows that as well. And she knows that her speculation about whether I¡¯m human, however genuine it may be, confuses and concerns me, throws me off guard. But I know enough now to recognise that and pause for a second to collect my thoughts before answering. ¡°I¡¯m not¡­¡± The words are still hard to say, but I force them out. ¡°I haven¡¯t experienced trauma.¡±


    Electra tilts her head to one side. ¡°Weeks of isolation. Nearly being killed in a riot. Having your private life plastered all over the newspapers. A complete breakdown in your relationship with your mother. Discovering strange and mysterious abilities. Watching a teacher apparently try to kill your best friend.¡±


    It makes me feel a little better, knowing that I¡¯ve been through all that and I¡¯m still here. But, I say, ¡°That¡¯s also not what I meant. Prior to becoming Malaina. What caused my Fall.¡±


    Electra nods. For one horrible moment, I think she¡¯s about to say you¡¯re right. That¡¯s not normal. There¡¯s something fundamentally wrong with you, Tallulah.


    But she doesn¡¯t say that. ¡°It¡¯s impossible to be really certain,¡± she muses instead. ¡°Especially in a case like yours, with the influence the anomaly could be having. I don¡¯t believe it is the reason for your Fall, though.¡±


    ¡°Then what is?¡± I force myself to say.


    ¡°Trauma comes in many forms, some of which may not be easily recognised as trauma.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah. Listen to me.¡±


    I¡¯m familiar with that commanding intensity, but it¡¯s not something I expected to hear in Electra¡¯s voice. Regardless, it¡¯s just as effective coming from her as it is from a Blackthorn. I shut up and listen.


    ¡°For instance,¡± she says. ¡°Your mother.¡±


    ¡°She didn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    Electra looks at me as if daring me to finish that sentence. I can¡¯t do it. ¡°Her intentions were probably good,¡± she admits. ¡°But the way she went about trying to make you into what she wanted for you¡­ taking away what you enjoyed most. Ignoring your feelings when you tried to share them. Blaming you for not being good enough.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°She did do that,¡± I agree. ¡°But¡­¡±


    ¡°But what?¡± asks Electra, smiling coldly.


    But it was for my own good. It wasn¡¯t. Not really. It didn¡¯t lead to anything good, at least, though maybe if I¡¯d been stronger ¨C


    That¡¯s her voice in my mind, telling me that. But the lazy, obstinate girl who didn¡¯t have her priorities straight would never have made it this far, survived this much.


    What¡¯s made the difference, I think, is having friends to support me. Being able to cry on Edward¡¯s shoulder or have Elsie cheer me up or Robin remind me that I need to sleep. Even just eating meals and trading friendly banter. If I¡¯d had that at Genford, I think, things would have been very different.


    Why didn¡¯t I? Why did I never belong at Genford?


    Does it matter? Shouldn¡¯t my mother have seen that it was a place I¡¯d never fit long before it was too late?


    ¡°But¡­¡± She loved me. She wanted me to be successful. But she still wanted that when she visited earlier in the term. When she wrote the letter that led to the loss of whatever remained of our relationship.


    She was wrong to do that, obviously, but¡­ why did she do it? Because she thought Edward was corrupting me, because she thought the Academy was bad for me. And after I¡¯d nearly died and nearly been shut away in an asylum, was that really so wrong a conclusion?


    She didn¡¯t listen to me when she visited. Not once, not really. She never let me try to explain that despite everything I¡¯m happy here and I belong here. And then that letter¡­ she didn¡¯t like that I was changing. Changing into someone very different from the girl she wanted me to be.


    Changing into someone she couldn¡¯t control.


    Stars.


    And those thoughts I catch myself having in her words. You shouldn¡¯t be spending so much time reading those history books of yours when you have so much else to be working on. You¡¯re fine, Tallulah, stop complaining and get on with it. Do those thoughts help me?


    Or are they the ones that linger in the back of my mind and emerge in the form of Malaina?


    I blink a few times, trying out this new interpretation of everything. Testing how well it fits into my reality. The answer is too well. Uncomfortably well.


    ¡°¡­but nothing,¡± I say. ¡°What she did was wrong.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Electra agrees. ¡°And it¡¯s shaped who you are, hasn¡¯t it? You¡¯re still living with it now?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say. And I realise what she¡¯s going to say next. What the trap is.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that, then, a form of trauma?¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± My mind seems to freeze. No, not freeze: too many thoughts spiralling in different directions, too much to process all at once. Yes. No. Maybe. But surely by that definition¡­ it¡¯s not that form of trauma, though¡­ what if¡­ I don¡¯t understand¡­


    ¡°I ¨C maybe,¡± is all I can stutter out.


    Electra laughs a little. ¡°Progress, I suppose. Think over that, and if you want to continue this conversation I¡¯ll be waiting.¡±


    I nod shakily. ¡°In the meantime¡­ tell me more about Malaina in general?¡±


    ¡°Of course. Now, you can experience trauma without developing Malaina. Many people do. I¡¯d include myself in that number. It¡¯s clear from that there is an additional factor which determines whether or not someone is susceptible to it. We don¡¯t know what that additional factor is any more than we know how Rittome evolves.¡±


    ¡°So there are people out there who could develop Malaina, but haven¡¯t experienced trauma?¡±


    Electra nods. ¡°There¡¯s no way of knowing how many. Inactive magical potential can¡¯t be detected through any known means, and the only other way of investigating the problem would be to attempt to deliberately induce Malaina, which is¡­ somewhat unethical.¡±


    That is an understatement. But it raises a point that I expect will haunt much of this lesson: the very nature of Malaina makes carrying out many forms of research into it something that will hurt and endanger people. Something that should never be done, no matter how many people it would eventually help.


    ¡°Not,¡± Electra adds, ¡°that such a small detail has stopped it being tried several times over the centuries.¡±


    ¡°What? You¡¯re saying ¨C but why ¨C how could anyone possibly think ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You¡¯re a good person, Tallulah,¡± she says. It doesn¡¯t sound like a compliment. ¡°Many people are not. Malaina in the depths of an episode ¨C even mala sia ¨C are unparalleled instruments of destruction.¡± She¡¯s smiling again. ¡°Just imagine what that power could accomplish if it were properly harnessed. Releasing even a handful of mala sia into, say, the very City we are in¡­ that could be a crippling blow to it. A prelude, perhaps, to war.¡±


    I grimace. It¡¯s a horrifying thought. ¡°But surely that¡¯s not happening now?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°The Rasin government isn¡¯t doing it, as far as I know ¨C though you¡¯d have to ask Lord Blackthorn to be sure. As for other powers¡­ who knows?¡±


    Because of course if such a dreadful program existed, Lord Blackthorn would know about it. If he wasn¡¯t in charge of it. I wish I could believe that he would never condone something like that. Not when his own son¡­


    But I can¡¯t. He would do what was necessary for the good of the country, even if that meant turning once-innocent people into weapons.

 118. Action

    The problem with Electra¡¯s private lessons, I¡¯m starting to realise, is that there¡¯s only so many revelations you can cope with in a couple of hours before you need to take time to think through them all without her present. And time to wonder how many of those revelations she¡¯s been subtly guiding you towards because they¡¯re what she wants you to believe rather than the truth.


    But leaving would mean losing out on more information, more knowledge that I desperately want. So I stay regardless.


    And she tells me stories. Not quite in that way, of course. More general observations about Malaina: common symptoms of episodes and of their worsening, coping mechanisms, problems they encounter. But it¡¯s clear that those observations come from having worked with what must be hundreds of Malaina to one degree or another. That her understanding comes from experience and nothing else.


    Some of what she tells me I can relate to ¨C she gives the advice about reciting lists, focusing on breathing, that I¡¯m familiar with by now ¨C but other parts less so. Many Malaina, for instance, find taking up high-energy sports helps them greatly. Electra doesn¡¯t know why, but she thinks it might be something to do with burning energy that could otherwise have fuelled episodes. That explanation doesn¡¯t entirely convince me.


    It does get me thinking, though. My physical fitness is about what you¡¯d expect from someone whose idea of strong exertion is climbing too many of the Academy¡¯s endless stairs. Given that I¡¯ve never planned to spend my life doing physical work, and that I¡¯m a magician, that¡¯s not as much of a problem as it could be, but¡­ perhaps it might do me good to exercise more.


    When she pauses midway through a detailed description of the ways in which Malaina can gradually Fall further towards becoming mala sia, I can¡¯t hold back the question in my mind any longer. ¡°Have you¡­ have you known anyone who became mala sia?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± she says. ¡°I haven¡¯t.¡±


    That answer surprises me, and it must show.


    ¡°It¡¯s rarer than you might think,¡± she says. ¡°As I told you when we first met.¡±


    ¡°But surely ¨C you¡¯ve worked with enough people that you must have ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± she repeats, more firmly.


    Maybe it¡¯s just good fortune. Maybe she¡¯s good enough to always be able to drag her students back from the brink. But I can¡¯t help feeling a faint sense of dread. ¡°There¡¯s something you¡¯re not telling me,¡± I say. ¡°Isn¡¯t there?¡±


    ¡°When I don¡¯t tell you something relevant to your questions or the matter we are discussing, you can assume that I have a good reason for it.¡±


    In other words: yes. But why ¨C why would she ¨C unless it¡¯s something really bad, unless she ¨C


    Stars. Unless she stops people from becoming mala sia in the only way left.


    ¡°You killed them before they could become mala sia,¡± I say, voice flat and emotionless. ¡°Didn¡¯t you?¡±


    Her silence is answer enough.


    It shouldn¡¯t be a surprise. She¡¯s threatened to kill Edward and I if it becomes necessary. She¡¯s talked about death being better than becoming mala sia. And I know she¡¯s capable of killing people, given a good enough reason.


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ legal?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Yes. A person with suitable qualifications for working with Malaina is legally allowed to kill a Malaina if they deem it the only way to prevent them from becoming mala sia. They can be called upon to justify that judgement in a court, but that has never been the case for me.¡±


    There¡¯s something so tragic about her last few words. But I¡¯m not dwelling on that right now. ¡°¡­if you wanted to, you could kill me and get away with it?¡±


    ¡°If I tried to use that law to justify my murder of you, I would find myself losing that court case and suffering the maximum possible penalty, and quite likely several less legal penalties also.¡±


    ¡°¡­because my best friend is a Blackthorn,¡± I say. ¡°But if it were someone else, someone who doesn¡¯t have that¡­¡±


    ¡°¡­then yes. I could kill them and get away with it.¡±


    ¡°And if someone else had that sort of power? Someone less scrupulous than you, who¡¯s convinced that all Malaina deserve death?¡±


    ¡°¡­yes.¡±


    Stars. I knew that Malaina are treated unjustly, that the law needs to change. But this? The problem I¡¯ve devoted myself to solving might just be an awful lot bigger than I thought it would be.


    I need to do something.


    The dining hall is thankfully free of election officials by lunchtime. Edward has done his democratic duty in between working through the book Electra recommended. He¡¯s struggling, apparently, much to my surprise. It has seven hundred pages and is not written with ease of understanding in mind.


    ¡°It¡¯s more interesting than I thought, though,¡± he observes between hasty bites of sandwich. ¡°Building spell theory up from a basis of axioms ¨C I disagree with the axioms, of course, but it does produce a logically consistent theory, and if I didn¡¯t have prior practical knowledge that spellcraft doesn¡¯t work like that¡­¡±


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    He pauses and notes the vaguely glazed look in my eyes. ¡°Anyway. What did she have you doing?¡±


    I can¡¯t contain it any longer. ¡°Did you know Electra has killed Malaina before they could become mala sia?¡±


    ¡°Yes. My father told me at the beginning, but we agreed that the risk to my safety because of that was insignificant so long as I didn¡¯t actually get close to being mala sia.¡±


    ¡°But surely it shouldn¡¯t be legal ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Sometimes it needs to be done.¡±


    I grimace and force myself to consider it from a more ruthless, Blackthorn-like perspective. ¡°It¡¯s better for everyone if ¨C if we don¡¯t have more mala sia. But surely if there¡¯s even the slightest chance that they won¡¯t become that ¨C ¡°


    ¡°In this specific instance,¡± Edward says grimly, ¡°I trust Electra¡¯s judgement.¡±


    ¡°But what if it wasn¡¯t Electra? What if it was someone who thinks all Malaina will become mala sia? There are people like that, Edward, and innocent people have probably died because of them.¡±


    ¡°Probably,¡± Edward agrees calmly.


    ¡°Don¡¯t you care about that?¡±


    There¡¯s a moment of silence. He doesn¡¯t, I realise. Another fundamental difference between the two of us.


    ¡°It¡¯s unjust,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°But the answer to that is to be stricter with who gets the power to make that sort of decision, and to actually challenge it where you think it¡¯s been unfairly made. I can¡¯t support repealing a law that is there for a good reason and probably saves more lives than it ends.¡±


    And if Edward, who¡¯s Malaina himself and understands what it¡¯s like, can¡¯t support it, then there¡¯s not a chance of persuading the political world at large that it needs to be repealed. If he¡¯s even wrong.


    But he¡¯s given me an idea, my instinctive urge for action turning into concrete form. And the pieces are falling into place. This is something that I could do. Something that would make a real difference. ¡°So,¡± I say. ¡°Hypothetically. Do you know where I could find records of those killed under this law?¡±


    ¡°Hypothetically,¡± Edward repeats. ¡°Tallulah, what are you planning?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll tell you once I¡¯ve checked a few things. Do you know?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t be certain. Bureaucracy is a complex and often illogical beast. But your best bet ¨C other than getting me to consult my dad¡¯s people ¨C ¡°


    The expression on my face makes it clear what I think of that idea.


    ¡° ¨C is the Archive of Public Information.¡±


    I remember enough from my brief legal studies that I don¡¯t need Edward to explain it to me. In fact, I¡¯m annoyed I didn¡¯t think of it myself. The Archive is a store of all non-secret paperwork related to government affairs, legal proceedings and anything else that could be in the public interest. Theoretically, anyone can request documents related to a particular affair they¡¯re investigating and receive them. In practice, there¡¯s a not insignificant fee attached, and it can take weeks for requests to be processed.


    But that¡¯s not prohibitive for a project like this. ¡°¡­and would you, hypothetically, be prepared to loan me money?¡± I do have a stash of my own coins squirrelled away in my trunk, which might just about be enough, but since the way things ended with my mother, I¡¯ve been forced to consider scenarios where it¡¯s all I have to live on and I¡¯m still lacking an income.


    Besides, if all goes according to plan then Edward will be footing a much larger bill.


    ¡°You mean in addition to the money you owe me for legal fees?¡±


    I¡¯d forgotten that. I don¡¯t think he¡¯d be too dismayed at my continuing to forget, though. He¡¯d be quite happy if it never got paid back (though I am going to repay him someday). ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°How much do you want?¡±


    I thought that would be his response. Much though I hate to admit it, having a friend with an effectively limitless supply of money can come in quite useful sometimes. ¡°I¡¯ll get back to you once I¡¯ve checked those things.¡±


    No point if it won¡¯t work in the first place. And I can¡¯t remember the exact fee the Archive charges ¨C it might depend on the nature of the information ¨C so I¡¯ll have to check that as well.


    ¡°Whatever you¡¯re doing,¡± Edward says, ¡°are you sure it¡¯s a good idea?¡±


    ¡°No. But it¡¯s a right idea. And that¡¯s what matters.¡±


    We don¡¯t stay in the dining hall after that. Edward returns to his research, and I return to Electra¡¯s office ¨C but not for long. ¡°Would it be okay if I leave to investigate things related to what you¡¯ve taught me today?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t particularly mind a free afternoon,¡± Electra muses. ¡°Very well. Though I expect a full report of what you have been researching and what you have learnt from it first thing tomorrow morning.¡±


    ¡°That can be arranged,¡± I say. I can¡¯t do this without her, anyway.


    The first part of my research is another trip to the City Library. I¡¯m let in without any objections to my age this time. It helps, at least in my mind, that what I¡¯m here for is actually what the pass was given to me for.


    The law room is one of the most famous parts of the library; its collection contains a copy of every law that currently holds throughout the Kingdom of Rasin, as well as many legal histories and copies of judgements made by judges and kings past. It¡¯s not used much by the largest law firms ¨C their internal libraries have all but the most obscure texts ¨C but there¡¯s still a small crowd of young lawyers and interested citizens consulting various books.


    The section on Malaina law is a small one, and easy to find. It takes me barely a couple of minutes to find what I need to know. The relevant law is Section Twelve of a bill that sets out the powers of those qualified to work with Malaina in the way Electra is.


    It says exactly what Electra claims it does: if such a person believes in good faith that a Malaina who they have responsibility for is more likely than not to become mala sia, they may choose to kill them before that can occur. The rest is bureaucratic procedure, but it¡¯s highly relevant bureaucratic procedure and I read every word of it.


    It confirms Edward¡¯s hypothesis that the records can be found in the Archive of Public Information in the way it sets out how this legalised murder is supposed to be reported. Within forty-eight hours of the termination of the Malaina¡¯s life, apparently, otherwise the report is considered invalid and the murder is not legal at all.


    And then there¡¯s the subsection that is most relevant of all. The procedure for lodging a disagreement with the judgement that the Malaina is more likely than not to become mala sia. There are no restrictions on the individuals who can lodge such a disagreement, though it must be done before the statute of limitations expires and the burden of proof rests on the accuser.


