Edward offers to come with me to visit Electra that afternoon, but I turn him down: I don’t think she’d be pleased by it, and besides given that his abominable behaviour is likely to be a topic of discussion he probably shouldn’t be present. I feel very alone standing in front of her office door, and I can’t help remembering the lost and lonely girl who first met Edward here a couple of short months ago.

She would never have been able to cope with the conversation I’m about to have. I don’t know if I can. But I’ll have to: I’ve come too far to give up or break now. I let myself take a single deep breath before knocking.

“Thank you for waiting. Miss James will see you shortly.”

I’d forgotten she’d enchanted her door, but it still doesn’t startle me as much as it did when I first knocked on it. I’m so much more used to magic now than I was.

I opt to avoid Edward’s strategy of pelting the door with marbles until she answers; in hindsight I’m surprised that she wasn’t harsher on him after that. Instead I wait, counting seconds in my head. I get to fourteen before she opens the door.

“Tallulah,” she says. “I suppose this is about the letter I received from your mother in this morning’s post.” She doesn’t look pleased, though I can’t tell whether she’s angry with me or my mother.

“It is,” I say. “But I – I can come back later, if this is a bad time.”

“It is a good time, in fact. Do come in.”

I enter. The décor hasn’t changed since I was last here: black, black and more black. I’m on edge already, especially when she offers me the same seat I sat in when she nearly stabbed me. Just because I’ve somehow forgiven her that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable with the reminder. Still, no choice but to sit down, I suppose.

“We should begin by making sure we both have the same understanding of the situation,” says Electra, lowering herself into her own black armchair. “Do you have a copy of the letter your mother sent you about this?”

I fish it out of my satchel and hand it to her. She smooths it out on the desk in front of her and skims through it. When she looks up again, I see to my horror that she’s smiling, and her lips are twitching with what might be supressed laughter. “I suppose Edward and your mother have met, then?”

“I – yes – but – “ Is she implying that Edward deserved the horrible things she said about him? “He didn’t – she – “

Electra cuts me off with a lazy wave of her hand. “I quite understand. Whatever Edward’s talents, tact is not among them, and in such a sensitive position… it does not surprise me that your mother took offence at the things he told her. Well, here is the letter that I received from your mother.”

She passes two pieces of paper over: one is the letter I received, now that she’s finished reading it. I tuck that back into my satchel and focus on reading through the other. It’s about what I expected: I am to have no further contact with Edward Blackthorn and am to be transferred to a different class to guarantee this; my mother is to be informed of the people I associate with and whether they are likely to be a negative influence on me; my teachers are to send her monthly reports on my progress and attitude; she is to visit me every two weeks, and expects the Academy to pay the portal toll for such visits; if possible I am to be moved into advanced classes and take the qualifying examination as soon as I am judged ready; she is to be told when I leave the Academy grounds and in whose company.

“Well,” Electra says, once she’s given me enough time to take all that in. “How am I to proceed?”

Stars, I hate her for that question. I scan through the list again, but not one of these instructions is something I could willingly obey. I can’t have her knowing everything I’m doing, there’s no chance of me taking advanced classes if even Edward can’t, and as for giving Edward up we’ve already established that is impossible.

But this is an ultimatum, she’s made that much clear. This, or leave the Academy altogether. And even if I fought her on that, got my dad’s support or made the decision myself after Holy Days, it would mean the end of any pretence at a cordial relationship between us.

I’d try to negotiate, but I don’t think there’s a compromise to be made here. She won’t yield on any of this, and stars help me neither will I.

Electra sits there, watching me, waiting.

I have my answer; she’s driven me to it. I will not obey these instructions, I will not leave the Academy, and if that’s the end of our relationship then so be it.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

But the question of what to say now is not the same one. If I tell Electra that, what will she do? Would she help me in subverting my mother’s wishes, or inform her immediately of my intentions?

I think back to my isolation, to everything that she did then, and decide that I have no better option than to trust her. “No,” I say. “I won’t do it.”

She smiles, slowly and deliberately. “Good,” she says. “That was what I hoped you’d say. There was no prospect of these instructions being enforced regardless, of course: half of them are beyond my power, and I would be going against my duty of care to you to attempt to enforce the other half.”

She was testing me. Stars, of course she was testing me. Even when she’s helping me, even when I’m reliant on her help, I hate her.

