Fallen Magic

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 – 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.

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 – even though she was trying to blackmail him, betrayal is the only word for his response – and she must know that the way to really hurt him is to hurt Edward – 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 – 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 – “

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 – 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 – “

“Do you?” she replies, raising her eyebrows.

“Well,” I amend hastily, “Edward told me – “ 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 – “

“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 – you see that, don’t you?”

I do, in a way, but it still stings a little. I say nothing.

“And somehow – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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 – 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.