    I copy down the full text of the law onto a scroll of parchment from my satchel and cast a spell to make the ink dry more quickly, then roll up the scroll and snap the book shut. It¡¯s still possible, then. I could actually do this.


    I don¡¯t know where the Archive of Public Information is. Basic legal courses may include its existence and its important role, but they don¡¯t include its address. I have to beg the Library¡¯s receptionist for directions on my way out. She¡¯s busy dealing with a queue and rattles them off so quickly that I know I¡¯ll never remember them. But I feel bad about troubling her to repeat them, so I set off regardless. The City is easy enough to find your way around. I¡¯ll be fine.


    It takes me about twenty minutes to realise how wrong I am.

 119. Lost

    The City is easy enough to find your way around. If you¡¯re with someone who¡¯s grown up in it and knows it like the back of their hand, or if you stick to the main streets and those you¡¯re familiar with. If you decide to go looking for a place you don¡¯t know in an area you don¡¯t know, on the other hand, you can expect to find yourself lost very quickly.


    And that¡¯s what happens to me. I take two lefts and a right, follow the street for a hundred yards, and find myself at a T-junction that the directions definitely didn¡¯t imply I would encounter. The next step is supposed to be turning right at a crossroads, so I take the right turn and hope for the best.


    But I fail to reach anything that fits with what little I remember of the directions. Instead I find myself entering a small, quiet park. It¡¯s a peaceful place, and if I¡¯d found it some other way I would have quite liked to sit here and contemplate the world. Right now, though, I just want to find my way through it and get to the Archive.


    I¡¯ll have to stop and ask someone for directions. There¡¯s no sense in getting myself further lost. It¡¯s started to rain a little while I¡¯ve been walking, though, which means that any people who would be in this park on a cold weekday afternoon have retreated indoors. My coat is waterproof enough that the rain doesn¡¯t bother me too much, at least.


    No-one to ask for directions, then. I feel very alone suddenly. No-one knows I¡¯m here.


    Stars, I¡¯m an idiot. I should know better than to just charge off on a research mission without stopping to make sure I knew where I was going and what I was doing. Without stopping to make sure someone else knew where I was going and what I was doing.


    Nothing bad is going to happen to me, I tell myself. But you always tell yourself that, and sometimes something bad does happen and you haven¡¯t taken the right precautions.


    I have Lord Blackthorn¡¯s emergency ring still ¨C I¡¯ve been wearing it everywhere, and I barely notice it by now ¨C and he can track me by that if the worst happens. But contacting him because I¡¯m mildly lost and a little paranoid doesn¡¯t seem like the best of ideas.


    What do I do instead, then? I know I¡¯m able to retrace my steps to the Library and from there make it back to the Academy. And then I could just try again another day. But unless I bring my source of money also known as Edward along, I¡¯ll have to make a second trip once I know the price, and I only have a handful of days before I have to leave the Academy. It would be so much easier if I could just find it this time.


    And it¡¯s in the Inner Ring, which is only a mile or two in diameter. You can only get so lost within a circle of that size before you find one of the Great Roads or the wall. And assuming the receptionist¡¯s directions were meant to be helpful and I interpreted at least the first step or two correctly, I can narrow down the search area much more than that.


    I¡¯ll need to be methodical about it, and careful. But the good thing about no-one knowing where I am is that no-one with ill intentions towards me knows where I am. So, in theory at least, I¡¯ll be okay. Just as long as I don¡¯t make doing stupid things like this a habit.


    It takes me another fifteen minutes¡¯ careful searching of the streets before I find Paper Street, which apparently hosts the Archive. The rain gets heavier until it¡¯s enough to bother me and I once again have cause to regret not knowing enough basic utility spells. But it chases people off the streets, which means no more awkward encounters with strangers who think they know everything about me.


    The quiet is almost more unsettling. Every time I hear a door slam or the distant sound of horses¡¯ hooves I jump and glance around me to make sure I¡¯m not being followed. It doesn¡¯t help that, though I still have an hour or two before the sun sets, the clouds are dark enough that it feels much later than it is. Something about walking in the dark always makes me feel instinctively unsafe.


    But no-one approaches me and nothing untoward happens to me until I squint up at another street-sign, consider casting a light-spell, and make out the name I¡¯m looking for. It feels like much more of a victory than it is, and it gives me the energy to jog down the street until I reach the Archive.


    It¡¯s a building much like the others on the street, at least outwardly. Most of its neighbours are residential, though: everyone who¡¯s anyone wants to live in the Inner Ring, but the government and business buildings are mostly clustered close to its centre, pushing the homes out to places like this within a few streets of the wall.


    The Archive advertises itself with a simple gold plaque on its door, which is separated from the street by a pair of steps. The doorway isn¡¯t quite large enough that I can properly shelter myself from the weather there, so I knock as loudly as I can and only then realise that I never thought to ask or check its opening hours.


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    ¡°Okay,¡± I say to the empty air. ¡°New rule: next time I have the urge to run off on missions like this, plan first.¡±


    No-one opens the door. The Archive should list its opening hours outside, I decide; this isn¡¯t just the result of planning failures on my part¡­ though that is still most of the problem.


    I¡¯m just about to leave when there¡¯s a sound of something heavy being moved, and then the door swings slowly open. I stumble gratefully inside and out of the rain, realising too late that I¡¯m tracking water all over the shiny marble floor. Well, there go my chances of making a good first impression.


    I glance around. The room is small yet grand, and would have been the height of fashion for an entrance chamber two or three centuries ago: in addition to the floor, the wood-panelled walls are carved with intricate decoration, mostly patterns of interlocking leaves, and the ceiling is painted with stars. A large door of oak is set into the opposite wall, just behind a desk piled with enough paperwork for a person to hide behind.


    For a moment, not seeing anyone, I think that there is in fact a person hiding behind it. But then I glance to the side and see a tiny old man struggling to heave the door I entered through shut with one hand while leaning on a cane with the other.


    ¡°Here,¡± I say quickly. ¡°Let me ¨C ¡° and I step towards him and push the door. I¡¯m not surprised he was struggling: it¡¯s heavy, and I have to put my weight behind it to persuade it to move. But it shifts eventually, and then clicks shut suddenly enough that I stagger and almost fall.


    ¡°Thank you, miss,¡± the man says. His voice is stronger than his body, that of a much younger man. ¡°It¡¯s getting harder to move that big door with these old bones. Should get an enchantment set up. Arnold Alberts,¡± he says abruptly, offering me his cane-free hand to shake. ¡°Chief curator of the Archive of Public Information. Not that I do much actual curation, mind, but¡­¡±


    I blink a few times and accept the handshake. His grip is still firm and strong. The Archive is one of the country¡¯s institutions. A resource used by lawyers and politicians, a resource that¡¯s vitally important. I don¡¯t know what I expected it to be like, but certainly not¡­ this. ¡°Tallulah,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I brought the rain in.¡±


    ¡°Only water,¡± he says, waving a hand dismissively. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. Tallulah, eh? Pretty name. Unusual. Where¡¯ve I heard it before?¡±


    I have a feeling I know where he might have heard it before, but I don¡¯t want to remind him. I shrug and move on quickly. ¡°I¡¯d like to enquire about the fee to access information.¡±


    ¡°Yes. That depends what you¡¯re looking for. The older stuff¡¯s more expensive, and if you¡¯ll be wanting copies made that¡¯s more as well.¡±


    ¡°How much,¡± I ask, ¡°for full details of all Malaina who have been executed under Section Twelve of the Qualification for Malaina Work Bill in the last, say, five years? With copies?¡±


    ¡°Well, that would depend exactly how many cases you¡¯re looking at, but it¡¯s not going to be cheap. Malaina, you say?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Of course ¨C that¡¯s where I know the name. That girl who ¨C that¡¯s you, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°Tallulah Roberts,¡± I say bitterly. ¡°The girl who stood up to the Black Raven himself and lived to tell the tale. That¡¯s me. Hi.¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be like that,¡± he replies. ¡°I¡¯m not one of those idiots. Lord Blackthorn¡¯s a decent enough fellow, as they go. Bit intense sometimes, sure, but¡­¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re talking like you know ¨C never mind, of course you do.¡± The currency of every intelligence officer is information, and that¡¯s exactly what this place offers. It only makes sense that Lord Blackthorn would value making people like Arnold his.


    He laughs. ¡°I couldn¡¯t possibly comment. It¡¯s good to meet you, Tallulah Roberts.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you too,¡± I say, surprised to find I mean it.


    ¡°So you¡¯re interested in Malaina rights, then?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± I say. ¡°Things need to change, and since I¡¯ve found myself famous I might as well use it to do something good.¡±


    ¡°I wish you the very best of luck. Now, about those records, I¡¯ll need to consult with the girls before I can give you a price. How soon are you going to want the copies?¡±


    ¡°Well ¨C ideally by tomorrow ¨C is that too soon?¡± If it¡¯s not, it¡¯ll have to wait until I return after Holy Days. It would make things harder, as well, to not have the evidence before I talk to the proper lawyers.


    ¡°Too soon? Tallulah, we may be an unusual operation, but we¡¯re efficient. You come back at nine after midnight tomorrow and we¡¯ll have those copies for you.¡±


    I find myself smiling. ¡°That sounds great. Thank you so much. If you don¡¯t mind me asking ¨C who are the girls?¡±


    ¡°My daughters. Twins. They¡¯re the ones who actually run this place, but they don¡¯t do people. Least, not most people.¡±


    I¡¯m curious, very curious, but I don¡¯t feel as if I should ask anything.


    ¡°I¡¯ll go ask them about the price, then. Just wait here, I shan¡¯t be more than ten minutes.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Arnold hobbles across the room and past the desk to the other door. I realise belatedly that I should help him through it, but there¡¯s no need: he taps his cane on the floor and it swings open. That door evidently is enchanted. I don¡¯t get more than a glimpse of what¡¯s on the other side ¨C a large, cavernous space filled with shelves ¨C before he¡¯s through and the door is shut behind him.


    Well. Wait about ten minutes. I don¡¯t mind that; at least it¡¯s not raining in here. There are no chairs, though, except Arnold¡¯s behind the desk, which I probably shouldn¡¯t steal. And the walls are too ornate for me to feel comfortable leaning against them. I settle for resting my back against the door.


    I want to meet Arnold¡¯s daughters. I want to see inside the Archive itself. I want to understand how this strange family ended up running such an important institution. I definitely want to know what arrangement Lord Blackthorn has with them and whether news of my visit is likely to find its way to him. That doesn¡¯t matter too much, though, since it¡¯s inevitable that he¡¯ll hear about my plans soon enough.


    He might not approve of them, I realise. Or might not approve of me taking this action without consulting him first. I consider asking his permission for all of a second before rejecting the idea. Whatever he may think, I am not one of his people and I do not need his permission to file a lawsuit.


    I¡¯m sufficiently distracted by that surge of righteous anger that I jump when I hear the knock at the door.

 120. Amy

    Am I supposed to let the knocker in? There¡¯s no-one else here to do it, and I don¡¯t want to leave another visitor to the Archive stranded in the rain, so I probably should. It occurs to me as my hand touches the handle, though, that there¡¯s no-one else here. No witnesses. I wasn¡¯t followed here, though, at least I don¡¯t think so. And even if I was, how would anyone know when Arnold left the room?


    Unless he¡¯s in on it¡­ no, I¡¯m being too paranoid. Even so, I¡¯m ready to run at the first sign of danger as I heave the door open. The woman standing on the other side doesn¡¯t appear particularly dangerous, though. She¡¯s maybe in her mid-twenties, and wields a large umbrella which she lowers as she steps through the door.


    ¡°Arnold,¡± she says. ¡°I¡¯m just here for ¨C ¡° she breaks off as she sees me. ¡°Oh.¡±


    Now I can see her properly, I take a second to study her. She¡¯s maybe in her mid-twenties, plainly dressed. Her dark hair is thick and curly, and she wears spectacles and an expression of confusion.


    ¡°He¡¯s just in the back consulting about prices,¡± I say, doing my best to sound professional. ¡°He won¡¯t be longer than five minutes or so, if you don¡¯t mind waiting.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind waiting,¡± the woman says. ¡°Are you¡­¡±


    I hope very much that she¡¯s just confused about what the fifteen-year-old girl is doing here rather than in the process of realising who exactly the fifteen-year-old girl is. ¡°I¡¯m here to consult the Archive.¡±


    ¡°Oh? School project?¡±


    ¡°Something like that.¡± Electra has asked me to report on my progress with this, which means that it could be argued that this is an assignment she set me.


    ¡°They must set pretty high standards then,¡± the woman muses.


    ¡°Yup,¡± I say, thinking of Electra¡¯s impossible ones.


    ¡°I¡¯m Amy, by the way.¡±


    Ah. Introductions. I¡¯m starting to hate them. Maybe I should start using a false name. Or is that a bad idea? ¡°¡­Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°As in¡­?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I say flatly.


    Amy grimaces. ¡°Sorry. You must get that a lot.¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t ask any of the obvious questions, if that helps.¡±


    ¡°It does. Thanks.¡±


    We lapse into a surprisingly comfortable silence. I¡¯m the one who decides to ask questions after half a minute or so. ¡°So what do you want to consult the Archive for?¡±


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m just cross-referencing the newly added papers with other records. Waste of time, if you ask me, but my boss is obsessive about details.¡±


    ¡°Oh? And you work for¡­¡± A suspicion jumps to my mind just as I finish speaking.


    ¡°One of the ministries,¡± Amy replies casually. Too casually? And why would she not specify unless she had reason to keep it hidden? Yeah, my presence here is definitely getting back to Edward¡¯s dad.


    ¡°Tell me more about this project of yours,¡± she says.


    And that is definitely fishing to be able to give Lord Blackthorn a proper report of my doings. Maybe I should just give her what she wants. But no: if he wants to know what I¡¯m up to that badly, he can ask me himself. Preferably at a reasonable hour.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking into doing a case study,¡± I say, once again choosing my words carefully to be technically true.


    ¡°Of¡­?¡±


    I¡¯m saved from having to invent a response by Arnold¡¯s return. ¡°Amy!¡± he says. ¡°Thank you for dropping by!¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my job,¡± she says, smiling as if she¡¯s had conversations like this many times before. ¡°The papers?¡± She unzips her satchel.


    ¡°Just that pile on the end.¡±


    Amy crosses to the desk and places a handful of silver coins on it, then scoops the indicated pile into her bag. The papers fit easily enough that I wonder whether her bag has a spatial enchantment. ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll have to brave the weather again, then. Until next time, Arnold. And it was lovely meeting you, Tallulah. I hope we run into each other again.¡±


    I very much don¡¯t feel the same way, but that¡¯s nothing personal, so I reply ¡°Nice meeting you too.¡±


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    Arnold waits until Amy is gone and the door is shut behind her before informing me of the price I asked for: four Princes¡¯ Silver and a handful of coppers. Less than I¡¯d thought, honestly, but more than I¡¯d be able to afford on my own while leaving my emergency stash intact.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back tomorrow with the money,¡± I say.


    ¡°Then your papers will be ready by then. May your path to our next meeting be guided by the stars.¡±


    I¡¯m startled by the archaic greeting, but it does make sense that Arnold is living in the past somewhat. I¡¯ve read enough to know the traditional response: ¡°And may you walk there under starlit skies.¡±


    He smiles, and I take my leave.


    It¡¯s raining still. If anything, it¡¯s heavier now, and I hear thunder rumbling overhead as I shut the door behind me. It feels dangerous. Maybe I should have told Amy what I was doing and who I¡¯m pretty sure she works for; she might have given me an escort back to the Academy, or at least lent me her umbrella.


    As it is, I¡¯m on my own. All I have to do is make it back alive. It can¡¯t be further than a mile; if I run, which I¡¯m going to, that¡¯s ten to fifteen minutes. And even if I don¡¯t know the exact route, all I have to do is head towards the centre of the City until I find a familiar street.


    I jog into the street and immediately realise just how bad the weather is. A wind has picked up while I was indoors, and it blows the rain into my face. It¡¯ll do that all the way. Not like I have much choice, though. I keep running.


    I¡¯m reminded of my earlier resolution to work on my physical fitness the hard way: a couple of minutes later, I have a nasty stitch and am gasping for air. This was a bad idea. I just have to keep moving, though. Even if it is at a walk, and even if I¡¯m going to get wetter than I already am before I get back.


    Another thing I¡¯m discovering the hard way is that there is a definite limit to how waterproof my coat is, and that I just reached it. Stars, I hate this weather. Why did I not learn more basic utility spells when I had the chance?


    I notice a few strides later that my laces are undone, and hate myself for not having been more careful when tying them. It would be a humiliating end to this adventure to fall flat on my face because of untied laces, though, so I crouch down to fix them.


    Which is easier said than done: my hands are wet and growing cold, which means it¡¯s hard to do anything that requires precise movements. I¡¯m on my third attempt when I notice that I¡¯m not getting any wetter. Confused, I look up, and nearly scream when I see Amy standing right behind me, holding her umbrella to shelter us both.


