I focus on lessons for a while after my dad leaves, because it’s better than focusing on anything else. I still have Alchemy homework to finish; it’s a rather tedious exercise requiring a lot of referencing textbooks, but it keeps my mind occupied.

It stops me from having to process what’s happening or seriously contemplate what could happen. I’m going to be okay. I’m going to be fine.

Electra doesn’t return until lunchtime, but she brings food, and she’s not alone. I’m surprised to see Elizabeth with her, also carrying a food tray.

There’s only one chair, but I drag the table to a position where I can sit on the bed and eat while Elizabeth sits on the chair opposite. Electra, as is her habit, leans against the wall and watches us.

“Hi,” I say. “Thank you for coming. I didn’t think – “

“I had to come,” Elizabeth replies simply, cutting into her roast beef. “I know what it’s like.”

I say nothing, I just methodically slice my own beef.

“My Fall,” she says. “I’ll spare you the details, but it was… more violent than most. Violent enough people said I could be mala sia. I had to go through much the same process as you are now.”

Yeah. I guess she does know what it’s like. More than I do, most likely: I’ve never seriously hurt anyone in an episode, though that might only be because Electra stopped me.

“And look at me,” she says, setting down her fork to gesture at herself. “I’m still here. Still standing. This isn’t the end, Tallulah. I know it might feel like it, but you can absolutely live through this.”

She’s trying to help, and in a way she is helping. But in another way this isn’t really about me now. It’s about Mildred’s father and about Lord Blackthorn. I think that’s the worst part: knowing that my fate isn’t my own any more. It depends on whether Lord Blackthorn is willing to go against what he believes is best for my sake. On whether Mildred is willing to let me be sent to an asylum knowing I don’t deserve it.

“Thanks,” I say. “What have you heard about – “

“A lot of rumours,” says Elizabeth. “Not particularly flattering to you.”

“What do they say?”

Elizabeth sighs. “The usual things they say about Malaina. You were always a little strange, it was only a matter of time before something like this happened, you would have seriously hurt someone if Electra hadn’t stopped you.”

The worst part is that none of that is wrong. I am dangerous. I would have hurt Mildred if Electra hadn’t stopped me. Yes, Mildred provoked me, but it’s still not okay for me to lose control and lash out whenever I’m provoked.

Even if I get through this, who’s to say it won’t happen again?

I am. I’m not going to let it happen again. No-one is going to get hurt because of me.

Resisting Malaina episodes through force of will doesn’t work, though: even if Electra hadn’t said that back on my first day here, I’d know that it’s just impossible to summon sufficient willpower when the world doesn’t quite feel real.

So I need to find another way. I can work out exactly what causes my episodes and avoid those things or thought processes. Simple, right?

----------------------------------------

Elizabeth leaves as soon as she’s finished eating, after some awkward small talk, but she’s not my only visitor. A few minutes later, just as I’m considering going back to homework, Electra lets Elsie in.

“Hi, Elsie,” I say with half-hearted fake enthusiasm.

“Tallulah,” she says, her voice as raw as I feel. Her eyes are red-rimmed, I notice: she’s been crying. “You’re okay?”

I shrug. “Considering. You?”

She shrugs back and ducks her head to avoid meeting my eyes. “I didn’t think…” she says, “didn’t realise… I should have.”

“Should have realised…” I ask, already knowing the answer.

“What was going to happen. I could see how tough you were finding the whole Mildred thing, and I knew you were Malaina, and I never put it together.”

I sigh. “Elsie, you know it wasn’t inevitable, right?”

She stares blankly at me.

“Just because I’m Malaina and I’m finding things difficult, that doesn’t mean I’m going to have an episode.”

Maybe it does right now. But it shouldn’t. And one day it won’t.

The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

“I told Mildred she was making a mistake,” says Elsie in a rush. “That you’re not dangerous, and she shouldn’t try to… well.”

Of course: Elsie is friends with both me and Mildred, and she doesn’t want us to be enemies. She wants me to be sane and stable and Mildred to not be prepared to pretend otherwise for her father’s sake.

Which can’t be true.

I want to tell her the truth, but Edward advised when he visited me before classes that we shouldn’t spread that story too widely if we want to come to an arrangement with Mildred. She won’t want to make that deal if we’re ruining her reputation.

Like a lot of things Edward says, it makes perfect sense while at the same time going against all my instincts. And besides: would Elsie believe me if I told her? I’m too scared to find out.

“What did Mildred say?” I ask.

“She – “ Elsie’s lip wobbles. I hope selfishly that she won’t cry in front of me, because I’m not in a fit state to comfort anyone right now. “She said – she didn’t want anyone else getting hurt. She was scared that it would happen again.”

“It won’t,” I say, willing myself to believe it. “I promise you it won’t.”

“Swear it by starlight,” says Elsie, biting her lip to hold back tears.

