The last two weeks had unquestionably been the worst of Mildred’s life, and that included those after her mother first became ill. She’d at least managed to keep it together in lessons, and crying in the endless newspaper interviews might actually have helped her cause, but appearances only counted for so much.

Her life was broken, however well she could hide it.

And she’d never realised how much work went into running a household. The servants were well-trained, of course, but they still needed someone to sign off on the daily accounts and give reports of Mother’s health to and tell them which meals to make. And there was no-one left but Mildred to do that now. Lucia was still only twelve, far too young to be troubled with all of this.

Mildred was far too young to be troubled with all of this.

She did what she could, though, trusting the servants where her own understanding was lacking. Mother had taken a sharp turn for the worse after hearing the news, and the doctors talked in ominous whispers about her.

Mildred had the authority now to make them tell her everything, but she didn’t have the strength. She wasn’t ready for a new storm to hit before she had weathered this one. She didn’t know if she could weather this one.

Her father had never been as important at court as he liked to believe, and even if he had been all friendship was fickle there. No-one came to wish Mildred well or to offer her help, and none of the King’s advisors replied to her pleading letters.

That included Lord Blackthorn. Mildred had been prepared for a lot of responses when she made her desperate move: flat refusal of her offer to save his son’s friend in exchange for her father, threats of consequences for her as well, an attempt to negotiate… what she hadn’t been prepared for was complete silence.

That in itself was a negotiation tactic. She knew that, and she knew that making another entreaty would be an admission of her weakness, but still she longed to write to him.

The verdict was guilty, as she’d expected. Say what you liked about Lord Blackthorn, he knew how to put together a good case, and despite her father’s lawyers’ claims there was not a shred of evidence it was fake.

And he was still silent. She was running out of time: Tallulah’s hearing was on Monday, and the sentencing could happen whenever the King chose.

He summoned her to the palace that Friday. As a convicted traitor her father had been stripped of all his titles and powers, and they now passed to her as his heir. Mildred had dreamed of becoming a noble in her own right for years, but not like this. Never like this. She would have sold any title and power to be plain Miss Cavendish, daughter of Lord Cavendish who would never do anything as foolish as commit treason – and worse, be caught.

She went nonetheless, because she couldn’t wish the last weeks away. She knelt before the throne and begged for her father’s life.

The King didn’t outright refuse her. If Mildred were in his position, she would have passed sentence there and then. Perhaps the fact he did not was a sign he was considering sparing her father. Perhaps she was grasping desperately at anything that looked remotely like hope.

Mildred left the Round Palace a Lady of the Kingdom of Rasin and member of Parliament. She had no position on any committee, of course, and was expected to nominate a proxy until she had finished her studies and was ready to enter politics.

Four different courtiers struck up conversation with her as she left, all hoping to be that proxy. So now that she had something they wanted, they wanted to talk, then? Mildred told them all the same thing: if they wanted her allegiance, they should save her father’s life.

Mildred was considering taking up her own seat, in truth. It was her only chance at the power she needed if she was ever going to make her family name mean something again, though it would likely come too late for her father. She would have to look into what accommodations the Academy could make for her; she was hardly the first young magician to play politics alongside her studies, after all.

The sentence was not passed that day, and nor did she hear from Lord Blackthorn. She’d heard he had no regard for such things as weekends, but the King did; it was likely no sentence would be passed until Monday.

And that was when the hearing was.

Tallulah wasn’t a bad girl, really, other than her unfortunate choice of friends. She was smart enough to have an intelligent conversation with and refreshingly unpolitical, and certainly not unstable. Once Mildred had worked out how she thought, she was surprised it took that long and that much provocation for her to snap.

She didn’t want to have to condemn Tallulah to life in an asylum, if the hearing found her unstable.

But having issued a threat, backing down from it would be condemning her father to death.

If those were her options, the choice was an easy one.

She barely slept that night; she spent her Saturday catching up on the homework she’d missed – the work was far below her usual standards but it shouldn’t be too hard to persuade the teachers that she’d had a rough week and it wouldn’t happen again.