    ¡°What are you doing here?¡± I snap, though my chattering teeth make it sound less angry and more pathetic. The anger is mostly with myself, anyway, for not noticing her presence sooner. Stars, if she¡¯d been someone hostile¡­


    ¡°We happened to be heading the same way, and you look like you need the umbrella more than I do.¡±


    Except that she left before me, and I can¡¯t imagine she would have hung around or taken a more circuitous route in this weather by coincidence. ¡°You mean you followed me.¡±


    ¡°Why in stars¡¯ names would I do that?¡±


    ¡°Because you work for Lord Blackthorn, and you thought he¡¯d think well of you if you reported what I¡¯m up to.¡± Oops. I didn¡¯t mean to be quite so direct. But I¡¯m too cold and wet and frustrated with myself for subtlety.


    ¡°No!¡± She takes a step backwards and then hastily repositions the umbrella so it doesn¡¯t lead to either of us getting wetter than we already are. ¡°Okay ¨C ¡° she glances hastily around ¨C ¡°maybe I do work for Lord Blackthorn. But I wanted to make sure you were safe.¡±


    ¡°I can look after myself.¡± I hate how petulant my voice sounds.


    ¡°Yes. Clearly that explains why you were out on your own in this weather without taking any evident precautions for your safety.¡± I didn¡¯t expect that biting sarcasm, and it cuts deeply. Mostly because of how accurate it is.


    ¡°Okay, maybe I made a few bad decisions today. But that doesn¡¯t mean ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Here¡¯s how this is going to work. I¡¯m going to walk you back to the Academy ¨C I assume that¡¯s where you¡¯re staying still?¡±


    With an effort, I stop myself replying with biting sarcasm of my own. ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°Good. And you can share the umbrella. And that way I won¡¯t have to mention your bad decisions to Lord Blackthorn. Shall we?¡± She offers me her umbrella-free hand.


    That seems like a surprisingly good deal, considering. I finally succeed in tying my laces and use her hand to pull myself upright.


    ¡°Just one other thing, then. Why should you trust me?¡±


    I freeze, my hand still in hers. ¡°What ¨C what do you mean?¡±


    ¡°You know I was following you. And you have only my word that I¡¯m trying to keep you safe. Is it really a good idea to blindly go with me?¡±


    ¡°I know the way back to the Academy,¡± I protest. ¡°If you try to take me a different way, I know that there¡¯s something wrong. And if there¡¯s an ambush waiting somewhere along a normal route, I probably would have encountered it anyway.¡±


    ¡°Still, though. Just because I have good intentions doesn¡¯t mean the next stranger who offers you their umbrella will be the same.¡±


    She probably has a point, but I just want to make it back and get out of my wet clothes rather than having this conversation. Edward would say that¡¯s exactly the feeling that makes you most likely to make mistakes. I wish I didn¡¯t have to listen to my mental model of Edward.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯ll worry about that when the next person comes along.¡±


    Amy sighs. ¡°Sorry. Believe it or not, I do want to help.¡±


    Despite what she¡¯s just said, my instincts are telling me that I should believe it. It¡¯s just that I don¡¯t particularly want the help of¡­ no, I¡¯m not being fair, am I? ¡°Sorry. Can we just go?¡±


    She nods. There isn¡¯t much conversation after that, which suits me. The sound of the rain helps prevent the silence from becoming awkward, though there is still tension between us. We just walk on through the rain. The umbrella does help more than I¡¯d care to admit, but it can¡¯t do anything about the puddles that are growing on the pavement, and my boots are reaching the limit of water they can absorb.


    Wet feet are not pleasant.


    The streets stay quiet even as we get closer to the Central Ring. Most people are sensible enough to stay indoors in weather such as this. There¡¯s the occasional ominous rumble of thunder. It feels like a time when dangerous things happen. I hope selfishly that they don¡¯t happen to me this time.


    And then suddenly we¡¯re in the Central Ring. It¡¯s not deserted, even now. It never is, between the pilgrims and protestors and politicians that flood it by turns. But it has a very different atmosphere. Isolated people hurry across in different directions, clutching coats to themselves or holding bags over their heads.


    ¡°I take it you can find your own way from here?¡± Amy asks.


    I bite back a sarcastic response. ¡°I can.¡± And I force myself to add ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Then I duck out from under the umbrella and set off on the last little piece of my journey.

 121. Worried

    It¡¯s an uneventful little piece of journey, at least until I find Edward sitting at the bottom of the main staircase frantically taking notes from a heavy-looking textbook shut.


    ¡°Hi, Edward,¡± I say, walking towards said staircase.


    ¡°Where¡¯ve you been?¡±


    ¡°Researching,¡± I say. ¡°The City Library and the Archive. Can you lend me four Princes¡¯ Silver and ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tallulah, you can¡¯t just rush off into the City without telling anyone where you¡¯re going. That¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    Oh. Right. I guess he¡¯s right to be worried, considering. ¡°I realised that halfway through my expedition, don¡¯t worry. I won¡¯t do it again.¡±


    He visibly relaxes. I feel another stab of guilt as I realise just how concerned he was. ¡°Good. Nothing happened this time?¡±


    ¡°Other than getting soaked? No. I¡¯m fine. Do you mind if I go and change?¡±


    In answer, Edward snaps the textbook shut and stands, hands full of parchment and a quill tucked behind one ear.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to walk with me.¡±


    ¡°Does this look like a comfortable spot to work?¡±


    Oh. He was only there because he was waiting for me. That should have been obvious. ¡°I guess not,¡± I say. ¡°Thanks. Let¡¯s go, then. How¡¯s your project going?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m still only on page four hundred and ten,¡± says Edward, setting off up the stairs. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure Electra deliberately set me an impossible task. Either that, or she expects ¨C ¡° He stops talking abruptly.


    ¡°What?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter.¡±


    ¡°Just say you can¡¯t tell me and I¡¯ll accept it. Please don¡¯t¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine. I can¡¯t tell you. Sorry.¡± He pauses. Maybe he¡¯s wondering if he can tell me. I can¡¯t imagine it¡¯s possible for it to be more important than the secrets of his I already know. But I guess if it¡¯s not entirely his secret¡­


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Doesn¡¯t surprise me that Electra would set you an impossible task.¡±


    ¡°Teaching me the meaning of failure,¡± Edward agrees. Am I imagining it, or is he relieved I¡¯m not digging further into his secrets? He¡¯s been walking a little faster than I have ¨C I blame the extra weight of waterlogged clothes ¨C and he stops to wait for me to catch up. ¡°You¡¯d think she¡¯d know better, after how her last attempt ended.¡±


    It takes me a second to place what he means. Flow state. The whole trying to kill Edward thing. I probably should be more concerned about that than I am. ¡°You¡¯re not planning to ¨C ¡°


    Maybe that was what he was referring to earlier. Using the anomaly to do what should be impossible. I can¡¯t imagine Electra wanting him to do that, though. She¡¯s been very insistent on our not doing that¡­ then again, Electra being herself, it wouldn¡¯t altogether surprise me if that was a trick.


    But it¡¯s dangerous. We shouldn¡¯t.


    But I want to. It¡¯s addictive, that feeling that actually I can deal with whatever the world throws at me, that little problems like something being obviously impossible aren¡¯t enough to stop me any more. Life would be so much better if I felt like that all the time.


    But maybe that very temptation is what makes it most dangerous.


    ¡°Tallulah?¡±


    Oh. Right. I was having a conversation. ¡°Sorry. Just¡­ lost focus for a second.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to do anything as reckless as what you¡¯ve done today, if that¡¯s what you were worried about.¡±


    I grimace but accept his barbed comment. If that and wet clothes are the worst that come of my little adventure, then I¡¯ve been remarkably lucky.


    We reach my dormitory shortly after that, and I excuse myself to dry my things. Edward promises to meet me for dinner and discuss loaning me more money then, which means I¡¯ve made all the progress I can for today.


    What I¡¯ve done so far is the easy part, though. This isn¡¯t a problem I can solve alone.


    I meant to go over the notes I made in the City Library before dinner. But by the time I¡¯ve got out of my wet clothes, showered and redone my hair, I only have fifteen minutes. And I¡¯m exhausted, more so than I should be. In the end I spend the fifteen minutes lying on my bed staring into space.


    I¡¯m pleasantly surprised that Edward doesn¡¯t bring his book to dinner. He¡¯s got through another forty pages since we last spoke, apparently, which is equal parts impressive and scary. Once we¡¯ve got our food and found a spot to sit, he leans back in his chair, folds his arms and says ¡°So, you have a business proposition for me?¡±


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    He sounds so serious that I have to bite back laughter. ¡°Business proposition implies that you¡¯d be making a financial profit on the arrangement. Which you wouldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Oh? What would I get out of it, then?¡±


    I¡¯m reasonably sure he¡¯s joking. I really hope he¡¯s joking. ¡°The satisfaction of doing some good for the world? Justice for someone who was murdered, and knowing that the person who did it won¡¯t be able to do it to anyone else?¡±


    ¡°That relies on me being altruistic, though.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I¡¯m asking you nicely, and you don¡¯t have anything better to do with the money.¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°Okay. You got me. But before I give you whatever you need, can you tell me what exactly you¡¯re planning? I think I have the general sense, but to be sure¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going to file a claim that someone who was killed under Section Twelve was killed unlawfully.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°You¡¯re going to need a good lawyer, then. And an expert on Malaina.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good thing I happen to be acquainted with both of those people, then, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°You can persuade them to go along with it?¡±


    ¡°I think so.¡± I hope so.


    ¡°And you know even then it might not work? You might lose the case?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still better than not even trying.¡±


    ¡°And you know that something like this will have consequences?¡±


    ¡°Everything has consequences.¡±


    ¡°Look. Like or not, you are somewhat famous. If it comes out that you¡¯re doing something like this, a lot of people will be interested.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± I say. ¡°That¡¯s the plan.¡±


    ¡°A lot of anti-Malaina activists are going to hate you for doing something like this.¡±


    ¡°If they think that it¡¯s okay for people to be murdered ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Malaina aren¡¯t people, not the way they see it ¨C ¡°


    ¡°If they already think I¡¯m not human ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Just because you hate them and fundamentally disagree with them doesn¡¯t mean their opinions can¡¯t affect you. And that¡¯s before they start getting together with the anti-Blackthorn activists, who are only going to get worse once they realise where the funding for this is coming from¡­ actually, on second thoughts, maybe it¡¯s not such a good idea for the case to be funded by a loan from Edward Blackthorn.¡±


    I grimace. ¡°I don¡¯t know where else I could get that sort of money, though. Unless I could persuade my dad to do it for free¡­ but that wouldn¡¯t be fair to him, and besides ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s a bad idea for the money to be seen to come from the Blackthorns,¡± Edward corrects me. ¡°I¡¯m sure my dad could arrange something.¡±


    ¡°Are you¡­¡± I begin, before realising that we¡¯re not alone in this room or protected by any sort of privacy ward, which makes it a very bad idea to say suggesting that Lord Blackthorn would launder money to pay for me to file this lawsuit? Or is that legal? Because it feels like it shouldn¡¯t be.


    I think my expression says it for me, though.


    ¡°¡­okay, maybe we can discuss that later. But the offer¡¯s there if you want it.¡±


    I hate myself a little for not immediately refusing. He has a point, though: the less this becomes about the Blackthorns, the better, and if that means some questionably-legal sources of finance which don¡¯t actually hurt anyone¡­


    I¡¯ve been corrupted, haven¡¯t I? Doing wrong things for good reasons doesn¡¯t make them any less wrong. I shouldn¡¯t even be considering this. But I am.


    ¡°I¡¯ll think about it,¡± I say. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Edward disappears swiftly to return to his impossible task ¨C though he says I¡¯m welcome to keep him company in our usual study room if I want to. He¡¯s left me with a lot to think about, though, because he¡¯s right: this is not going to be easy. People aren¡¯t going to like this, aren¡¯t going to like me for doing it.


    And I¡¯m going to suffer because of that. Part of me feels like I¡¯m mad just for even considering it when I could just¡­ not. But another part of me is asking if not you, who¡¯s going to do this? Who¡¯s going to show people that it¡¯s not okay to kill Malaina?


    That does make me wonder, actually: there must be other pro-Malaina activists out there somewhere. I can¡¯t be the first person who¡¯s ever wanted to fix things. Maybe I might find support as well as hatred in response to this. I can hope, at least.


    In the meantime, I¡¯ve remembered that I¡¯m leaving the Academy in two days. Going home ¨C well, not really, because home is where my mother lives and I am not going to live with my mother a day longer ¨C but going to stay with my dad for the holidays.


    Stars, I realise as I step into my empty dormitory, this place is my home now. How has my life changed so utterly in only a few months?


    But I have more practical concerns: packing. My things are all kept fairly tidy or at least shoved into the bottom of my trunk, but they need to be sorted through and made to take up as little space as possible. I have library books to return, clothes to fold, random pieces of junk to throw out. And mundane as that sort of thing may be compared to everything else I¡¯ve dealt with recently, it still has to be done.


    It''s almost a relief to have problems I know exactly how to deal with. I work efficiently for an hour or two until I¡¯ve dealt with most of what needs doing ¨C I can¡¯t return the library books until it opens tomorrow, and the process of squeezing all my worldly possessions into the trunk will have to wait until I won¡¯t be needing those possessions before I leave.


    Then I¡¯m done. I feel like I should be doing something else. But there isn¡¯t any more progress I can make on my project until I have details of the cases and can talk to Electra or my dad about it. Holiday homework, I suppose, then.


    Edward is where he said he would be; he glances up as he sees me enter and immediately returns his gaze to the pages of his book. I¡¯d be offended if I didn¡¯t know him so well, but I¡¯ve spent enough time studying with him to know that sometimes he will just filter out all distractions.


    It¡¯s quite a good trait in a study partner, actually. It¡¯s nice to know that I¡¯m not alone while working, but also that I¡¯m not going to be able to use him to distract myself.


    Not that I need anyone else to distract me tonight, given my thoughts are doing a good enough job of that on their own, between the questioning whether this project is really a good idea and what makes me think I can make it work and the worrying about where I¡¯m going to be staying after the next two nights. But I make slow and steady progress despite that.


    Until I happen to glance at the clock and see it¡¯s nearly midnight. ¡°Edward,¡± I say.


    He glances up at me. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s eleven and fifty after noon.¡±


    ¡°Oh. So it is. I still have three hundred and twenty-seven pages left.¡±


    ¡°You shouldn¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I¡¯m going to finish this project tonight.¡±


    ¡°Edward. You¡¯re the one who¡¯s always telling me I should look after myself more. That applies to you as well.¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°I¡¯m fine. It¡¯s only one night, I don¡¯t intend to make a habit of it. Go and sleep; I¡¯ll see you tomorrow.¡±


    I¡¯m not going to talk him out of it. I¡¯m sufficiently tired now I¡¯ve realised how late it is that I don¡¯t particularly want to talk him out of it. ¡°¡­goodnight.¡±

 122. Election Results

    Edward is somehow still at breakfast before I am the next morning, and I¡¯m getting up early enough to make it to the Archive at nine. And he doesn¡¯t seem noticeably tired either; he¡¯s paging frantically through the papers when I slide my tray of porridge onto the table opposite him.


    ¡°Morning,¡± I say. ¡°Any interesting news?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing in particular. Just the election results.¡±


    His sarcasm is biting. ¡°Oh. Right. That. So¡­ what happened?¡±


    Edward grimaces. ¡°It¡¯s a mess, is the short version. The King¡¯s Party didn¡¯t win a majority.¡±


    ¡°¡­ah.¡± That is indeed a mess. It¡¯s exceedingly rare for that to happen, and it¡¯s generally either the cause or effect of political instability in the Kingdom. ¡°How close were they?¡±


    ¡°Quite. Only half a dozen seats. There¡¯s two different traditionalist parties they could bring on board to get a majority, but the Reformists are only about twenty seats behind the King¡¯s Party and Ariana Carling has been claiming up and down it¡¯s undemocratic to not give them a voice in the government.¡±


    So bad, but not so bad it¡¯s going to lead to an imminent constitutional crisis. Just a government with a slim majority, reliant on the support of at least some of the traditionalists and with strong reformist opposition. ¡°Right. Can I ¨C ¡°


    Edward nods and tosses me a copy of the Herald. His summary is an accurate one, though short on details. The main story is the unexpected success of the United Reformists, which comes at least partly from outcompeting the other reformist parties. But they have made noticeable gains from the King¡¯s Party, while the traditionalist vote has remained largely stable.


    My breakfast is about half finished by the time I¡¯ve had my fill of election news. ¡°How was last night?¡± I ask, setting the newspaper aside.


    Edward shrugs. ¡°Got it finished.¡±


    ¡°How long did it take you?¡±


    ¡°I finished at about three and thirty.¡±


    ¡°¡­it¡¯s just gone seven now.¡±


    ¡°I know.¡±


    ¡°You slept for less than four hours.¡±


    ¡°Evidently.¡±


    I blink a few times. This feeling is becoming unfortunately familiar. Edward being able to function on less than four hours¡¯ sleep would explain a fair bit about him, actually. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t even be surprised, should I?¡±


    He laughs. ¡°You slept well, I assume?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Twice as much as you, but still not enough.¡± Sometimes it just doesn¡¯t feel fair. ¡°By the way, could you tell Electra why I¡¯m not there early this morning? And that I¡¯ll be there by¡­¡± I mentally calculate. ¡°Ten and thirty after midnight.¡±


    Edward nods. ¡°I¡¯m not sure she¡¯ll like it.¡±


    I think Electra would accept it if I had a good reason. And this is worth it even if she doesn¡¯t. ¡°Well, consider me warned.¡±


    Edward nods, and we return to a comfortable silence while I eat and he reads, occasionally remembering to take a bite or two of toast. After a couple of minutes he sighs and throws his third paper to one side.