“The problem, though, is what our response is to be. Without the visitation clause we could have between us kept up the pretence that you were obeying the instructions while you did no such thing, but as it is…”

Is she saying she would have helped me forge official Academy documents to lie to my mother and hide my life from her? Stars.

“As it is,” I say, “we have no choice but to openly refuse her. Which means that she will attempt to have me withdrawn from the Academy.”

I know my mother well enough to understand that her threat is very much not empty: she will rid this place of its influence on me one way or another.

“She will fail,” Electra says calmly.

“After Holy Days there’s nothing she can do,” I say, “but before that… she is still my guardian. Jointly, with my father. And… he loves her. He’s seen my studying here leading me to isolation and trial for instability. I think she could convince him.”

I hope I’m wrong, but the fact is that I can’t rely on my father. Not after he never even noticed me Falling until it was too late.

And if my mother does convince him that withdrawing from the Academy is in my best interests, there’s not a thing I can do about it.

“You forget, Tallulah. You’re not alone; you might have made yourself many enemies, but you have powerful allies too.”

“Even if Lord Blackthorn can make this problem go away… I’m not sure I’d like his method of doing it, and I don’t particularly want to end up any more in debt to him than I already am.”

“Quite understandable,” she says. “Though some level of entanglement, as you’ve discovered already, is unavoidable if you wish to remain friends with his son. I was not referring to him; I was referring to myself.”

That startles me. I hadn’t thought of her as either powerful or my ally. But I suppose she does have a lot of influence over the Academy – she has to, just by the fact she still has a job here despite her usual behaviour – and its Malaina students in particular. And whatever I may think of her, she is trying to help me.

I’m not sure she’s much of an improvement over Lord Blackthorn, though.

“If it helps,” she adds, “I give you my word that your parents will not be harmed physically through my actions. And any emotional harm will be only due to making them face the consequences of their own decisions, for you and for themselves. So, would you like my help?”

There’s only one sensible answer. She just wants the satisfaction of hearing me say it. “Yes,” I say through gritted teeth.

She smiles once more. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Unless you can make the world forget about what happened in the riot…”

“That may be a little beyond my powers,” Electra admits. “How about this?” She pulls a scrap of paper from her robes and hands it to me.

It’s a form allowing me to borrow restricted books from the Academy’s library for independent study, with her signature. There are two books listed in the appropriate place in the form: A Guide to Making and Breaking Wards for Beginners, and – is that –

It is. A True History of the Thalian Crisis of the Year 900. There must only be a dozen copies in existence: even nearly a hundred years later, many powerful people don’t want the story it contains made public due to the sheer depths of corruption it reveals their ancestors to be capable of. I had no idea there was even a copy in the Academy.

It’s a historian’s treasure. I suppose Electra must have realised my interest in history after seeing my book requests to Edward when I was in isolation. And the other book is one I know Edward has been desperate to get his hands on for months (his dad wants him to focus more on enchanting for now).

The perfect gift a teacher could give the two of us. Which, since this is Electra offering it, makes me immediately suspicious. “What’s the catch?”

She shrugs, holding out her empty palms in a gesture that does nothing to reassure me. “No catch. You and Edward have had a tough couple of months, and I think you deserve a little compensation. Of course I do have evidence proving that signature is a forgery.”

Why – I take a second to think before opening my mouth and realise it’s a precaution against us handing the form to the authorities and using it to get her in trouble for illicitly giving us access to restricted books. “Noted,” I say.

But she has to have an ulterior motive. Electra does not do us favours like this out of the goodness of her heart. I just can’t work out what it is. The best way to understand someone’s actions is first to understand their motivations. I don’t understand Electra’s motivations, I never have. “What do you want?”

“Tallulah,” she says, smiling, “I only want the best for my students. Take the form, if you want it.”

I place my hand on it and hesitate. Stars. Maybe her motivation is just to watch me suffer through wondering what her motivation is. Is this some plot against us? It can’t hurt to take this, even if we don’t use it, can it? And then I can talk about it with Edward, who might actually be able to understand it.

I slide the form off the table and into my satchel. “Thank you,” I say, standing to leave. “Really.”

“You’re most welcome. Do let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”

I swing my satchel over my shoulder and walk over to the door. It’s locked. Stars damn her. I take a deep breath, turn and face her. “The door is locked,” I say. “I can’t get out.”

“I must have activated that part of my wards,” she says. “Forgive me.” She reaches over to the ivory tiles behind her and presses down on a couple of them. “You may leave now.”

I try the handle, and the door swings smoothly open. I’m free.