With the exception of Electra, who was if anything going out of her way to make Mildred’s time in her classes as miserable as possible. She was called on for the hardest questions that none of them could answer (except sometimes Edward Blackthorn, who sat back in his chair giving her the most infuriating smirks) and picked to help with Electra’s demonstrations, which frequently involved being the target of mildly unpleasant spells.

The sleep deprivation was starting to affect her by Sunday morning. Perhaps she should have taken a sleeping draught after all, but she’d seen what they did to Mother; though they weren’t the cause of her illness, they meant she was barely ever awake enough for conversation now.

Mildred would manage, though; it wasn’t like she had a choice. She visited her father that day, dressing in her finest clothes and stalking down the prison corridors as if filled with disdain for her surroundings. That wasn’t too hard to fake.

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Even when the guard withdrew to give them a few moments of privacy she didn’t let herself crumple and become a girl again.

“Hey, darling,” he said, sounding exhausted. “How are you?”

“I’m surviving,” said Mildred shortly. This could be the last conversation they ever had, and she wasn’t going to waste it on meaningless small talk like so many other conversations. “Why did you do it?”

He shrugged. “Money was good.”

“Money,” she said, letting a little of what felt like a bottomless well of anger and frustration seep into her tone. “You betrayed your country for money.”

“There’s a new treatment for wasting sickness,” he said. “I’ve heard amazing things about it. They tried it on a dozen patients, and half of them were completely cured.”

“Oh,” was all Mildred could find to say. “But the money…” She’d seen the accounts, and she knew now that they weren’t as rich as she’d always thought; nearly their entire income was absorbed in the upkeep of the house and their savings were not substantial.

“A small fortune,” he told her. “It was only a few little things, and we’d have all we needed. It was never supposed to end like this. I’m so sorry, Mildred.”

Oh, stars, Mildred hated herself for every scornful thought. Her father wasn’t foolish, he wasn’t shallow, he never really wanted to betray his country. He was just trying to save Mother. “No,” she whispered, all thoughts of dignity forgotten. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ll still get the money,” he said. “There was a clause in the agreement that said if… well, if this happened, they’d pay you the full amount, no conditions.”

Maybe he was a fool after all. Because there was no way that Sirgal or whatever faction within it had employed her father would just hand a vulnerable girl the money she needed without asking anything in return. Because there was no way that a girl whose father had just committed treason for money could acquire a large sum of it without anyone noticing something was amiss.

Because if she accepted that money, she would be complicit in his crime.

“Thank you,” she said instead of any of that. “I’m glad that at least this won’t be for nothing.”

After news like that there was no chance of sleep. The question of what to do if her father’s employers came calling circled her mind for hours. She couldn’t accept without raising suspicion, and nor would she commit treason of her own. But the thought of just handing the information over to the authorities that had convicted her father and would likely condemn him was horrifying. Could she bargain with them, telling them everything she knew about her father’s contacts in exchange for the money Mother needed?

Or could she just refuse to have contact with them and find the money some other way? There must be opportunities in Parliament to make money. Maybe she could even sell her proxy; some nobles wouldn’t blink at that price for a seat in Parliament.

Stars, was there any way she could save both of her parents?

Mildred hired a messenger the next morning, and instructed him to wait outside the Round Palace and to find her at the West Road Courthouse instantly if there was news of her father’s sentence, even if the hearing was in progress. He demanded an extra fee in exchange for that. After the previous day’s revelations she winced at the cost, but it was worth every copper if it would let her make the right decision today.

She rode to the hearing in her family’s carriage. That was no additional expense, since the coachman’s wages and the horse’s upkeep had to be paid regardless of whether she used them. But perhaps if she gave up the carriage and hired one when necessary, it would save silver. It would only be another year or so before she learnt to teleport, anyway.

She stepped gracefully down from the carriage, taking the coachman’s offered arm. It was only a couple of steps up into the courthouse, but she was intercepted by a messenger before she reached the door.