    ¡°What?¡± I ask.


    ¡°Too much speculation, not enough facts. I want to know what¡¯s happening with the negotiations between the King¡¯s Party and the traditionalists.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s still going on, though, and the papers can¡¯t exactly give live updates. You could ask your dad?¡±


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°He won¡¯t have time. Said he¡¯d give me details in a few days, but¡­¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not now.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not now,¡± Edward agrees. ¡°What¡¯s the point in being a Blackthorn if I can¡¯t get instant updates on the political situation?¡±


    I laugh.


    The rest of breakfast is about as uneventful as it comes, and then it¡¯s time to set off for the Archive. I¡¯m alone again: Edward has to meet Electra, Elsie is gone, and neither Elizabeth nor Robin is around to escort me. Elizabeth has at least managed to resolve her housing problem, though the rent she¡¯s being charged is somewhat unreasonable. Getting a loan from a Blackthorn helps with that.


    At least I know my way there this time. And the streets feel far safer in the morning when it¡¯s not pouring with rain, even if that feeling is partly an illusion. The weather has changed dramatically since last night, though: the storm has blown over and the skies are clear. It¡¯s a crisp morning, with touches of frost on the grass near the Academy¡¯s main gates but at least I now know warming-spells to make the cold less of a misery.


    The Central Ring is busier than normal. I guess that¡¯s to be expected in the aftermath of the election, with Parliament so close. Are the negotiations that will determine the next government going on mere dozens of yards from where I ate breakfast? It¡¯s a surreal thought; perhaps I¡¯m not as used to living in the very heart of the City as I thought.The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    It¡¯s not just busier than normal, I realise as I step into it. There¡¯s hundreds of people packed into the space, some of them trying to make their way to and from Parliament or occasionally the Central Bank or the Abbey Royal, while others are just gathered to wait for news, and still others ¨C their shouts echo through the morning air:


    ¡°Ariana Carling for Prime Minister!¡±


    ¡°The proposed coalition goes against what the people voted for!¡±


    ¡°We demand transparency!¡±


    ¡°Where is the King?¡±


    It¡¯s not quite a full-fledged protest, but it wouldn¡¯t take much to turn it into one. Dangerous. I wonder if Lord Blackthorn is watching this scene as he watched the protest when we first met, if he has contingencies in place for this turning into something altogether uglier.


    And then my mind is not free to wonder any more, because a businessman barges into me and sends me stumbling. I stagger but keep my footing, nearly falling into someone¡¯s back. And suddenly I¡¯m lost, adrift in the currents of the crowd, alone and helpless.


    Just like the riot. Just like what happened before. Except now there¡¯s no Edward to save me. Except now ¨C


    I shuffle forwards a few steps, carried by the movements of the people trying to get closer to the Parliament building or to the growing group of Reformist activists gathered by the statue of the Mages.


    I have to get out of here. Something that should be so simple feels like an impossible task, and I¡¯m suddenly terribly afraid that it will be impossible. That this is the end, after everything I¡¯ve survived.


    No. I can¡¯t let that happen, I have to do something, I have to ¨C


    Not Malaina. Not that. Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. I force myself to stay calm and keep breathing. I¡¯m aiming for the South Road, but that doesn¡¯t matter right now; any road that leads out of the Ring, then I¡¯ll figure out how to cut through quieter streets to get where I need to be.


    But any way out is going against the tide that¡¯s pulling me towards the centre. I can¡¯t hope to fight my way backwards to the North Road and the South is almost completely blocked by the parts of the crowd pressed as close as they can get to Parliament.


    Sideways, then, to the East or West. That should be possible. I take another deep breath (Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.) Then I set off, moving now with purpose. It doesn¡¯t exactly go according to plan; while I manage to get a little further east, I¡¯m towed further north by the crowd until I¡¯m only a yard from the statue of the Mages and the growing group of Reformists there.


    And then I trip, or someone accidentally pushes me, or ¨C I¡¯m not sure quite what happens, only that it ends with me sprawled on the ground right besides the statue.


    ¡°Miss? Are you okay?¡± A man¡¯s voice, unfamiliar, concerned.


    I blink a few times. The man standing over me is one of the activists, to judge by the deep United-Reformist blue of his coat. He¡¯s tall and powerfully-built, with short curly dark hair.


    I scramble to my feet before anyone can knock me over. My knees are stinging, but my body obeys my commands. ¡°Yes. Yes, I¡¯m fine. Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Would you like to stay here a moment? We have a little space. You can catch your breath.¡±


    The offer seems a genuine one, but I just want to get out. ¡°Thank you ¨C I really appreciate it ¨C but I should go.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure you¡¯ll¡­¡± his voice trails off in a way that¡¯s becoming uncomfortably familiar. ¡°You¡¯re Tallulah, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I have somewhere to be ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Tell me, what are your thoughts on the result of the election? Don¡¯t you agree that we Reformists deserve a say in how the country is governed?¡±


    I always thought that the pitying looks and the incessant questioning about the Blackthorns were bad. This is worse. ¡°I ¨C ¡° My body is frozen, but my mind is whirling.


    He wants to use me for political gain.


    What happens if I say yes? What happens if I say no?


    I need to get out of here.


    What are the political consequences of my taking a stance here? What are the consequences for me?


    I can¡¯t do this. I don¡¯t want to do this.


    I need to get out of here.


    And finally, my body responds. ¡°I¡¯m very sorry ¨C ¡° I stutter ¨C ¡°I can¡¯t ¨C ¡° and before I have a chance to think better of it, I¡¯m plunging back into the depths of the crowd. I¡¯ve found something worse than being lost there.


    What if he comes after me? What if I¡¯m too good an opportunity to let slip away?


    What if I don¡¯t make it as far as the East Road?


    No. I¡¯m going to make it. I have to make it. Eleanor the Bold. I weave and shuffle and push where I have to, edging further away from the statue and closer to the road. It seems to take a small eternity, but suddenly I realise that the crowd around me has thinned and I¡¯m only a few yards away from the edge of the Ring and freedom.


    Stars. I almost want to cry with relief. But I¡¯m in public; I can¡¯t collapse, can¡¯t let my guard down. I give myself the luxury of a few seconds standing at the very edge and trying to breathe before I set off on the rest of my journey.


    Practical matters first. I didn¡¯t budget for it taking me this long to make it through the Ring, so I¡¯m probably running late, especially since I¡¯ll have to get back to the South Road as well. I should walk quickly. That I can do, at least, and with my heart pounding the way it is it shouldn¡¯t be a problem. I just hope that I don¡¯t encounter any more obstacles.


    But once I¡¯m free of the Ring, the City isn¡¯t much busier than normal. And it doesn¡¯t take me too long to cut through a pair of side streets and get back to where I originally wanted to be. I have the route from here memorised; I¡¯ll be fine.


    Which, unfortunately, means my mind is no longer filled by immediate concerns.


    I never thought my opinion on the election¡¯s results would matter more than anyone else¡¯s. I¡¯m terrified by the realisation that it does. Because I don¡¯t know the right answer. I¡¯ve thought maybe more than most about how I¡¯d change things if I were in power myself, but my ideas don¡¯t fit naturally with any political party.


    I¡¯m probably closest to the Reformists, I suppose, but then my best friend is a royalist to the core (or is he? Does he just have that position because it¡¯s essential to his future, or does he really believe in the King¡¯s Party¡¯s ideals? I should ask him.) And while their getting no say in the government despite having won close to as many seats as the King¡¯s Party may feel unfair¡­ that¡¯s how the system works, and I don¡¯t think the system is a bad one.


    Besides, my advocating for the Reformist cause would have consequences. I don¡¯t understand enough of politics to see them all clearly, but¡­ I¡¯ve become simultaneously a friend to the Blackthorns and a symbol of resistance against them, depending on who you ask. Some people claim I¡¯m a hero, some claim I¡¯m a monster, some a victim.


    There are a hundred different narratives you could fit to my hypothetical declaration of support for the Reformists. The Reformists are against the Blackthorns! Lord Blackthorn is trying to infiltrate the Reformists! Lord Blackthorn is using the Reformists for his own gain! Lord Blackthorn¡¯s son is friends with a Reformist ¨C does this mean there¡¯s a rift between father and son?


    Few of those outcomes seem good. Though I guess that depends on who they would be good for. Who do I want them to be good for?


    I can¡¯t even answer that.

 123. Negotiations

    My thoughts are troubled as I walk the rest of the way to the Archive, but the journey itself goes smoothly. By the time I make it there it¡¯s only fifteen minutes after nine, and I more or less trust myself to sound competent and professional again.


    Until I knock on the door, and the man who opens it for me is Lord Blackthorn.


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± he says, stepping aside so I can enter.


    ¡°I ¨C what are you doing here?¡± Not my most eloquent moment, but managing to form a complete sentence is an achievement on its own with the panic and confusion filling my mind.


    ¡°Visiting old friends. And I thought I might find you here, which led me to wonder what you were doing here.¡±


    I step inside. The entrance chamber is deserted except for Lord Blackthorn, unless Arnold is hiding behind the vast pile of papers on his desk this time. But I doubt it. I¡¯m suddenly afraid. What does he want? What do I have to do?


    ¡°That¡¯s my personal business,¡± I try, though I don¡¯t expect it to work. If Arnold is allowing this conversation to happen, he must have told Lord Blackthorn about the papers I requested. And deducing my intentions from that is not exactly hard.


    ¡°Tallulah. You are my son¡¯s best friend and a person of note to the general public. Your personal business is my business.¡±


    He¡¯s not wrong, from a certain perspective. My actions and affairs could directly influence a lot of things that he cares about, and he is not a man who lets these influencing factors remain unknown. I need to pick my battles with him very carefully, and this isn¡¯t one to fight.


    ¡°I¡¯m intending ¨C assuming I get the information I need, and I can persuade the right people to help me ¨C to lodge a disagreement under Section Twelve, Subsection Five.¡± I¡¯m assuming that he¡¯s done enough research at some point to know what that subsection refers to.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Because people have been unjustly killed because of that law. And I ¨C you shouldn¡¯t be able to do that without consequence.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. But why should it be you who does this?¡±


    ¡°Because no-one else is doing it. And because if it¡¯s a person of note to the general public, as you put it, then the general public will pay attention.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that their attention is a good thing?¡±


    No. No, I am not. ¡°I¡¯ve thought this through.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Well. I suppose that¡¯s something. And why did you not think to inform me of this?¡±


    It was too much for me to hope that I could just answer all his questions honestly without any problems. Because he is not going to like the answer to this one. But there aren¡¯t any lies that he would believe, at least not that I can think of on the spot. ¡°¡­because I didn¡¯t think it was necessary.¡±


    He pivots suddenly and marches away from me towards an empty corner of the room. I blink a few times, but he turns again at the corner and keeps walking until he¡¯s looped around the room and is standing on the other side of me. ¡°It appears we have very different definitions of what is necessary. I need to know these things, Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°And you know them.¡±


    ¡°I need you to tell me these things.¡± There¡¯s a faint edge of intensity to his voice, one that suggests I¡¯m pushing him too far. ¡°Yes, I have other sources of information, but I can¡¯t always guarantee they will be quick or reliable. And I need to know in time to be prepared to deal with the consequences, or in time to stop you if needed.¡±


    ¡°Stop me,¡± I repeat, suddenly angry. How dare he think ¨C


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°You have no right to stop me.¡±


    ¡°In what sense?¡± he asks, genuinely curious. ¡°Moral, legal¡­¡±


    ¡°Both of those.¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Let¡¯s say, then, as a hypothetical, that I make sure that you cannot access the papers you have requested from the Archive. I presume the fact I could do that, if I wanted, is not in question?¡±


    I glance around the empty room and grimace. ¡°It is not.¡± My anger is fading, leaving me with only a growing dread. Because he¡¯s right. If he doesn¡¯t want this project to go ahead, it won¡¯t.


    ¡°So. I prevent you from accessing the papers, which goes against your legal and moral right to make requests of the Archive. What do you do about it?¡±


    I grimace again. This hypothetical battle is not one I could win; I don¡¯t know if I¡¯d even try. ¡°I could take legal action,¡± I say. ¡°Or threaten it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose you should. But threats are worthless unless there is a real possibility of your carrying them out. And I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of the consequences of carrying out this particular one?¡±


    ¡°In the eyes of the country, I¡¯m declaring myself your enemy.¡±Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work!


    ¡°Precisely. And how do you think my son would feel about that choice?¡±


    And I¡¯ve lost. The last conversation we had, when I kept Elsie¡¯s secret from him, I won by reminding him that if he hurt me, Edward would never forgive him. But conversely if I did something so blatantly against Lord Blackthorn¡¯s interests, Edward would never forgive me.


    So if Lord Blackthorn decides to deny me access to the Archive, he can, and there¡¯s nothing I can do about it. ¡°You¡¯ve proven your point,¡± I admit. ¡°But if you think you can threaten me into ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I could. But I don¡¯t intend to. Not unless you make me.¡±


    ¡°Not unless ¨C ¡° I make him? The idea that I¡¯m somehow forcing him to threaten me is absurd. Creating the illusion that I¡¯m the one who decides how this goes, when I have no power here ¨C


    Or do I? I do have something that he wants. Something to negotiate with. And that, I realise, is exactly what this is. A negotiation.


    I just need to figure out what he wants, what I¡¯m prepared to give him, and what I want in return.


    ¡°Believe it or not, Tallulah, I don¡¯t want you for my enemy. Quite apart from what it would do to Edward, by now you know enough that, if you made the right moves or found the right allies, you could do a good deal of damage to my interests. It would help us both greatly if we were on friendly terms.¡±


    I have to choke down bitter laughter at that. ¡°You can start by not breaking into my room at four and thirty after midnight to interrogate me.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± he says at once. ¡°Provided that the situation is not sufficiently urgent to require it, but if there isn¡¯t an imminent threat to your or Edward¡¯s safety, I doubt that would happen.¡±


    I blink a few times. I intended that as a mockery of the idea that he and I could ever be on friendly terms, not as my opening demand in negotiations. But if it means my sleep being less interrupted in future, then so much the better.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say grudgingly. And then I pause to think. Taking this strange new idea seriously. What do I want from Lord Blackthorn? For him to leave me alone and stop interfering in my life. But this conversation and these last few months have made it clear that¡¯s not realistic.


    ¡°Don¡¯t stop me doing things,¡± I say.


    ¡°I can¡¯t promise that. Not as much as you want. But as long as the things you intend aren¡¯t obviously stupid or against my interests, and as long as I¡¯m informed of them in advance¡­¡±


    That¡¯s about as much as I could reasonably expect, I think. But the wording wouldn¡¯t hold up in any legal contract; far too ambiguous. I laugh a little at the idea of drafting a formal contract for the terms of my relationship with Lord Blackthorn.


    ¡°What is it?¡± he asks.


    I don¡¯t quite know how to say this entire situation and how under starlit skies I found myself in it without provoking more questions. ¡°It¡¯s just¡­ surreal sometimes, you know?¡±


    ¡°No, I don¡¯t,¡± he says. I shouldn¡¯t be surprised; like Edward, he must have grown up knowing that he would some day have power. Never realising that what that does to a person is not particularly normal.


    ¡°It is for me, anyway.¡± That¡¯s distracted me from the ongoing negotiation, and I take a few moments to think. ¡°My current intentions,¡± I say. ¡°Subsection Five. Would that fall under the category of things you would not allow?¡±


    ¡°If it did, this conversation would be considerably less civil.¡±


    I grimace, but it¡¯s good really. ¡°Then you¡¯ll let¡­ you won¡¯t stop me getting the documents I need?¡± It¡¯s too much to hope that he didn¡¯t spot my change of wording. That he didn¡¯t realise that I need at least the illusion that I don¡¯t need his permission.


    ¡°Assuming we can come to a satisfactory agreement, yes.¡±


    I tense, suddenly angry again. So he is going to hold this over me, use it as a negotiation tool when it¡¯s about far more than just me ¨C stars, I hate him ¨C


    But still I make myself consider things from his perspective. This na?ve, idealistic teenager is determined to change the world for the better, and I unfortunately need her to be on speaking terms with me because she¡¯s my son¡¯s best friend. Hence this negotiation. But if she¡¯s not going to work with me regardless, I¡¯m better off just stopping her doing anything that could be annoying to deal with.


    Looking at it that way, there is a certain logic to it which feels a little better than just blackmail. Not much better, though. ¡°What do you want from me, then?¡±


    ¡°For you to not be an obstacle. Which means, in practice, not doing things that could have large-scale consequences without informing me, not doing those things if I tell you not to, and not concealing relevant information from me.¡±


    It¡¯s that last one that makes me flinch. I¡¯m concealing an awful lot of information that Lord Blackthorn would undoubtedly find relevant. Elsie¡¯s secret. Everything Amara told me, and everything she implied without outright stating. The anomaly Edward and I share. The consequences of his finding out any of those things are unthinkable.


