We don’t study that evening, in the end. Neither Elizabeth nor Robin wants to, and I have to admit Edward has a point. So it’s just me and the True History. I make Robin promise to make me stop reading at ten after noon; even if there is a free period first thing tomorrow, I will need a decent night’s sleep.
It’s seven when I pull the curtains closed and cast a light-spell. The book is six hundred pages long, and I’m about halfway through it by now. When I’m done I’ll have to reread it, taking proper notes and cross-referencing things, but that seems like a bad idea to do when I should be focusing on the tests, I should be revising –
My light flickers. Right. Malaina episode. Lovely. I take a couple of minutes to breathe and recite the first thirty kings of Rasin to myself, and remind myself of what Edward said earlier. Then I start reading.
Someone yanks open my curtain. I don’t look up, I just keep reading. It is the opinion of those who have studied the events in detail that the Thalian Crisis is entirely the fault of the royal family. Yeah, I can see why said royal family don’t want this book being more widely read, even if those implicated are long dead by now.
“…ulah?”
Right. Trying to get my attention. I drag my eyes away from the book. “Yes?”
“It’s ten after noon,” says Robin.
I hate my past self for getting her to do this. Why didn’t I just tell her ten and thirty? That would still get me enough sleep and I’d be able to keep reading a little longer. “Yes, but – “
Robin is laughing. “You made me promise that I’d force you to stop reading. What did you say, again? Physically take the book away from me and lock it somewhere I can’t reach if you have to?”
I did say that, didn’t I? I hate my past self even more. I’m fairly sure Robin won’t actually go through with that threat, but it’s not worth the risk. I snap the book shut before I have a chance to read another word and get sucked back in. “Fine,” I mutter, then “Sorry. I did ask for this.”
“You can thank me when you do really well on the tests because you got such good sleep tonight,” Robin says.
I laugh. “Hopefully,” I say, stowing the True History safely away in my trunk.
“Definitely,” says Robin. At least someone believes in me.
It was, I admit to myself when I wake up, probably a good idea to have Robin do that. I feel refreshed and… if not exactly prepared, then at least as prepared as I’m going to get. I spend breakfast with Edward as normal, decline his offer to start teaching me warding in the free period that starts the day, and return to the True History. I got through another hundred-and-twenty pages last night, and I’m hoping I can finish it today.
It's a very effective distraction technique. Almost too effective, in fact: the next time I’m conscious of checking the time, there are only ten minutes left until Enchantments. I snatch quills and paper to fill my satchel and hope that the pounding of my heart is just because of the rush of making sure I’m ready in time.
No such luck: the enchanted bead doesn’t light up when I channel a little magic into it. Which is a problem. I can cope with these passive episodes easily enough by now, but I need a couple of minutes of calm and quiet. And I don’t have that option right now.
I settle for reciting kings to myself as I jog through the hallway, and make it with three minutes to spare. But I have to make this episode pass before the test starts. Casting normally during an episode is difficult to say the least. I ignore my friends’ greetings, close my eyes and focus on breathing.
The episode doesn’t pass as it normally does. I don’t feel the sense of unreality that means it’s getting worse, but the bead persistently refuses to glow. Why isn’t it working? I have to fix this, I have to –
No. That’s not right. Thinking that way is making it worse, isn’t it?
That’s why. Because of the urgency. Because I was trying to fight the tide rather than ride it out, and that never works.
But realising that doesn’t make the urgency go away. “Edward,” I say, opening my eyes briefly.
He nods and takes my hand. “I’m here.”
His touch, the feeling of his hand in mine, help a lot. Where am I in my list of kings? Lucy the Fair. Alfred the Short.
“Good morning, class,” says Humphrey. “Come in, get yourselves sat down.”
I’m out of time. I have to –
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“Can we just have a minute?” Edward asks. “Please?”
I can’t see Humphrey, but I imagine him looking sceptically at the two of us, trying to work out what Edward is after, before he speaks. “One minute precisely.”
