Fallen Magic

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 – 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.

I spend that morning’s break with Elizabeth. I do like Edward – a lot – 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 café. 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 – 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 – “

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 – 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.

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?”

“I – “ another sob – “T-Tallulah?”

That’s Mildred’s voice, isn’t it? Stars. “Mildred. I – “ 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 – 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 – a Raven,” Mildred answers, her sobs less obvious now. “Anything I tell you, you’ll just pass on – “

“I wouldn’t,” I insist. “Mildred, I’m not here to spy on you. I just – I want to help. I know there’s not much I can do, but – “

“Do you really?”

“Yes, of course – “

“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 – “

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.

“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 – yes – sort of – “ I’m not helping my case here – “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 – “ 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 – “ 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 –

I can’t do this – I can’t even feel my tears beginning to fall, it’s as if I’m watching someone else crying –

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.”

“Can we talk?” asks Elsie as I’m packing up my things after a largely-futile attempt at conjuring grains of sand. “In private – if you don’t mind – “ 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 – 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 – we could get her some kind of a gift – 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.