    The consequences of his finding them out later and finding that I¡¯ve kept them from him despite promising not to might well be worse. But I can¡¯t tell him. ¡°I¡¯ll agree to those terms.¡±


    ¡°Good. Thank you. I assume you understand that this isn¡¯t a promise you can make lightly? That breaking it will have consequences?¡±


    I understand only too well. ¡°Yes.¡± I pause. ¡°And in exchange¡­¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll refrain from disturbing your sleep unless absolutely necessary. I¡¯ll make reasonable efforts to work around your goals and find ways they can align with mine. And¡­ it occurs to me that you have not asked me for help.¡±


    ¡°You mean¡­ with this project?¡±


    ¡°Or whatever others you might need help with. You must be aware that I have resources that could be very useful to you.¡±


    I didn¡¯t expect him to outright ask something like that. I¡¯ll have to choose my words carefully again. ¡°If I did ask, would you help me?¡±


    ¡°That depends on exactly what you asked for.¡±


    It¡¯s a true answer, but it¡¯s not a helpful answer, so I don¡¯t dignify it with a response.


    ¡°But¡­ if it were something that I could do without significant cost, yes.¡±


    I wonder what Lord Blackthorn considers significant cost. Not money, certainly.


    ¡°So¡­ why have you not asked for help?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Because I don¡¯t need it,¡± I answer simply.


    He raises his eyebrows sceptically.


    ¡°I don¡¯t need your help,¡± I repeat.


    ¡°Is that true, though? Or do you have some other objection to accepting it?¡±


    I pause. ¡°If I had you solving my problems for me, I¡¯d never learn how to do it myself.¡±


    ¡°True enough, but it implies¡­¡±


    I¡¯m trying to work out what he¡¯s read into my words, and after a few seconds of silence he tells me: ¡°You don¡¯t trust me.¡±


    I hesitate a fraction of a second too long to believably lie. Besides, I don¡¯t think he¡¯d believe an I do trust you however plausibly delivered.


    He sighs. ¡°Only to be expected, I suppose. At least trust this, then: I have no desire to hurt you or anything you care about. I will not do so unless it becomes necessary, and I will warn you before that is the case.¡±


    ¡°I believe that,¡± I say, because I do. It¡¯s not particularly reassuring, though.


    ¡°And likewise, I believe that you won¡¯t become an obstacle, and that you will try to prevent that from occurring. That is enough.¡±


    It isn¡¯t. Not by any sensible definition. But it¡¯s the best we¡¯re going to get.


    ¡°Thank you, Tallulah. And I wish you luck with your project.¡±


    He sounds as if he means it. But he¡¯s leaving before I have a chance to reply.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say to the empty air.

 124. Return

    Arnold appears suspiciously soon after Lord Blackthorn disappears. ¡°Tallulah!¡± he says. ¡°Glad you made it here. I have the papers you wanted.¡±


    I should be triumphant at finally getting them after the ordeals of yesterday and then this morning. I¡¯m not. Instead my mind is assembling the pieces of an altogether different puzzle. ¡°You knew he was going to be here,¡± I say slowly. ¡°You left so he could talk to me.¡±


    ¡°Of course. He¡¯s not a bad person, really. A little intense sometimes, sure, but we all have our faults.¡±


    I choke back bitter laughter. Then a few more pieces slip neatly into place and I freeze.


    Arnold is one of Lord Blackthorn¡¯s people. Lord Blackthorn must trust him ¨C as much as Lord Blackthorn ever trusts anyone ¨C to have had that conversation in this building. I should have realised sooner.


    The person who controls access to a supposedly impartial, publicly available archive that many people who don¡¯t have access to the same resources as the rich and powerful rely on will obey Lord Blackthorn¡¯s orders.


    Stars. I don¡¯t think it really hit me until that moment exactly why people say that he¡¯s plotting to seize power for himself. Oh, his dreadful reputation is certainly part of it. But he also has power in all these subtle ways already. And if he were to use that against his enemies¡­


    How do I know he¡¯s not doing that already? Stars, he probably is.


    And he shouldn¡¯t. There are some principles that should come before any political fights, and this unrestricted access to facts is one of them. What he¡¯s doing is wrong.


    And, as he¡¯s helpfully pointed out to me, there¡¯s nothing I can do about it.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, ¡°for the documents. I have the money here ¨C ¡° I reach into my bag and pull out the coins Edward gave me. His money. Blackthorn money.


    I feel as if I¡¯m complicit. To some extent, I am. I try to keep my expression neutral as I slide the coins onto the table. Arnold hands me a stack of papers, maybe the height of a textbook. Not too big to fit into my satchel; I was a little worried about that. I slip them in, trying to shake the feeling that I¡¯m doing something wrong. I¡¯m not.


    I leave more hastily than I otherwise would have. I liked Arnold when we first met, enjoyed talking to him. Maybe that¡¯s why it stings too much. It feels almost like a betrayal, though of course the idea that it is one is absurd.


    I¡¯m halfway back before I remember the crowds in the Central Ring. I have to get back through them to reach the Academy. Stars.


    I stop walking. I don¡¯t know if I have the strength to go through that all over again, especially not after the conversation I just had with Lord Blackthorn. When is life going to stop throwing all these problems at me? Sometimes I feel as if every time I survive one there¡¯s two more just waiting.


    And part of me is awfully scared that sooner or later I¡¯ll come up against something I can¡¯t survive.


    I could just¡­ not go back for a while. The crowd might die down. Or I might be better prepared to face it. But Edward will be worried. And I told Electra I¡¯d be at her office for ten and thirty. And I need to go over the papers I¡¯ve obtained, figure out if the plan can actually work. I can¡¯t afford to delay.


    But my feet refuse to step forwards. I can¡¯t face the Central Ring now either.


    So I¡¯m stuck, I suppose. There has to be another way.


    And then I laugh, because the other way I¡¯ve thought of is quite literal. The Academy has a back entrance, doesn¡¯t it? The carriage left that way for the courthouse a month or two and an eternity ago. So, in theory at least, I can get in that way. I just need to find it.


    I know the approximate direction I¡¯m heading in, at least. Skirting the edge of Queen¡¯s Park, then try to find the right side street. And that¡¯s a place I can find from here, even avoiding the Central Ring. I can do this.


    My feet finally respond to my orders and set off. It isn¡¯t too hard, once I have the idea, though it takes considerably longer than the direct route would have done. And then I¡¯m standing outside the Academy¡¯s back entrance, staring at the sign.


    Royal Academy of Magical Arts. Carriage Entrance Only. Entry on Foot through the Main Gate.


    Well. I¡¯m not a carriage, and I¡¯d feel rather foolish (and short of coin) hiring one just to get through the door. But if I explain the situation, they can hardly turn me away. Now where do I¡­ yes. There¡¯s a more human-size door next to the large and very shut one for carriages. I knock on it before I can have second thoughts about this whole idea.


    A few seconds later, it¡¯s opened by a boy maybe a couple of years older than I am. He wears the uniform of a footman, though it doesn¡¯t suit his lanky frame, and his hair can only be described as straw-like. He gives me a disdainful look. ¡°Foot entrance is round in the Ring.¡±If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    ¡°I know, but there¡¯s a crowd there. Because of the election. I didn¡¯t want ¨C ¡°


    ¡°It¡¯s not so packed you can¡¯t get where you want to go, is it?¡±


    ¡°Not quite, but ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Well then,¡± he says, and starts to shut the door.


    ¡°No ¨C please ¨C wait ¨C ¡°


    He waits. I panic a little; I said that out of desperation, without a plan. I pray for inspiration, and it arrives. ¡°I need to meet with Electra ¨C Miss James ¨C at ten and thirty. I wouldn¡¯t have time to go all the way round and make it there on time.¡±


    ¡°How is that my problem?¡±


    ¡°You must have heard what she¡¯s like ¨C ¡° I¡¯m taking a leap of faith here, but Electra seems like the sort of person that the Academy¡¯s staff would spend a lot of time gossiping about ¨C ¡°Who knows what she¡¯d do if I were late?¡±


    I don¡¯t think she would be too angry, honestly, but he doesn¡¯t need to know that. He just needs to believe that I have a good reason to not want to use the normal route. And I don¡¯t think I can persuade him that my real reasons are good. Not when part of me doubts it myself.


    ¡°We¡¯re not supposed to let students in this way. Security procedures.¡±


    ¡°Can¡¯t you ¨C fetch someone who can verify ¨C ¡°


    He pauses, and then a cruel smile spreads across his face. ¡°Tell you what. I¡¯ll go find your Miss James, see what she thinks of you not using the proper entrance. Wait here.¡± And he slams the door in my face.


    That isn¡¯t as awful a threat as he thinks it is. Electra will hardly be happy to find me here, but given that I¡¯m doing it to prevent a Malaina episode she can¡¯t reasonably criticise me for it. But of course, I realise grimly, she isn¡¯t always a reasonable person.


    I feel awkward suddenly, standing in front of the closed door. I don¡¯t have anything to do while I¡¯m waiting, and I expect it will take a few minutes for Electra to be fetched. There¡¯s the papers in my bag, but I can hardly start paging through them in the street. What else is there to do?


    I could practice casting, I suppose. I like the idea as soon as it occurs: sinking into the calm and focus of magic appeals a lot. Addictive, I remind myself, but it can¡¯t hurt if I¡¯m just working on simple things.


    I spend the next few minutes levitating a quill; not doing anything fancy with it, just making it hover in the air, as still as possible. It¡¯s harder than you¡¯d expect; there¡¯s a slight breeze which catches the quill and tries to pull it to one side, and I have to correct for that without overcorrecting. Not the kind of precise, delicate work for which Malaina are best suited, but I don¡¯t want to let that stop me.


    I¡¯m just starting to get the knack for it when the door swings open to reveal the same boy, accompanied by a sweetly smiling Electra. ¡°This is your student, I assume?¡± he asks.


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± says Electra in a tone of chilling anticipation. ¡°You mustn¡¯t worry; I¡¯ll make sure she¡¯s dealt with appropriately. Come, Tallulah.¡±


    I dismiss my spell, shove the quill back into my bag and step inside, my fear of Electra not entirely faked. The boy is smirking. What does he have against me, anyway? I know I wasn¡¯t supposed to use that entrance, but that doesn¡¯t mean he has to be mean about it.


    ¡°I assume,¡± says Electra once we¡¯re far enough away from the carriage-room, ¡°that you had a good reason for that.¡±


    ¡°The crowd. Because of the election. I¡­¡± I make myself say it: ¡°I had a passive episode getting through it the first time. I couldn¡¯t face it again.¡±


    Electra hesitates, and for a second I really am afraid, but then she nods once. ¡°That is¡­ satisfactory, I suppose. Try not to do that sort of thing too often, though.¡±


    I nod. ¡°Thank you.¡± I¡¯m relieved, more than I¡¯d ever admit, that she understands. That she doesn¡¯t think I¡¯m being weak in being unable to face that crowd again. And then I realise that I care that much about Electra¡¯s opinion of me, which is the most terrifying thing of all.


    We return to her office. Edward is waiting for us there; he shoots me a small, sympathetic smile as I enter, which I return.


    ¡°Now, Tallulah,¡± says Electra as the door shuts, crossing the room to her usual chair. ¡°Why don¡¯t you tell me what you¡¯ve been working on.¡±


    I knew this was coming. I could have planned for this, prepared for it. I didn¡¯t. Now I¡¯m going to have to improvise.


    Electra sees the look on my face and grants me a few seconds¡¯ mercy. ¡°Edward, you know what you need to work on in the meantime, I believe?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not staying?¡± Edward says, surprised.


    ¡°Does he need to, Tallulah?¡±


    I shrug. Technically he doesn¡¯t, but I want him here. ¡°That¡¯s up to him.¡±


    ¡°As the financial backer of this operation, I have a vested interest in its success and should thus be present in meetings relating to it.¡±


    In other words: if you want me to stay, I will. I wish he¡¯d say it that way, but I appreciate it nonetheless.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I say. My mind has yet to come up with a better idea than the direct approach. ¡°I want to file a claim that a Malaina killed under Section Twelve was killed unjustly. And I need your help.¡±


    Electra leans back and closes her eyes for a second, her expression unchanged. ¡°Yes, I suspected something of that nature. It seems an excellent choice of educational project for what we¡¯ve agreed you should work on.¡±


    I wonder whether she said what she did hoping I¡¯d make this decision. I wonder if she manipulated me into it. That way lies madness, though; I made this choice myself regardless. ¡°Then you¡¯ll help?¡±


    ¡°That depends on what sort of help you mean. As your teacher, I will provide advice and feedback where necessary and do my best to support you. As the expert in Malaina you are hoping to recruit as a witness?¡± She leans forwards and rests her hands on the table. ¡°Persuade me.¡±


    Stars, I hate her. I don¡¯t want to play her games. But I have to, if I want this to work.


    ¡°You must agree it¡¯s unjust. They were murdered.¡±


    ¡°Yes. The world is an unjust place. Is it my duty, then, to fight every injustice?¡±


    It should be. If it were everyone¡¯s duty to fight injustice, then maybe the world wouldn¡¯t be unjust. I don¡¯t know if that¡¯s an argument that would convince Electra. Mostly because I don¡¯t know whether I¡¯m actually trying to convince Electra, or trying to convince a character she¡¯s playing the part of.


    ¡°Not all. But I¡¯m offering you the chance to fight this one battle. Isn¡¯t that worth doing? What does it cost you?¡±


    Electra leans back again. ¡°First mistake. Don¡¯t ask that question unless you are certain of the answer. In this case? Potentially a great deal.¡±


    I narrow my eyes. ¡°How¡­¡±


    ¡°You accept that this case, if it goes ahead, will attract publicity, likely a not insignificant amount?¡±


    I nod grimly.


    ¡°And I¡¯m sure you¡¯re well acquainted with the negative consequences of publicity. I would like not to suffer them. So: why is this project of yours worth that risk?¡±

 125. Further Negotiations

    I don¡¯t know what to say. This wasn¡¯t part of the plan. I¡¯m still trying to work out how much of this is a test and how much of it is real. And despite everything Electra has told me, I most definitely don¡¯t understand her enough for this.


    There are plenty of good reasons that she should help me. But they¡¯re good reasons from my perspective, and she sees things very differently.


    ¡°Could you elaborate on your concerns?¡± Edward asks to fill the silence I¡¯m leaving.


    Electra nods once. ¡°Let us say¡­ that there are various people who would find me most interesting and useful. People with the power to hurt what I care about, if I do not give them what they want. All that protects me is that they do not know I exist. And I would very much like it to stay that way.¡±


    Stars. That is a worse obstacle than I expected to encounter. I wonder what exactly is lurking in her past that makes her interesting and useful.


    ¡°We could protect you,¡± Edward says. I blink at him a few times, confused. My instincts tell me that offer is a mistake.


    ¡°You mean your father could. At what price, I wonder?¡±


    ¡°He isn¡¯t unreasonable ¨C ¡°


    ¡°No,¡± Electra agrees. ¡°It¡¯s just that what is reasonable to him is certainly not reasonable to those negotiating with him, and he fails to understand that. Is that what you are offering, then?¡±


    What Electra cares about, I realise, is her students. Her Malaina students in particular. And I can well imagine Malaina being a weak point, too easy to attack. If she helps me, then my attempts to fight injustice could lead to that injustice being directed at all Electra¡¯s students. Elizabeth. Edward. Me, even.


    I¡¯m a weak point of Electra¡¯s. That is a startling realisation, but I realise it must be true. She cares about me, in her own twisted way.


    That, or she¡¯s still fooling me with ease.


    ¡°If you wanted to remain hidden in plain sight indefinitely, you should not have agreed to give me private lessons,¡± Edward points out. ¡°That is probably a known fact by now among whichever of the people you refer to have agents within the Academy, and I imagine Edward Blackthorn¡¯s tutor would be worthy of further investigation.¡± He narrows his eyes.


    I grimace. I feel as if what I¡¯m about to say is a mistake ¨C even if it isn¡¯t, I¡¯m sacrificing a lot to say it ¨C but I know it¡¯s the only way I¡¯ll be able to live with myself. ¡°I can¡¯t ask you to do this knowing it will put you in danger.¡±


    ¡°And yet ¨C ¡° Electra begins, but she¡¯s interrupted by Edward.


    ¡°In fact,¡± he says, ¡°seen in that light, your actions don¡¯t make sense. I can¡¯t believe you would have overlooked the danger of agreeing to give me private lessons... which leaves to only two conclusions. Firstly, you¡¯re not in danger at all and are lying to us for reasons unknown¡­¡±


    Electra is smiling. Not a trace of discomfort at the accusation crosses her face; she looks as if someone has just told a mildly amusing joke. ¡°And secondly?¡± she asks.


    ¡°Secondly, you were aware of the danger all along and have taken sufficient countermeasures to¡­ stars.¡± He¡¯s silent for a moment. ¡°You work for my dad, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Electra bursts out laughing. It¡¯s a more human sound than the way she normally laughs, as if she¡¯s genuinely amused rather than doing it for dramatic effect. After a quarter of a minute she composes herself and says: ¡°Do tell me how you reached that conclusion.¡±


    ¡°It explains so much,¡± Edward says. ¡°Why he trusted you to give me private lessons. Why I haven¡¯t been able to find who he has here watching me ¨C besides Rosie of course. Why you felt secure doing it ¨C because you already have his protection. Stars, why didn¡¯t you tell me?¡±


    I shake my head, though, and Electra sees it. ¡°Tallulah, you disagree?¡±


    Not with any confidence ¨C it¡¯s more instinct than anything else ¨C but now she¡¯s put me on the spot I¡¯m forced to explain. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ I¡¯ve seen the way you interact with him. Like you¡¯re a pair of cats spitting and snarling at each other, seconds away from drawing blood. That¡¯s not how you¡¯d interact with him if he were your¡­¡± I don¡¯t quite know the word I¡¯m looking for. Boss? Protector?


