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 – “

“You know the rules, Isabelle. You can’t have the Proceedings of the – “

“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 – “

“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 – 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 – we’re – researching alchemical weapons, aren’t you? And you’ll need to test them, and – “

“Who told you that?”

“I – Mrs Marling. From the Administration Department. But – how – “

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 – oh! You’re lying to her – to the Administration Department – 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 – 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 – “ 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 naïve, 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 – I don’t know – “

“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.