I nod. It takes me a moment to recall the usual phrasing of an oath by starlight. “I swear by sacred starlight, by the light that guides me at night, by all that is holy, that I will never again let anyone be hurt because of my Malaina episodes.”

“Thank you.”

There are many stories of what happens to someone who breaks an oath by starlight. It is said that the stars will never shine for them, that they will walk forever under starless skies. It is said they are cursed and will suffer ill-fortune. It is said that they will die alone and in pain.

I’m not going to break this oath. What would happen if I did is worse than any curse.

I have to learn to never let myself fall again.

“I’ll tell Mildred,” Elsie says. “That you swore by starlight, that you won’t hurt anyone. You’re not dangerous.”

She really believes that, I realise. I gave her a sacred oath, so it must be true.

If only things were that simple.

Electra hovers by the door after escorting Elsie out, watching me. She could help me. She knows Malaina. But… it’s Electra.

I don’t care. I need her help. “How do I stop this from happening again?”

“There’s no cure for Malaina.”

“I know that, but… surely there are ways of managing it?”

“The most effective way to manage Malaina is to identify and resolve its root causes. If you no longer have the problems that led to your Fall, if your life is happy and fulfilling, you will rarely experience episodes.”

“But surely – “

“You’re looking for a shortcut, aren’t you? Some spell that can bring you back from an episode or prevent you from having one? There is none. If you’re serious about what you promised – and I hope very much that you are – you will have to learn, the hard way.”

I didn’t really think there would be a nice shortcut. It was worth asking, though. If she were anyone else I’d ask if she could teach me, but I don’t think being taught how to manage Malaina by a woman who attacked me with a knife is likely to end well.

“That’s what I’ll do, then,” I say, hoping I sound suitably determined.

“I wish you the best of luck,” says Electra, and she leaves, locking the door behind her.

I’m alone.

It’s strange: I like being alone, studying or curling up with a book or just being. I’m perfectly content in my own company.

But something about being trapped in this room, being alone not out of choice but because I’m dangerous, makes me desperately long for someone to talk to. I’d give almost anything to have Edward here talking about his latest magical project, or complaining about teachers, or just sitting and being together.

Instead I sit down at my desk, pick up my quill and draw a sheet of parchment towards me.

What causes me to have Malaina episodes?

I discount being locked in hyperspace; that can be dealt with by simply avoiding hyperspace – much though I’ll miss the library if it comes to that. It’s not the real problem, besides; if I’d been myself when it happened I would have realised that I was never going to be trapped for long enough to be dangerous.

Guilt, I write down instead, about not doing enough to save Mildred’s father. About letting Mildred down. About failing.

Did I fail, though, or did I just take on a task I could never succeed at?

Is there a difference?

I took a philosophy elective at Genford for a while. This feels like one of the questions they’d always ask then. What is the nature of evil? What does it mean to be alive? And now: what does it mean to fail? I quit the philosophy class after a term, because every lesson seemed to devolve into an argument between the ardently religious and the more sceptical (the word heresy was used more than once). The only thing I learnt was that no two people can ever agree on the answers to these questions, and maybe the questions don’t even have answers.

Still, I need to find my own answers now.

My research project wasn’t like a tricky question on a test, where you know there is an answer even if you can’t find it. I’m not convinced there was ever a way to solve that problem. Lord Blackthorn even said so himself: there’s nothing you could have said that would have convinced me.

I don’t know that, though. Maybe – just maybe there was something I could have done –

But realistically? No. There was nothing I could have done. Who am I, anyway? A fifteen-year-old girl, nothing special. Not someone who could persuade the Black Raven of anything. Not someone who should be friends with his son –

No, Edward’s voice screams in my mind, as clearly as if he were here beside me, listening to my despair. Never tell yourself you’re not worthy of being my friend. I say you are, and that’s what matters.

I find myself smiling a little.

That’s something, at least. One thing to cling to. Edward Blackthorn is my friend. I’m good enough for him. Maybe that’s the kind of truth that can help me ward off episodes when they come again.

I write that down in a separate column.

What else? There was the episode I had on the Abbey steps, because – because I wasn’t prepared. I hadn’t touched my notes in a day. If I had been ready – but I couldn’t have expected when I left the Academy that I’d encounter Lord Blackthorn that day. I couldn’t have been prepared for that.

I should have been ready anyway – if I’d worked that day instead of promising Edward I wouldn’t – no. That’s wrong. The work itself was pushing me towards a Malaina episode. I lost sleep because of it, nearly skipped meals, and doing that isn’t healthy. Just being tired and hungry and not quite fully functioning seems to have made things worse.

That’s something I can do, then. Take proper care of myself. I already know Edward will nag me if I don’t, I just have to listen to him more.

Even if there’s no magical shortcut, I can still make things better. I will still make things better.