    ¡°Tallulah, you do know she¡¯s Electra, right? She would definitely do that.¡±


    He has a point. But still, it doesn¡¯t quite fit with how I¡¯ve seen them together. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I say.


    ¡°Interesting,¡± Electra says. ¡°As I was saying, Tallulah, you object to my putting myself in danger for the sake of your project, and yet you seem quite willing to do the same to yourself. Why is that?¡±Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    I blink a few times. I¡¯m not putting myself in danger for this ¨C at least I don¡¯t think I am ¨C but ¨C


    ¡°You¡¯re just going to¡­ not tell us if you work for my dad?¡± Edward says disbelievingly. ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°She¡¯s Electra,¡± I repeat mechanically, mind elsewhere. ¡°She can definitely do that.¡±


    And she still has her habit of being annoyingly right, as well. Because any enemy of the Blackthorns would know about me and be trying to work out who I am and what I want. How I can be leveraged into acting against Lord Blackthorn, against Edward.


    Something like this would be giving them knowledge of what I¡¯m prepared to fight for. I would never betray Edward to win this case, I know that without a shred of doubt, but¡­ I¡¯d rather not even have to contemplate that kind of choice.


    And that¡¯s just what I¡¯ve been able to think of in under a minute. What other awful consequences could follow from this? Is it worth risking them?


    I contemplate giving up. Tucking the papers still in my satchel into a corner of my trunk and leaving them there, unread. Just¡­ not doing it. I do have that option. Maybe it would be best to take it.


    And then¡­ what? I¡¯ve accomplished nothing. No-one else is going to do it, as I¡¯ve already argued. More people would die, people who might not have died otherwise. People I could have saved, and didn¡¯t. Because I was afraid.


    ¡°Because it needs to be done,¡± I say. ¡°And because no-one has the right to make that kind of choice for anyone else.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah ¨C ¡° Edward says, and I know what he¡¯s going to say: I shouldn¡¯t do dangerous things. Not for this. But that¡¯s the difference between us, in the end.


    ¡°If it doesn¡¯t work, it doesn¡¯t work. But at least I¡¯ll know I did everything I could.¡±


    ¡°And if something worse happens?¡±


    ¡°Then we¡¯ll survive it,¡± I say, trying to make myself believe my own words. ¡°Together.¡±


    He grimaces, but nods once.


    This might all be a moot point, though, if Electra won¡¯t help. She¡¯s been watching us in that way of hers, as if we¡¯re a show put on her entertainment. She seems perfectly relaxed, as if she has all the time in the world.


    Is she working for Lord Blackthorn? Unlike Edward, I can understand why she wouldn¡¯t want to tell us that. But if he¡¯s already guessed¡­ and if she doesn¡¯t work for him, why not just deny it?


    Because she¡¯s Electra. But that can¡¯t be the explanation for everything she does. Her actions do have motivation.


    ¡°So,¡± she says slowly. ¡°Let¡¯s suppose I do refuse for the reasons I have outlined. You will accept that refusal?¡±


    ¡°Yes. If it¡¯s genuine.¡±


    ¡°What is that supposed to mean?¡± Her words suggest she¡¯s taken offence, but her tone remains light and casual, and I don¡¯t think what I just said would really offend her.


    ¡°If it¡¯s a valid reason, and not an excuse because you just don¡¯t want to do it. If it¡¯s not a kind of test and meaningless in reality.¡±


    ¡°And do you think either of those are the case?¡±


    ¡°The former, no. The latter¡­¡± I can¡¯t tell. It might be impossible to tell. Best to just admit that rather than risking a guess. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    She studies me for a second. ¡°Let¡¯s suppose for the sake of argument that my refusal is genuine, as you put it. That is the end of your project, then?¡±


    I don¡¯t want it to be. There has to be some other way ¨C of course ¨C ¡°You¡¯re hardly the only person in the country who could be the expert I need.¡±


    ¡°There are maybe a hundred with the qualifications that would justify their testimony. But you also need someone who believes in what you¡¯re trying to do. Who will take you seriously despite your age. Who won¡¯t pry into your history with the Blackthorns. Who is prepared themselves to deal with the publicity. That, I think, would be rather harder.¡±


    My heart sinks. I would have reached that conclusion myself, given long enough to think the idea over, but hearing her say it still hurts. ¡°Is there anyone?¡± I ask, trying not to sound as desperate as I feel. ¡°Do you know someone?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not in touch with more than a handful of other Malaina experts; I have major philosophical differences with most. And those I do know are¡­ not inclined towards altruism.¡±


    It doesn¡¯t surprise me that Electra¡¯s contacts would be like that. Though then again, she is more altruistically-inclined than she¡¯d ever admit. Unless I¡¯ve badly misread her, of course. I hate this self-doubt that seems to infiltrate my every thought where she¡¯s concerned.


    ¡°Are you saying it¡¯s impossible?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    I¡¯m running out of patience for her tests and games. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. What are you suggesting I should do?¡±


    ¡°If I were in your position,¡± Electra says slowly, ¡°I would ask what I could offer Electra in exchange for her help.¡±


    Oh. Oh. That¡¯s what this is.


    ¡°Be careful,¡± says Edward. He doesn¡¯t need to say that; I am well aware of the perils of negotiating with Electra.


    But it can¡¯t hurt to try. Not when the alternative is failure. ¡°Well then,¡± I say, trying not to sound too frustrated. ¡°What can I offer you in exchange for your help?¡±


    Electra pauses for a long moment and studies me carefully. ¡°There are various tests I would like to carry out in relation to your anomalous magic. I would like permission to do so.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask about them earlier,¡± I say. ¡°I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s a reason.¡±


    She nods. ¡°Some of them may cause you physical and emotional pain. Some of them may require you to trust me more than you do. But I will not do anything that would cause long-term damage.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± says Edward immediately.


    ¡°I believe,¡± Electra says, an edge to her voice, ¡°I was talking to Tallulah.¡±


    ¡°And Tallulah would never agree¡­¡± Edward trails off as he sees the look on my face. ¡°Tallulah. Tell me you¡¯re not mad enough to consider this.¡±


    I don¡¯t, because I can¡¯t. Because I am mad enough. The idea of letting her hurt me to see what my strange magic does has no appeal whatsoever, of course. But is it a price I can contemplate, for making a real difference to the world. For justice.


    ¡°You can¡¯t ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward. This is my decision.¡±


    ¡°And as your best friend, it¡¯s my duty to prevent you from making decisions this awful.¡±


    The way he says that reminds me of his father, and not in a good way. He has no right ¨C I take a breath, try to see things from his perspective. ¡°Okay,¡± I say, choosing my words carefully. ¡°You can persuade me that it¡¯s a terrible idea. But if I¡¯m still not convinced when you¡¯re done, you don¡¯t get to control my decision.¡±


    He grimaces and hesitates.


    ¡°I know you don¡¯t trust Electra. I¡¯m not asking you to. I¡¯m asking you to trust me to make my own decisions.¡± I realise as I say it that it¡¯s asking more than I thought it was. There¡¯s still been something fragile about our relationship since I chose to keep Elsie¡¯s secret from him. And now I¡¯m asking him to trust me as if that never happened. ¡°Please?¡±


    ¡°On one condition,¡± says Edward. ¡°If you do it, and it goes wrong, I get to say I told you so.¡±


    I laugh, more relieved than I¡¯d ever admit. ¡°Deal.¡±

 126. The Beginning of the End

    Electra grants us permission to have the resulting conversation in a room that doesn¡¯t contain her with characteristic good grace, and so Edward and I make our escape. This conversation being what it is, we don¡¯t speak until we¡¯re safely in a meeting room and Edward has drawn out privacy wards.


    ¡°I shouldn¡¯t even have to explain this,¡± he says.


    I grimace. I can¡¯t let Edward make my decisions for me, and I won¡¯t give up on the project if there¡¯s a reasonable alternative. The question, of course, is whether Electra¡¯s proposed alternative is remotely reasonable. I bite my lip to prevent myself apologising. This isn¡¯t something I should be guilty about.


    ¡°You¡¯re considering giving Electra free license to experiment on you, knowing that you¡¯ll get hurt and with only her word that it won¡¯t be permanent.¡±


    ¡°If she wanted to permanently hurt me, she could have done it a thousand times over by this point.¡±


    It¡¯s his turn to grimace, but he can¡¯t deny my point. ¡°This is different, though. You have to know what she¡¯s capable of. Stars, how do you even know she¡¯d actually be trying to figure out what the anomaly rather than just ¨C well, just torturing you for her own amusement?¡±


    This time I¡¯m the one forced to concede; I can¡¯t quite say the words she wouldn¡¯t do that and believe them.


    ¡°Are you really willing to subject yourself to torture for the sake of your project?¡±


    He¡¯s right. He¡¯s obviously right. So why am I hesitating to answer?


    If it is genuinely an experiment, if it gives results that could help explain the anomaly, that could be worth it on its own. If Electra is telling the truth, whatever happens won¡¯t leave me with lasting trauma (well, not any more than the lasting trauma I already have).


    If I can trust Electra. That¡¯s what it comes down to, isn¡¯t it? Stars.


    But if she¡¯s been manipulating us all along for some diabolical scheme, it doesn¡¯t make any sense for it to just be this¡­ not unless¡­


    Not unless whatever she has planned relies on me believing that a situation that is very obviously not okay is okay, to prevent me from having an active episode or entering an anomaly-fuelled flow state until it¡¯s too late.


    That is a possibility I can¡¯t rule out.


    ¡°Tallulah. I am not letting you ¨C ¡°


    ¡°What were the terms of our deal?¡±


    He sighs. ¡°Please, Tallulah. I don¡¯t want you to get hurt. I don¡¯t want worse to happen.¡±


    I can¡¯t be angry at him when he says that. But that doesn¡¯t mean I¡¯m going to give up just because he wants me to.


    Though I could give up because it¡¯s a sensible thing to do and the alternative is mad.


    Or¡­ I¡¯ve been thinking of this the wrong way, haven¡¯t I? Black and white. Take Electra¡¯s offer or don¡¯t. It¡¯s not quite that simple, is it?


    ¡°You¡¯ve had an idea, haven¡¯t you?¡± Edward says. ¡°Why do I get the feeling I¡¯m not going to like it?¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re not,¡± I say. ¡°But if it goes wrong, you can say you told me so.¡±


    Edward laughs bitterly.


    ¡°Two hours,¡± I say to Electra. ¡°With Edward watching. If either of us asks to stop a particular experiment, that experiment stops. And you share your findings with us afterwards.¡±


    She narrows her eyes. ¡°What makes you think the terms are negotiable?¡±


    I try not to let my doubt show. Or the fact I still don¡¯t know what I¡¯ll do if she turns my proposal down. ¡°The fact you¡¯re even offering me terms rather than either refusing to help me or experimenting on me without my consent.¡± That came out more sarcastically than it was meant to. I normally have better self-control than that, but she and Edward between them have made me too uncertain.


    Electra¡¯s lips twitch in amusement. ¡°Very well. Your terms are¡­ difficult for me to work with, to say the least. I will accept Edward watching provided he agrees not to interfere ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do I not get a say in this?¡± Edward protests half-heartedly.


    ¡°No,¡± says Electra. Mostly to see the look on his face, I¡¯m pretty sure. ¡°And if you intend to back out of experiments, how do I know I¡¯ll even get any useful results?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d only do that if one of us thought I was in genuine danger.¡±This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    ¡°You won¡¯t be,¡± says Electra.


    ¡°And I¡¯m supposed to just¡­ believe that?¡±


    Electra blinks lazily. ¡°That¡¯s the core of the problem, isn¡¯t it? My word is not sufficient for you. You don¡¯t trust me.¡±


    The idea that she¡¯s criticising me for that when the mistrust is directly caused by her own actions is absurd. I have to fight to not let that overwhelm me. ¡°And you want me to?¡±


    She shrugs. ¡°If I wanted to cause you harm, if I wanted to betray you, I would already have done so.¡±


    ¡°So you need us alive,¡± Edward says. ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean you¡¯re not using us.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, then. In this hypothetical scenario where I am manipulating you for purposes of some scheme which does not serve your interests¡­ what do I gain from this?¡±


    ¡°Information about the anomaly,¡± says Edward at once.


    ¡°I thought that would go without saying,¡± Electra responds, but Edward¡¯s point is a good one. If we don¡¯t trust Electra, then we don¡¯t want her gaining that information. Even if she knows far too much already.


    ¡°It is highly relevant,¡± Edward says.


    ¡°So you refuse to let me gain this information?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± says Edward, at the same time as I say ¡°Not necessarily.¡±


    It¡¯s probably one of the first few rules of negotiation to agree a position within your own faction first so as not to appear divided. Edward and I have not done a good job of that. We share a look of annoyance at both of us.


    The problem is that I¡¯m not sure we can reach an agreement. Edward doesn¡¯t care about the project the way I do. Oh, he agrees it¡¯s a good thing to do in theory, and he¡¯ll support me, but in his mind a choice between giving it up and giving Electra as much as she wants is no choice at all.


    Whereas for me¡­ I¡¯m not convinced it¡¯s a good idea. Not at all. But it¡¯s at least an idea worth considering, worth negotiating over. And in the end it¡¯s my decision, not his, however much he protests.


    But, I realise, the consequences of his telling me not to do it and my doing it anyway¡­ would that be a betrayal, in Edward¡¯s mind? Quite possibly.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I want you to share the results with us as well,¡± I try.


    ¡°That I can accept,¡± says Electra. ¡°Provided that I do not decide it is too dangerous for you to know.¡± It¡¯s a mark of how thoroughly she¡¯s impressed the dangers of magic on us that even Edward doesn¡¯t object to that. He¡¯s still less than happy, though. ¡°But if you still don¡¯t like that, allow me to suggest an alternative. Tell your father.¡±


    I blink a few times. Edward does the same. Then he says ¡°Thank you. I believe I shall.¡±


    ¡°Edward, we agreed ¨C you know the consequences of him finding out about the anomaly ¨C ¡°


    He ignores me and gets to his feet, crosses the room to the door. I realise that what I¡¯m feeling is what he felt himself just a minute ago. With decisions like this that affect both of us so deeply, neither of us has the right to act without the other¡¯s full agreement.


    Which means the project dies here.


    I¡¯m just bringing myself to accept that when he pauses with his hand on the doorknob, turns, and says ¡°Unless, of course, you agree to help Tallulah without any of this experimentation business.¡±


    Stars. I can¡¯t work out if that¡¯s madness or brilliance. Probably both.


    ¡°One day,¡± says Electra, ¡°I will learn to stop underestimating the pair of you. That day is not today, it seems. Very well. Tallulah, I don¡¯t suppose you¡¯ve had a chance to look through the papers? Finding the right case may be challenging, and it¡¯s best if I have some influence over that.¡±


    Edward flashes me a triumphant grin. I blink a few times. What just happened? What was Edward thinking? What was Electra thinking? ¡°I haven¡¯t been able to look through the papers yet,¡± I manage to say, my voice mechanical. ¡°But I have them here, if you¡¯d like to start now.¡±


    I can¡¯t work out how much of that interaction was real. Was Edward actually prepared to tell his father about the anomaly to spite Electra, or was he planning to blackmail Electra all along? Was Electra bluffing when she suggested Edward tell his father, and why did she concede immediately?


    Electra shakes her head. ¡°I have other things to be working on.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m leaving tomorrow ¨C ¡°


    ¡°We can make this your holiday project, then. I want you to have found a good lawyer who¡¯s committed to the project and analysed the¡­ three most likely cases to succeed? Yes. Bring me reports on those three by the day after you return.¡±


    Well. That should stop me getting bored over the holiday, at least.


    ¡°And Edward, you know what I expect with regards to your own project?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he says, without removing his hand from the door.


    ¡°Then may your Holy Days be blessed, and may you walk under starlit skies until we meet again.¡± The traditional well-wishing sounds strangely out of place coming from Electra of all people.


    ¡°Likewise,¡± says Edward stiffly, and opens the door.


    I get to my feet. ¡°May you walk under starlit skies until we meet again,¡± I say. I don¡¯t know whether I mean it or not, but it feels like the right thing to say.


