Fallen Magic

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 – “

“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 – wait, never mind. This is how you’ve felt every time I’ve kept stuff from you, isn’t it?”

“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 –

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 – 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.