Fallen Magic

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 – 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 – maybe seventy – 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 – “

“Mildred dropped all charges against me – “

“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.

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 – “

“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 – “

“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 – “

“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 naïve.”

That is a valid point, though again the delivery hurts.

“I’m not being naïve. 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 – I’m not sure I’m – “

“It’s for the good of the Academy – “

“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 – 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 – which from the perspective of someone sufficiently prejudiced against Malaina would probably seem quite reasonable – 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 – “

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 – “

“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.