    We get out of the corridor before I can¡¯t restrain myself any longer. ¡°Edward. What did you just do?¡±


    ¡°I saved you and your project. You¡¯re welcome.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t ¨C you can¡¯t just ¨C ¡°


    ¡°You were prepared to risk everything for it as well. We just have different ideas of which risks are acceptable.¡±


    I grit my teeth. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have tried to go ahead with that idea without your agreement. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    Edward studies me for a second before deciding that my apology is genuine. ¡°You¡¯re forgiven. Just don¡¯t do it again.¡±


    I can¡¯t quite promise that. And I think he can tell from my silence. So I don¡¯t dare ask him to not do it again either. Instead I ask ¡°If Electra hadn¡¯t agreed¡­¡±


    ¡°I would have told him,¡± Edward says at once. ¡°My initial intention was to do that regardless. When she suggested that¡­ that¡¯s how they suck you in, Tallulah. Each step seems so reasonable and small, and you could just come clean instead but that would make things harder¡­ and then before you know it you¡¯re doing unspeakable things for them.¡±


    That makes a disturbing amount of sense, actually, coming from the perspective of someone already guilty about keeping secrets from his father and very much not convinced that Electra has good intentions. ¡°And the way to defeat that is to come clean as soon as you realise what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°Precisely. It just occurred to me that instead I could get you what you want without its price, so¡­¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I say, finding to my surprise that I mean it. ¡°Just¡­ a bit of advance warning might be appreciated next time?¡±


    Edward laughs. ¡°I¡¯ll try. But the situation might not always allow it. In the meantime¡­ we seem to have a free afternoon and evening. The last one we¡¯ll have together for a while. What would you like to do with it?¡±


    It hits me then: I¡¯m leaving tomorrow. Leaving the place that has somehow become the closest thing I have to a home. Leaving my friends. Leaving Edward.


    Stars. A mad part of me wonders if it¡¯s too late to take him up on his offer of staying with him for Holy Days. But I couldn¡¯t do that to my dad.


    ¡°Can we just pretend to be normal people for once?¡± I ask.

 127. On Politics

    We start by tracking down Elizabeth and Robin. That isn¡¯t too difficult a task: they¡¯re both present at lunch. There¡¯s an air of finality to the meal. We¡¯re all keenly aware that it¡¯s the last lunch we¡¯ll have together this year.


    Elizabeth hands us envelopes labelled with our names and makes us promise to not open them until the Day of Gifts. I feel instantly guilty: I¡¯ve tracked down a present for my dad, but haven¡¯t thought to find anything for my friends. I¡¯m not the only one, either, judging by Robin¡¯s uncomfortable look as she accepts her envelope. Edward seems quite unbothered by it, naturally.


    ¡°What were you planning to do this afternoon?¡± I ask when an ebb in the conversation arises.


    ¡°I have to finish packing,¡± Elizabeth says, ¡°sorry.¡±


    She¡¯s the only one, apparently: Robin finished her packing this morning, and Edward seems unconcerned by it. Knowing him, he keeps his things permanently packed in case he needs to flee the Academy to escape some mysterious peril.


    That makes things a bit more awkward; I can imagine how Robin would feel about it just being her, me and Edward. She shrugs, though, and says ¡°Nothing in particular. Why, were you thinking of doing something together?¡±


    ¡°I ¨C yes. If you want to.¡±


    ¡°Sure. What did you have in mind?¡±


    I had not thought that far ahead. I assumed someone else would have an idea. ¡°Uh¡­¡± I glance at Edward for help.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t mind having another look at your progress on that ritual-work project of yours,¡± he says.


    I should have realised that would happen. ¡°I was thinking something a little more relaxing,¡± I say, trying to keep a stern tone despite my urge to laugh.


    ¡°You mean that discussing magic isn¡¯t relaxing?¡±


    ¡°Not for normal people,¡± I say. ¡°And you agreed we could pretend to be normal people.¡±


    ¡°Tallulah, you do know I have no idea how to pretend to be normal, right?¡±


    This time I do give in and laugh. ¡°What do normal people do with their free afternoons together, then?¡± I ask.


    There¡¯s a long moment of silence.


    ¡°We could¡­ get a meal together?¡± Robin tries.


    ¡°Eating here is something we do all the time anyway,¡± I point out.


    ¡°And given Tallulah is somewhat recognisable going out in public doesn¡¯t seem like it would end in a particularly normal way,¡± Edward adds. ¡°Speaking of which, I should ask my dad about getting you some disguise enchantments ¨C not the best way of doing things, of course, but assuming you want to maintain your normal appearance here the only alternative is you learning to magically modify your own appearance. And that¡¯s difficult magic, and easy to mess up if you¡¯re learning ¨C it would take a good few months before you were good enough to do it without thinking ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Edward,¡± I say.


    ¡°Oh. Right. But you see my point?¡±


    I nod. ¡°We could go to the market ¨C oh.¡± I remember what happened on our last group trip to the market: Elsie unlocking her oracular powers and Edward nearly having an active episode. And besides, I don¡¯t want to run into Amara with company. I still haven¡¯t worked out what to make of her or everything she told me; I¡¯m just hoping that it''s what I need to help Elsie and that neither Blackthorn will find out about the secrets I¡¯m keeping from them.


    ¡°So anything that involves interacting with anyone outside the Academy is out,¡± Robin summarises. ¡°There¡¯s the caf¨¦, I suppose¡­ or we could just go for a walk in the gardens?¡±


    ¡°If it¡¯s not too cold or wet,¡± I agree. ¡°That would be nice.¡± I still feel as if I haven¡¯t taken the time to appreciate the Academy¡¯s beautiful gardens properly. But between the weather and everything I¡¯ve had to deal with this term, I can see why.


    Edward shrugs, which I take for agreement.


    ¡°That¡¯s sorted, then,¡± says Robin. Then she pauses before asking: ¡°Is discussing politics suitably normal?¡±


    ¡°Depends whether you¡¯re just sharing your thoughts or whether you intend to try and get information out of me,¡± Edward says. ¡°The latter won¡¯t work, incidentally, because I don¡¯t have privileged information.¡±


    Robin raises her eyebrows sceptically but says nothing.


    ¡°Is there any news on the negotiations with traditionalist parties?¡± I ask.


    ¡°None that I¡¯ve heard,¡± says Robin. Apparently she spent a while staring at the crowds in the Central Ring just before coming here. Not much has changed since I fought my way through them, as far as I can work out from her account. The group of reformist protestors has grown, but nothing has escalated in concerning ways. And if there have been official statements, Robin missed them.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I suddenly realise something: on a day like today, Lord Blackthorn should have been mixed up in those negotiations or dealing with the protest or otherwise buried in work. Instead, he was meeting me at the Archive. Was I really that urgent a problem? What would have happened if we hadn¡¯t been able to reach an agreement?


    It¡¯s not a comforting thought. ¡°What do you think of the protests?¡± I ask to cover it up.


    Robin shrugs. ¡°People are always going to protest when they don¡¯t get what they want.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not that simple,¡± Edward objects. ¡°And it¡¯s dangerous to think it is. Understanding the public mood is important. What I want to know is what Ariana Carling is doing right now.¡±


    ¡°Trying to put together a coalition of her own, I suppose,¡± Elizabeth says.


    ¡°That¡¯s practically impossible, though,¡± Robin says. ¡°Without the King¡¯s Party they¡¯d need every other one to agree. And the traditionalists would never do that.¡±


    ¡°Stop me if this is a stupid question,¡± I say, ¡°but what¡¯s preventing the King¡¯s Party from forming a coalition with a reformist party instead of a traditionalist one?¡± That seems like the best possible solution from my (admittedly na?ve) viewpoint.


    ¡°In theory, nothing,¡± says Edward. ¡°In practice, everything. There¡¯s a large traditionalist faction within the King¡¯s Party that would never accept it, and besides all the small reformist parties have been steadfast behind Carling.¡±


    That¡¯s about the response I would have expected if I¡¯d spent enough time thinking about it. Part of me is still disappointed for some reason, though.


    We talk about the situation a little longer. Elizabeth is a fan of Ariana Carling, apparently, and voted for the United Reformists. She and Edward debate the merits of Reformist policies for a while. It¡¯s surprisingly civil, and they at least manage to agree that the Reformists should concede the election and focus on becoming a strong opposition to whatever new government is formed.


    Elizabeth leaves to resume packing once we¡¯ve all finished eating, leaving me alone with Edward and Robin.


    ¡°You know,¡± Edward says, ¡°for someone who was so keen to talk about politics, you¡¯ve been surprisingly quiet about it yourself.¡±


    Robin gives him a long searching look. ¡°I¡¯m from a Siaril family. You know the problems that can cause when it comes to speaking your mind on politics.¡±


    Because families like Robin¡¯s have no land of their own, and because their seats in Parliament are unelected, they¡¯re reliant on the King¡¯s favour to maintain influence. And that means expressing political views too different from the monarch¡¯s can be dangerous. The arguments Edward made earlier were almost textbook King¡¯s Party line; I wonder how much he actually believes them.


    ¡°I do,¡± Edward says. ¡°But I was under the impression that you were not on good terms with your family and had no intention of involving yourself in politics.¡±


    ¡°You know as well as I do that people like us will never be able to escape politics, however much we¡¯d rather devote ourselves to other matters.¡± Robin¡¯s tone is light, but I can still feel a sudden tension between her and Edward.


    And she¡¯s said the wrong thing. ¡°People like us?¡± Edward repeats. ¡°You think we are the same?¡±


    Robin grimaces, realising her mistake. ¡°Not exactly, no. But there are obvious similarities, are they not?¡±


    ¡°Certainly. But the comparison you are attempting to draw is invalid. You could quite easily escape politics if you wanted to, I believe; I could not.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I was thinking ¨C I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°Apology accepted,¡± says Edward, but his tone suggests otherwise. ¡°You know, I don¡¯t believe I want to walk this afternoon after all. Tallulah, you and Robin go without me.¡±


    And suddenly I¡¯m caught in the middle of whatever this is, without even knowing what it is. I don¡¯t want to abandon either of them. I don¡¯t want to have to choose between them. What is Edward¡¯s problem? It¡¯s something to do with the idea of Robin being involved in politics ¨C


    Of course. It¡¯s exactly that. If she¡¯s involved in politics, it must mean she has her own agenda. One that might not fit with what Edward wants, one that might involve using him. It means she can¡¯t be trusted. Can¡¯t be a friend.


    The worst part is that I¡¯m not even sure he¡¯s wrong.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± Robin repeats. ¡°I haven¡¯t ¨C I do genuinely like you and want to be your friend. I¡¯m not ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Do you mean to tell me that your family hasn¡¯t asked you to spy on me and cultivate my acquaintance for their benefit?¡±


    Oh. Never mind. If that¡¯s the case, then he¡¯s definitely right to be at least wary. And one look at Robin¡¯s face is enough to make it clear that it is.


    Stars. What happened to normal? And what ¨C why ¨C


    ¡°I should go,¡± Robin says. ¡°Enjoy your walk.¡±


    ¡°Wait ¨C ¡° I say without thinking.


    ¡°Why should I?¡± she asks. ¡°Unless Edward can still be friends with me despite this ¨C ¡°


    Part of me wants him to say yes. I understand why he doesn¡¯t. ¡°At least ¨C at least explain. How long ¨C why ¨C ¡°


    Robin hesitates for a long moment, and then composes herself. ¡°You¡¯re right. I owe you at least that much. I do genuinely like you both. I thought ¨C Edward and I ¨C but that doesn¡¯t matter. It was¡­ only a few weeks ago? Grandmother reached out to me ¨C said I could be forgiven my¡­ mistakes. They¡¯d be delighted to welcome me back to the family.¡±


    ¡°If you told them about me,¡± Edward concludes bitterly.


    She nods. ¡°I¡­ I didn¡¯t want to. But how could I not? Stars, I must be the country¡¯s most incompetent spy.¡±


    Edward shrugs. ¡°It was the obvious thing for them to try. I should have realised sooner.¡±


    They both sound calm about it, but I know them well enough by now to know that neither of them is.


    ¡°You do understand that they¡¯re not doing this because they care about you?¡± Edward says. ¡°It¡¯s just that you¡¯re suddenly useful to them, because you were close to a Blackthorn.¡±


    The past tense is what gets to me. That suddenly Robin is the enemy, at least to Edward. How easily he can just see things a different way.


    I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t look at the girl calmly confessing and not see the girl I¡¯ve spent so much time with the last few months. I¡¯ve never been as close to her as Edward or Elsie ¨C maybe not even Elizabeth ¨C but I was still happy to call her a friend. And I believe her when she says that she didn¡¯t want to do this, that she really likes us and wants to spend time with us.


    Besides, I know something of what family can do to you.


    ¡°I¡¯m not a fool,¡± says Robin acidly. ¡°I knew the consequences of my decision when I made it.¡±


    ¡°Did you,¡± Edward replies flatly. ¡°I wonder what your family will think of you when they learn of this.¡±


    ¡°I expect that ¨C ¡° Robin stops talking and flinches. I can imagine how she must be feeling right now. In her efforts to keep her friendships while winning back her family, she might just have lost both.


    I feel a surge of pity. I want to help her. I don¡¯t want to watch her lose everything.


    But Edward is my best friend. And Edward doesn¡¯t forgive easily.

 128. A Walk

    I stay with Edward and hate myself a little for it. I¡¯m wondering if it¡¯s possible for him to reconcile with Robin or if I¡¯m being hopelessly optimistic in wanting this to be patched up and forgotten about. I don¡¯t think he feels betrayed by Robin, at least, not in the way he would if it were me.


    But perhaps that¡¯s because he never really trusted Robin to begin with.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± I ask.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡±


    He¡¯s not, not entirely. But I don¡¯t know what I can do to help, other than just being there.


    ¡°Sorry you couldn¡¯t get your normal afternoon.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not your fault,¡± I make myself say. ¡°And besides, I should have known better than to think it would actually work out that way.¡±


    ¡°Normal is overrated anyway,¡± Edward agrees.


    I don¡¯t quite know whether I agree with that.


    ¡°Shall we take that walk, then?¡± he asks after a few moments¡¯ silence.


    ¡°Yes, let¡¯s,¡± I say. ¡°I just need to get my coat ¨C ¡°


    He and I remember at the same moment that the coat is in my dormitory. The dormitory I share with Robin. After a moment¡¯s pause Edward nods jerkily. ¡°Meet by the door in five minutes?¡±


    That gives me just enough time to fetch my coat, and definitely not enough time to have a proper conversation with anyone I might happen to encounter while doing so. Edward knows that as well as I do. ¡°Five minutes,¡± I agree.


    Robin is nowhere to be seen, though, when I reach the dormitory. I suppose she must have realised I might come here. And I can understand her not wanting my company right now, when she doesn¡¯t know if I¡¯ll feel the same way as Edward.


    I don¡¯t know if I feel the same way as Edward. Logically, I understand his reaction very well. She was giving information about him to her family; she could have tried to influence him for their gain; she couldn¡¯t be trusted. But I also understand why she did it. Understand only too well how she must be feeling right now.


    If there¡¯s one thing I¡¯ve learnt in these last few months, it¡¯s that nothing is ever as simple as I wish it would be.


    My coat is easy enough to find; I¡¯m pleasantly surprised to find I had enough sense to not pack it yesterday. I wriggle my way into it and find my way back downstairs. Edward is waiting for me, exactly where he said he would be.


    ¡°I wish this hadn¡¯t happened this afternoon,¡± he says as we step outside. ¡°I wanted our last afternoon together to be¡­ not like this.¡±


    I flinch as the cold hits me, then remember that I know warming-spells now and quickly cast one. ¡°Me too,¡± I say when that¡¯s done. ¡°I¡¯ll miss you.¡±


    ¡°You could still stay with me,¡± Edward offers, setting off along a path that leads to the lake.


    I shake my head. ¡°My dad ¨C ¡°


    ¡°I know,¡± says Edward. ¡°I guess I¡¯m selfish enough to want you to stay anyway. I guess you¡¯re not.¡±


    I can¡¯t quite work out whether he¡¯s complimenting me or not. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± I agree.


    ¡°Well. If you change your mind, or if things go badly, just show up outside Blackthorn Manor ¨C wait, it might be a bit difficult to get in ¨C I should ask my dad if he could add you to the ward network ¨C ¡°


    I doubt Lord Blackthorn would be willing to do that for me. ¡°I¡¯m sure I¡¯ll be fine. But it¡¯s good to know that ¨C if I¡¯m not ¨C I have somewhere to go.¡±


    It really is. Even if I¡¯d appreciate that somewhere not involving throwing myself on the mercy of the Blackthorns.


    ¡°I¡¯ll miss you too,¡± Edward says after a moment.


    ¡°It¡¯s only for a few weeks. Until after Holy Days. Then we¡¯ll be back here.¡±


    ¡°A few weeks can feel like a long time. Let¡¯s enjoy this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°Yes. Let¡¯s.¡±


    We¡¯re most of the way to the lake by now. It looks very different in daylight, but I still can¡¯t help remembering that night. Walking round in circles with Elsie. Comforting her. Her revealing her secret. Part of me wishes that I hadn¡¯t decided to take a walk that evening. Then I wouldn¡¯t be torn between my friends the way I am now.


    Then Elsie would be alone. Then I¡¯d never be able to teach her everything Amara told me about her power. It¡¯s better this way, even if it¡¯s harder for me personally.


    It¡¯s a still, cloudless day, though bitterly cold. The sunlight plays on the lake¡¯s surface, creating beautiful patterns. If I were a poet, the sight would be an inspiring one; as it is, I can only admire it.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°It always amazes me that places like this can exist in the very centre of the City,¡± says Edward. ¡°How quiet it is, so close to the country¡¯s heart.¡±


    ¡°Your manor doesn¡¯t have luxurious gardens like this?¡± I tease.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been there twice,¡± Edward points out.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t exactly get a grand tour on either occasion.¡± Though I do know at least one of its secret entrances (and I have no doubt there are more).


