“Can we talk about something else?” Elsie asks.

It would do all of us good to be distracted from the tests. But as soon as I have that thought I remember that our last attempt to distract ourselves ended by creating new tension and awkwardness. I’d much rather talk about the tests than about yesterday.

“Such as?” asks Robin.

“…the weather is nice today?” Elsie tries.

That breaks the tension, and we all laugh.

“Seriously?” Elizabeth asks. “The best you can come up with is the weather?”

“Look. Her and Edward went with politics this morning. That’s definitely worse.”

“There are more interesting things you can say about politics than about the weather,” I say in my defence.

“Politics is not small talk.”

“Are we looking for small talk?” Robin asks. “Or are we looking for a conversation deep and meaningful enough to distract us? I don’t know. What do normal girls talk about?”

“Boys they like?” Elsie suggests innocently.

Elizabeth, Robin and I all wince. I really do not want to have to actively keep up the pretence that Edward and I are dating. Robin obviously doesn’t want to talk about her crush on a boy who’s supposedly in a relationship with her friend. Elizabeth I’m not sure about, though.

“We can talk about boys you like,” I suggest.

“It’s not fair if I’m the only one doing it, though. The point is that we all get to tease each other.”

That is probably how normal girls do those things.

“Fashion?” tries Elizabeth. “I’m not really interested in it, but – “

The expressions on our faces make it very clear that none of us have been hiding an interest in fashion.

“At least two of us like history,” I try.

Robin rolls her eyes. “I am not talking about your Thalian Crisis of the Year Whatever-it-was – “

“Nine hundred,” Elsie interrupts. “Wait, did you just imply Tallulah has a copy of the True History – “

Oops. I probably should have expected her to notice the title, even if she wasn’t aware of its significance. And Elsie knows enough history that she is aware of its significance.

“…yeah, I guess,” says Robin. “Why does that matter?”

“Copies of that book are destroyed on sight in Thalia, and its sale or loan is really tightly regulated even in Rasin. How in stars’ names – “

“Edward gave it to her,” says Robin, “presumably.”

Oh. That would be the conclusion she jumped to, wouldn’t it? I guess it’s better than them finding out that it was Electra, and that I’m still not entirely convinced that wasn’t an elaborate plot to get Edward and I into trouble. “…maybe,” I say, technically not lying.

“Never mind that,” Elsie says, “can I borrow it?”

“Um,” I say. The Academy’s library books are clearly labelled, so it’ll be clear to Elsie where the True History came from once she gets a closer look. “I would, but… I’m not exactly supposed to have it. We could get in trouble.”

I realise belatedly that we’re having this conversation in a public café with not a privacy ward in sight. “Please don’t tell anyone?” I say. I’ll just have to hope no-one was paying any attention to us.

“I won’t,” says Elizabeth. Robin nods.

“Nor will I. I can keep secrets, Tallulah, I won’t let anyone know. Please?”

She looks at me as if she were a puppy. I’m not yet sufficiently ruthless that I’m capable of refusing a look like that.

“Okay,” I say. “After tests, and once I’ve finished with it.”

She breaks into a delighted smile. I feel a stab of guilt. I’ll have to tell her where the book really came from, then. It’s not that much of a problem, just… complicated to explain.

“I wish someone would get me restricted books,” she says wistfully.

It takes me a few moments to parse the implications of that statement, and when I do it makes me a lot less reluctant to explain. I want to see the look on her face when she realises she just implied that Electra and I are –

Yeah, I don’t want to go there.

Somehow, that break actually helps me to recover, but it ends far too soon. It’s raining when we’re ready to leave the café, which feels appropriate for our collective mood. At least Edward isn’t here to cast a rain-shield and look insufferably smug about the fact he’s not getting as soaked as we are. Robin is probably capable of it, but if she is she’s content to suffer with the rest of us.

“It’s not that far a walk,” says Elizabeth, as we huddle in the doorway. “And we don’t want to be late.”