“Lady Cavendish?” he asked, pronouncing it in the strange way the City’s commoners spoke.

“That is I,” she replied coldly.

“I have a message for you from Lord Blackthorn.” He held out a small envelope sealed with the raven crest of that lord’s family.

It was all Mildred could do to keep her composure and not snatch it out of his hand. She extended her own imperiously instead and waited for him to hand it over. He did as expected, but then stayed and waited.

Of course, Mildred thought, and fished in her pocket for a silver coin. It should have been obvious what he was waiting for.

There was no privacy to be had in the courthouse, and she didn’t trust her self-control enough to open it in public, so she resorted to locking herself in its bathroom to open the envelope.

I have the power to fulfil your side of the bargain you propose and am prepared to do so. But if Tallulah does not walk free today, your father will die.

Despite herself, she laughed bitterly. How did he manage to make it seem as if he was the blackmailer in their relationship, such as it was?

She knew what she had to do. She folded the letter away in her robes and stalked into the courthouse. She was five minutes early, but the courtroom itself was mostly full, only the judge’s bench unoccupied. Tallulah sat opposite her in the defendant’s box. It was the first time they’d met since that day in the library. Mildred didn’t meet her eyes.

The row at the back reserved for witnesses was half-full, with five seated there. Lord Blackthorn was thankfully absent, but both Edward and his cousin were present, and of course Electra in her role as the Academy’s Malaina expert. There was also a short red-headed man in a doctor’s coat. The surprise, though, was Elsie.

Mildred knew this had been hard on her friend, since she also got on well with Tallulah. Refusing her pleading had made her feel cold and cruel. Heartless. Like Lord Blackthorn. But she hadn’t known Elsie would be here.

Did she know something? Was this a trap that would inevitably lead to the revelation of what she had done? She hadn’t broken any laws - the worst she could be charged with was a minor violation of hyperspace safety regulations - but it wouldn’t do her tattered reputation any favours.

“Ready?” asked her lawyer.

“Oh – yes,” said Mildred, recovering a little of her composure.

“It’s okay,” he told her. “We’ll make sure no-one else gets hurt.”

She’d almost forgotten the story she’d sold him of her terror of the Malaina girl. In her defence it had been quite the few days. “I’m glad to hear it,” she said. Though he wasn’t going to like what she did next.

Mildred passed the couple of minutes of waiting by watching the clock tick by. Finally a herald threw open the doors and proclaimed “All rise for the Honourable Justice Martina Carson!”

They rose. Martina Carson must have been at least seventy, but she was still spry and energetic if the speed at which she marched across the room was anything to judge by. “Be seated,” she announced, obeying her own order. “This court is now in session on the matter of the report brought against Tallulah Roberts by Mildred, Lady Cavendish, under the Malaina Stability Law.”

The hearing began with the formalities. “You are Tallulah Alice Roberts, of the city of Crelt?” asked the court clerk.

“I am,” replied Tallulah. She spoke softly; she was clearly nervous. No wonder.

“Do you understand the case that has been brought against you?”

“I do.”

“Are you satisfied with your legal representation?”

“I am.”

The clerk nodded, satisfied, and turned to Mildred.

“You are Mildred, Lady Cavendish of the Kingdom of Rasin?”

“I am.”

“Do you stand by the report that you have made under the Malaina Stability Law?”

“I do not.”

The silence that followed those words was deafening.

“You… do not,” repeated the clerk. He’d clearly been expecting these questions to be the usual formalities to be got out of the way in a few minutes before the hearing proper began.

“That is correct. I do not.”

“Am I to take it that you are withdrawing that report?” asked the judge, clearly not happy with this.

“That is what I am doing.”

“You understand that you will be liable for a fine for wasting court time, and that Miss Roberts will then be entitled to sue for compensation?”

Mildred did know that. It was going to be a lot of money, money she really needed for the new treatment. But it was worth it for a chance of saving her father. “I do.”

The judge sighed. “Then there is no case to be answered. This court is no longer in session.”

And that was that.