    ¡°Excellent. Now I have an excuse to invite you over sometime. But no, it doesn¡¯t have luxurious gardens like this. Space is precious in the Inner City; only the King gets a private garden.¡±


    And students of magic. Then again, the King does own the Academy building and grounds, so you could argue that this is the King¡¯s second private garden. We¡¯re walking in the King¡¯s gardens. I wonder how many kings in centuries past have walked the very paths we¡¯re walking now. Did they admire the lake as much as I do now? Did they come out here to escape endless royal duties?


    ¡°It is lovely,¡± I agree. ¡°I wish I¡¯d come out here more often.¡± If I¡¯m serious in my resolution to improve my physical fitness, this seems like a good place to do it. Next term, I suppose.


    We¡¯ve stopped by unspoken agreement and are studying the lake. Other than the sparkle of reflected sunlight, the water is utterly still. It hasn¡¯t frozen, which surprises me; it certainly feels cold enough for that.


    ¡°Clockwise or anticlockwise?¡± Edward asks.


    ¡°Does it make a difference?¡±


    He shrugs. ¡°Not unless you¡¯re doing ritual-work, or certain types of warding. Anticlockwise it is.¡± He turns, and we begin to circle the lake.


    I suppose direction could be important when it comes to wards: it might well matter which way round a particular circle or pattern is drawn. And what little I know of ritual magic implies that the same would hold there. ¡°What kind of difference does it make, then?¡± I ask.


    ¡°In wards, it¡¯s a common way of specifying whether the effect is meant to be applied to the interior or exterior of the ward-boundary. The usual convention is anticlockwise for exterior, clockwise for interior.¡±


    I frown. ¡°How can a ward effect act on the exterior of the boundary? Wouldn¡¯t trying to cast something affecting all the world except what¡¯s inside the circle¡­¡±


    ¡°End badly?¡±


    That, from what I know of magic, is an understatement. I nod.


    ¡°In general, yes. But there are certain wards ¨C those preventing something from entering the interior, mostly ¨C that technically act on the exterior of their boundary even though they don¡¯t actually influence the entire world. And there¡¯s also the possibility of interacting with other wards meaning that the area of effect is considerably smaller.¡±


    ¡°Makes sense,¡± I say, and for once I mean it.


    ¡°Good.¡±


    ¡°And¡­ rituals?¡±


    ¡°That is¡­ more complicated. Largely because of the wider variety of applications of ritual magic. I know six examples of rituals in which direction is important, and they have little relation to each other. If you want me to explain some elementary theory of ritual-work ¨C ¡°


    ¡°Maybe not,¡± I say quickly. That might be taking things a bit too far. ¡°But¡­ wouldn¡¯t Alchemy have been a more natural example? We¡¯ve actually done things in class where the direction in which you stir something has an effect.¡±


    ¡°Alchemy would be a more natural example if it was a discipline of magic. It is not.¡±


    Ah, yes. I¡¯d forgotten Edward¡¯s opinions on alchemy. I can understand why he¡¯s thinking of it that way ¨C it uses the natural magic of alchemical ingredients rather than the power of a magician, and in fact you can be a quite competent alchemist without being a magician at all. But that¡¯s not a good reason to dismiss it as a subject altogether.


    I¡¯m not well-informed enough to argue that point with Edward, though, and even if I was I wouldn¡¯t want to spend our last afternoon that way. Instead I search around for a lighter conversation topic. ¡°So you¡¯re not going to the Feast of Stars,¡± I say eventually. ¡°Are you still going to celebrate Holy Days with¡­¡±


    ¡°With Elspeth. My dad will be going to the Feast, of course. And most of the servants take the time off and go home to their families. Elspeth doesn¡¯t, though. She doesn¡¯t have family of her own. So it¡¯s just her and me.¡±


    I¡¯ve got the impression Edward and the housekeeper are close from seeing them together, but that puts it in a new light. With Lord Blackthorn as busy as he is, she must have done most of the work of raising him. And they celebrate Holy Days together, just the two of them. Stars, she must be almost a mother to him.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you won¡¯t be entirely alone,¡± I say.


    ¡°Me too.¡± Something twitches in his expression, but if he was about to ask me to stay again he thinks better of it. ¡°What about you? Your dad, and¡­¡±


    I shrug. ¡°Just the two of us, most likely.¡± We haven¡¯t had large family gatherings for Holy Days in years: my mother was an only child and her parents are both dead, and while I know Dad has a large family I haven¡¯t seen any of them since I was seven or eight. ¡°It¡¯ll be¡­ nice.¡±


    Awkward, is the word that really comes to mind. But I can deal with awkward. It¡¯ll be a welcome break, to be honest, after some of the other stuff I¡¯ve dealt with recently.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad,¡± says Edward in a tone that suggests he knows full well what I actually mean.


    There isn¡¯t much I can say to that, so we keep walking in silence. It doesn¡¯t take us long to complete our circuit of the lake. Our most exciting encounter is with a pair of ducks, their feathers fluffed up against the cold; they give us a cursory glance to see whether we¡¯re about to feed them, and upon discovering we¡¯re not lose interest immediately.


    ¡°I was wondering,¡± I say at the same that Edward begins ¡°So¡­¡±


    We look at each other and laugh for a second. ¡°You first,¡± he says, regaining his composure.


    ¡°I was wondering,¡± I repeat, ¡°what you¡¯re planning to do with your free weeks. And you?¡±


    ¡°I was just going to ask if you wanted to do another lap of the lake, or explore a different part of the gardens.¡±


    ¡°Something different sounds good,¡± I say, without mentioning my reasons: I would rather not be haunted by the memory of that night with Elsie.


    We set a course for the nearest ornamental hedges, and Edward answers my question. ¡°Extracurricular study, mostly,¡± he says. ¡°There¡¯s a few books in the family library I¡¯d like to reread now I have practical experience, and I¡¯ll find some more spells to teach myself. Probably a bit of political stuff, as well, once my dad finds time to send me information about the election. And that probably counts as a family secret, sorry.¡±


    ¡°I wasn¡¯t going to ask,¡± I say, truthfully. I am curious about it, but I¡¯m also aware of what just happened with Robin. Edward is my friend, not my source of political secrets.


    He still gives me a sceptical look. ¡°I¡¯ll find ways to keep busy,¡± he concludes. ¡°And you?¡±


    I shrug. ¡°I still need to look through the papers I got this morning. That¡¯ll take a while. And then I need to convince my dad that I know what I¡¯m doing and it¡¯s a good idea.¡±


    ¡°Do you? And is it?¡±


    I grimace. ¡°You had to ask the difficult questions, didn¡¯t you? I don¡¯t know, but I know it¡¯s worth doing.¡±


    He holds my gaze for a moment, then looks away and shrugs. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°Do you think I am?¡± I ask, because I don¡¯t want the lingering doubt.


    ¡°You had to ask the difficult question, didn¡¯t you?¡± He laughs, but I¡¯m not amused. After a moment¡¯s pause, he replies ¡°It is worth doing, yes. But¡­ I wish it didn¡¯t have to be you.¡±


    So do I, in some ways.

 129. Last Evening

    We walk for a while longer, and manage to have fairly light-hearted conversation. Before we know it it¡¯s mid-afternoon, and we wander down to the caf¨¦. I persuade Edward to let me pay for my own hot chocolate and muffin without too much difficulty. It¡¯s more expensive than I¡¯d like, but it¡¯s not as if there¡¯s a vast range of other places to get snacks nearby.


    I was expecting it to be quiet, with so many students gone for the holidays. But while there are only a handful of students here, the Academy¡¯s research staff are still at work and still in need of drinks and snacks. I feel slightly out of place among this group of customers.


    Somehow the conversation has turned to Edward giving me recommendations for extra studying I should do over the break. I feel as if I should be taking notes. But I (hopefully) remember enough about oracles to tell Elsie; my mind should have space for a little more information.


    Edward thinks I should focus more on theoretical study; he continues to argue that the way we¡¯re taught here neglects far too much important theory and he wants to make sure that I at least know that theory. I suspect that a more theoretical method of teaching would in fact be worse for most of the class, but I¡¯ve long since given up trying to argue that sort of point with Edward.


    And personally I do like to have the theoretical understanding where possible, so I take his advice seriously. It¡¯s a pity that the Academy doesn¡¯t let students at our level take library books home for the holidays, though I can understand why given the rarity of some of its collection.


    That reminds me that I still need to return the history books I have out at the moment, and that given how early I¡¯ll have to leave tomorrow morning it has to be done today. Edward readily agrees to let me go back and do that. His cousin Rosie is on duty today, apparently, and he¡¯s been meaning to talk to her for a while.


    It¡¯s easy sometimes to think Edward¡¯s family is just him and his father, but that reminds me that he has more relations than that even discounting his mother. ¡°Don¡¯t they want to see you for Holy Days?¡± I ask.


    He shrugs. ¡°Not enough that they¡¯d turn down invitations to the Feast of Stars for my sake.¡±


    Turning down an invitation to the Feast of Stars isn¡¯t something you can do lightly, even if you don¡¯t want to go. It¡¯s seen as an insult to the King, and you don¡¯t insult the King and expect there to not be severe consequences. So I can understand their decision.


    ¡°But surely when Rosie was younger ¨C ¡°


    Edward shakes his head. ¡°She¡¯s gone every year since she was¡­ eight, I think? When it comes to children it¡¯s their guardians¡¯ choice whether or not they go.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a child this year, though.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have a title in my own right, yet, which means I don¡¯t merit an invitation.¡±


    ¡°And Rosie does?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± says Edward. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure my dad asked the King to not invite me as a favour.¡±


    I can¡¯t help laughing. ¡°Only your father would ask the King for that sort of favour.¡±


    He laughs too. ¡°I suppose it is a little unusual. But then we¡¯ve always been an unusual family.¡±


    That is quite the understatement.


    We finish our drinks and cakes and stroll back to the Academy. It¡¯s already beginning to grow dark, not that that should surprise me: it¡¯s the darkest month of the year, with the solstice only a week or two away.


    ¡°Library?¡± Edward asks as we step inside and wipe the mud off our boots.


    ¡°Library,¡± I agree. ¡°Via my dormitory to fetch the books in question.¡±


    Edward waits outside while I go in to fetch the books. This time, Robin is there. I was prepared to snatch a few words before, but I¡¯m not now.


    She¡¯s staring out of the window, leaning on the sill, but she turns her head as she sees me come in. ¡°Tallulah,¡± she says.


    ¡°Robin. I ¨C ¡°


    The books are exactly where I left them, sitting on top of my trunk. It would take me less than twenty seconds to pick them up and leave. Edward knows that. And he knows that with Hannah, Aisha and Lucy all home for the holidays already there¡¯s only one person I could be talking to in here.


    I¡¯ll have another chance this evening, when we can have a proper conversation. When I know what I want to say to her.


    I pick up the books. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t reply.


    I turn and leave. Less than twenty seconds. Stars. I hate myself.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    If Edward notices Robin or wonders if I saw her, he says nothing about it. We walk the rest of the way to the library in companionable silence.


    Rosie is in fact on duty, and she smiles when she sees us. It¡¯s probably more for her cousin than for me, but I still appreciate it.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to return these,¡± I say, setting my stack of books down on the table with regret. I have finished them all, but giving up books is never fun. Especially when I know I can¡¯t just get a whole new stack to replace them. Well, I could, but I¡¯d have no more than a few hours to read them.


    ¡°Certainly. Are you both going home for the holidays?¡±


    I nod. ¡°Tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Stop pretending you don¡¯t have my movements memorised.¡±


    Rosie laughs. ¡°It¡¯s called making polite conversation.¡±


    ¡°Oh, is that what it is?¡± Edward asks flatly. ¡°I never would have guessed.¡±


    ¡°I suppose with a role model like your father, you couldn¡¯t be expected to know.¡±


    I have to choke back a laugh.


    Edward makes no attempt to defend his father¡¯s honour, instead changing the subject. ¡°Well, since I don¡¯t in fact have your movements memorised¡­ plans for Holy Days? Other than the Feast, I suppose?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sticking around here, I suppose. Even during the Feast I have permission to come and take the readings I need ¨C it has to be every single day for the data to be useful.¡±


    Rosie is researching hyperspace, I recall. And what better place to do it than in one of the country¡¯s best magical research institutions which also happens to contain a hyperspace library?


    ¡°Well,¡± Edward says. ¡°If you get some time when you¡¯re not doing that, I happen to know a manor that¡¯ll be largely unoccupied and someone living there who¡¯d want company¡­¡±


    She rolls her eyes. ¡°Yes, I¡¯ll come and visit you at some point. You¡¯re not going to die of boredom, don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. How¡¯s the research going?¡±


    If I¡¯d asked something like that I¡¯d be hoping for a ¡°very well, thank you¡± or a half-hearted complaint about some obstacle encountered along the way. Edward is different, though, and Rosie knows it. I¡¯m lost within her first two sentences.


    And by the time they¡¯ve been discussing the intricacies of hyperspace for a minute or two, I¡¯m feeling distinctly out of place. Would he even notice if I left him to it? It feels wrong being this close to a library and not going in. I could just look, even though I can¡¯t get anything¡­


    ¡°Tallulah,¡± says Edward.


    I notice I¡¯ve taken several steps across the room towards the library door. And that he hasn¡¯t forgotten my presence; of course he hasn¡¯t.


    ¡°You know what¡¯s going to happen if you step inside that room, don¡¯t you?¡±


    The way he phrases that seems like a threat, though of course it logically can¡¯t be. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find that it¡¯s half an hour later and you have a pile of half a dozen books, none of which you have time to check out and finish. There¡¯s no point, Tallulah. The library will still be here after Holy Days.¡±


    I glare at him. But he does raise a good point. ¡°I may have to get out of here to avoid the temptation, in that case.¡±


    ¡°You can just say you¡¯re bored by our technical discussion. I don¡¯t mind. Unless Rosie does?¡±


    Rosie gives me a playful glare. ¡°No. Not at all.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± I admit. ¡°Sorry.¡±


    With their permission, I make my escape. Edward promises to find me in our usual study room when he¡¯s done talking about hyperspace, so I go straight there. And realise that I don¡¯t have anything to study. I don¡¯t even have the Malaina papers with me.


    But I¡¯m a magician, and anything can be a tool for a magician to practice with.


    When Edward arrives five minutes later, I¡¯m trying to write by moving my quill through magic instead of physically touching it. It¡¯s not going particularly well; my eight-year-old self would be ashamed of the untidy scrawl I¡¯m producing. But I¡¯m still bizarrely proud of my work. It¡¯s like I¡¯m learning to write for the first time all over again.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never actually tried that,¡± he says. ¡°But you¡¯re doing well.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I ask, sceptical.


    ¡°Yes,¡± he insists. ¡°How many times do I have to tell you, Tallulah?¡±


    ¡°I bet you¡¯d get it perfect first time.¡±


    ¡°With Siaril, sure. But Malaina would be harder, I think.¡±


    I still feel jealous of him being multi-School. If Malaina isn¡¯t suited to whatever he¡¯s trying to do, then unlike me he can just switch to Siaril and do it with far more ease. ¡°Prove it,¡± I say.


    And that ends up being how we spend the next few hours, give or take a break for food: playing around with various forms of magic. It takes Edward less than ten minutes to have nearly flawless handwriting with a levitated quill, and me considerably longer. Even when I finally have it working, I¡¯m pretty sure that coming close to losing control would ruin it.


    ¡°This is a good exercise, actually,¡± Edward says. ¡°I¡¯ll have to practice with it some more for refining precision and control.¡±


    And he shows me a few of his own exercises, mostly other applications of the General Animation Spell. A particularly tricky one is trying to make a marble balance on the edge of the table, just past the point at which it would fall without the spell. And then trying to use magic to catch it as it rolls towards the edge. Even he struggles with that sometimes, at least when casting using Malaina.


    I fare better than I expected, though. I understand the basic principles of these sorts of things by now. It¡¯s not something that can be done by pure willpower; it needs calm and focus and absolute confidence. That¡¯s the state of mind you need for a lot of magic, I¡¯ve learnt.


    It¡¯s just the anomalous sort that¡¯s different.


    I hate the feeling that there¡¯s nothing I can do about working out what the anomaly is and what it means for the future. I¡¯d like to at least be able to prepare properly for the inevitable next disaster to come my way.


    Not now, though. This is my last evening here, and it¡¯s for enjoying the fact that I¡¯m a magician and I have an amazing best friend. And that whatever bad things have happened in the last few months, plenty of good has come out of it as well.


    It¡¯s eight and thirty after noon when we decide to leave the study room. We confirm the plans for tomorrow. I can¡¯t take the Portal Network ¨C Edward offers to pay the charge on my behalf, and I¡¯m tempted to accept, but being Malaina means that the only way I can travel by portal is to have Electra come with me. And I don¡¯t really want to ask Electra for any more favours after our last encounter.


    So that means I¡¯m stuck travelling the old-fashioned way: a day and a half¡¯s coach ride and a night at an inn along the way. Edward is worried about me travelling alone, and if I¡¯m honest so am I, especially knowing there¡¯s a good chance that the coach¡¯s passengers will recognise me. But it¡¯s not like I have a vast array of better options. And I can¡¯t spend forever afraid of going out in public. I¡¯ll be fine.


    The coach leaves from the City¡¯s South Gate at eight after midnight, and the South Gate is a forty-five minute walk, so I¡¯ll be rising early again. That¡¯s not a problem for Edward, who volunteers to walk with me to the gate. I accept his offer, and with that we leave each other for the night.