I wouldn’t mind missing this test altogether, but not showing up is an automatic fail. “Yeah,” I say, staring out into the rain. “It’s not pouring, either.”

Am I imagining it, or does the rain intensify as I say that? I should have known better than to tempt fate.

“You two go first, then,” says Elsie. “If you’re so convinced it’s okay.”

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“Delaying won’t make it any better,” Elizabeth says firmly, fixing her gaze on the distant blurry shape of the main Academy building.

“It might ease off, though.”

We laugh a little at her optimism.

“Okay, then,” Elizabeth insists. “The three of us – “

“Don’t drag me into this,” Robin protests.

“The three of us are going now. If you’d rather stay here and risk being late, you’re welcome to.” And she steps out into the rain and marches ahead.

That must be her military discipline talking. I’m thankful for it, in a way: if she weren’t there, I could have very easily talked myself into staying where it’s nice and warm and dry and I don’t have a horrible teacher waiting for me with a horrible test. That is, unfortunately, not an option.

It only takes a minute or two, and the rain hasn’t even had time to fully soak through my clothes by the time we make it inside. We wipe our damp shoes on the doormat, not wanting to incur the wrath of Miss Carr by tracking footprints all over her beautiful clean floors.

We’re two minutes early for the test by the time we’ve climbed the stairs. Everyone except Jake is already waiting outside.

“Lovely weather out there,” says Hannah, giving us a look up and down.

“Delightful,” I agree, deadpan. “I’d have loved to stay out there longer.” It’s not even that far from the truth: getting soaked seems more pleasant than this would be. At least my dread remains vague and ill-defined rather than turning into a Malaina episode. For now. I resist the urge to check with my enchanted bead and just close my eyes and breathe, trying to ignore my classmates’ nervous chatter.

At precisely eleven-thirty, the door swings open. “Come in, everyone,” says Felicity. “Do try not to get my classroom wet.”

We’re not wet enough to drip everywhere, so I take that in the spirit it’s intended as an insult. The class troops inside to discover that Felicity is not alone. A dozen or so people are gathered in the classroom, standing in front of each desk. They’re all about twenty or thirty, and most of them are wearing magician’s robes. I recognise Rosie in one corner; she waves to Edward, and he waves back.

“As you’ll see, we have some visitors today. These are a few of the Academy’s research students, who have kindly agreed to help me assess your abilities, since I believe it is important to give you all enough time to show what you’re capable of and how well you have understood my teaching so far.”

She does have a point there, I suppose. Electra’s test was unusual in more ways than one. I’m more relieved than anything else, though: with so many other people here and with all of us being tested at once, she can’t make my test unfairly difficult.

“Please sit at your ordinary desks, and don’t interact with or try to distract your fellow students for the duration of the tests. Each individual tester will explain your instructions.”

I walk over to my desk, feeling only ordinary nerves. I never thought I’d be thankful for that.

The student testing me is about twenty-five at a guess; he has thick, curly dark hair and is tall enough he has to stoop down to address me. His robes are trimmed with brown lace, meaning he’s Rittome. “Tallulah Roberts?”

“Yes.”

“Mark Wilkins. You’re… Malaina… is that correct?”

“It is,” I say, heart sinking a little. I recognise the early signs of prejudice by now, and I would not be surprised if Felicity deliberately chose him to assess me because of that.

“I see. We will begin with the General Animation Spell.”

Mark Wilkins, if he is prejudiced, is professional enough to not let it get in the way of his task. That fear, at least, was unfounded. He’s harsh but fair, and what he asks me to do is in line with the syllabus (Edward made me memorise it). I manage most spells adequately, though my control of more precise work is shaky at best.

My illusions have improved a lot as a result of the last incident with Felicity. I haven’t been able to replicate whatever state of mind let me do that, and I don’t particularly want to get into situations where that would be more likely, but I seem to have kept my understanding of how to produce near-perfect images.

So when the test ends an hour later, I find to my surprise that I’m satisfied with how it’s gone. I’m not failing. I can do this. I’m a magician. The relief and joy of it is giddying, and I can’t wipe the smile off my face.

The entire class gets lunch together. Say what you like about these tests, they seem to be a bonding experience for us all. I don’t enjoy that for long, though. Elsie and Jake are complaining together about how hard they found some of the questions. Questions that I managed without much difficulty at all.

I know that feeling better than I’d like. It used to happen a lot at Genford. It’s kind of isolating, because it feels mean to say actually, that question was fairly easy, I thought when they’ve been struggling so much. So I don’t talk about how I found the test, and I find myself fading into the background a little.

But unlike every time this has happened at Genford, I’m not alone. Edward is sitting next to me, and if I think the test went smoothly then he must think it was mind-numbingly boring and a waste of his time.

“Is that how practical tests are normally done, then?”

Edward shrugs. “I wouldn’t know. But it would seem to make sense. It’s a more objective system and it allows more to be tested.”

“Then Electra…”

“Is Electra,” he finishes. “What we dealt with is nothing compared to her Magical Combat exams. Rosie took the course, and she says the final test is to fight Electra herself. Your grade is determined by how long you survive.”

I wince. “Is that safe?”

“I imagine even she couldn’t get away with literal murder of her students. Which implies that she’s good enough that she can make it safe.”

That she can keep her attacks precise, non-lethal, even in the middle of intense combat. That whatever her students throw at her, she can maintain control of the fight. “That would make sense.”

“I am not looking forward to taking Magical Combat next year,” Edward says. “I’ve probably been listening to too many of Rosie’s horror stories about it, though.”

“You’re taking Magical Combat?” I say, a little surprised. “I didn’t think you were the type for – “

“I need to be able to defend myself properly,” Edward says. “You should take it, too.”

My first thought is that I am not a fighter, that the class would be utter misery for me. It takes me a moment to realise Edward’s unspoken assumption that I’ll be staying at the Academy for further study after I qualify.

It’s been a long time since I properly thought about what comes after qualifying. I guess part of me was convinced I wouldn’t even make it that far. And I’ve just been surviving, one day at a time.

I need to get my mundane Certificate of Education, and then… law school, that was always the plan for after Genford. Except that plan belongs to the Tallulah who hadn’t Fallen, who was still lying to herself that it was what she wanted. To a girl who doesn’t exist any more.

“What is it?” Edward asks. I’ve been silent, lost in thought, for a second too long to be natural.

“You’re assuming I’ll be coming back to the Academy next year,” I say.

“Well, aren’t you?” he says. “You’re happy here. You belong here.”

“Yes, but…” I realise he wants me to stay. He wants me to stay with him.

“Even if I haven’t converted you into a magical researcher yet, more magicians than otherwise will want to take at least some additional courses. Teleportation, at the very least. And a lot of the others give you professional certifications, which you’ll need if you want to make a living as an enchanter or wardsmith or conjurer.”

Which is the problem. I don’t know if I want that.

I resolved that I was going to change the world. That means politics. And magic is not the best way into politics: while the Royal Magicians do have a large measure of political power, there’s only one Malaina Royal and my chances of becoming the next are absurdly low no matter how good I get. My relationship with Edward would be enough to disqualify me as a candidate in the eyes of the many people who think the Blackthorns already have too much power.

“Mm,” I say. “I’ll think about it.”

“I – “ says Edward. “No. No, I’m being selfish. You need to choose the future you want for yourself, not the one that keeps you with me.”

Says the person who doesn’t have a choice and never has had one.

“Whatever I do,” I say, “whether we end up going in completely different directions or not, I am not going to abandon you. Ever. We’re still friends, even if we share nothing more than that.”

That’s not quite true, though, and I think we both know it.

Maybe I had the right idea before, not thinking about the future. Living in the moment.

“Thank you,” Edward says.