It’ll be enough. I want to count the seconds, but instead I focus on Isabella the Pious. Lucius the Usurper. Alexandra Snow Queen. Philippa the Bright.
I feel fine now. I open my eyes, pull out the bead from my pocket, take a breath, channel magic.
It glows the faintest starlight-silver. “Thanks,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” says Edward. “Shall we?”
I step into the classroom feeling the faint numbness that always follows an episode, sit down in my usual place, and try to focus on the test that doesn’t seem important any more.
The hour goes by in a blur. I enchant half a dozen different objects. Every enchantment I cast succeeds, and I find myself thankful for Edward’s advanced lessons. Compared to that, the things we’ve been taught in class aren’t hard at all. There are a couple of moments when my control slips – at one stage I put a little too much magic into a levitation enchantment and the stone almost hits the ceiling. In a way it’s almost helpful that I’ve just had an episode, though, because it means I’m protected from another one for a little while.
“Okay?” asks Edward as we leave.
I shrug. “I’m surviving.”
“Good to know.”
Edward is worried about me, I can tell. I’m not above exploiting that worry to persuade him to join the rest of the study group on our expedition to the café. The weather has improved since yesterday; it’s still cold and grey, but it’s not raining this time.
Our choice of awkward small talk topic this time is our plans for the holidays. Elsie is going home to her family, Robin is staying with an aunt, I’m staying with my dad. No-one asks questions about why my mother and Robin’s parents are left absent from that. We have enough experience with avoiding sensitive topics by now.
Edward shrugs. “Going home. My dad isn’t around often, so it’ll be just me and the servants – and it’ll be even quieter for Holy Days themselves with him at the Feast of Stars.”
The Feast of Stars is the grand five-day-long party, feast and political networking event held by the King to celebrate Holy Days every year. Everyone who’s anyone at court or in Parliament is invited. It must be the one party that even Lord Blackthorn can’t avoid.
“You’re not going?” Elsie asks.
Edward shudders theatrically. “Stars, no. My dad doesn’t want me formally presented at court yet. Not until I’ve qualified as a magician and can be made Viscount Siaril.”
“…hold on,” I say. “You’re going to be made a viscount? Soon? And you didn’t tell me?”
He shrugs. “That is the traditional title for the acknowledged successor of a Royal Magician. I didn’t think it was a big deal.”
“Only you could possibly think that.” He does have a point, though: I could have put the pieces together and figured out that little revelation on my own. I just didn’t, because despite the last few months it’s still hard for me to reconcile my best friend with someone who’ll one day be one of the most powerful people in the country.
“You could be a viscountess,” says Elsie, a teasing glimmer in her eyes. “Tallulah, Viscountess Blackthorn. How does that sound?”
“Don’t,” I say.
“Tallulah is not going to be Viscountess Blackthorn,” Edward says. “Quite apart from the political factors meaning our marriage would not be a good idea, it’s not the correct title. My title will be subordinate to that of Lord Siaril, not of Lord Blackthorn, and that is a courtesy title rather than a hereditary one. My hypothetical future wife would be entitled to call herself Viscountess, but not Viscountess Blackthorn or Viscountess Siaril.”
“Stars help me,” I mutter. Political factors are far from the only reason Edward and I are never getting married. I consider the part where we’re not actually in a relationship and never will be rather more important than that. I guess this is his way of pretending we are, though.
But even the thought of the two of us in that way is instinctively wrong. Stars, even if I did love him in that way, I’m not even sixteen. I guess I want to get married, but at some hypothetical point in the future once I’m properly grown up and have found the right person.
“You have no sense of romance,” Elsie complains.
“I don’t see why that’s a problem.”
“I feel sorry for whoever you do end up marrying,” teases Elizabeth.
Edward flinches. Elizabeth meant the words innocently; she doesn’t know anything about Edward’s parents’ relationship and how it ended. She doesn’t know that Edward knows he’ll never be able to love the woman he marries, but he still desperately wants to avoid repeating his father’s mistakes.
“On second thoughts,” he says after a moment, “Tallulah might be the only one who’ll ever be able to put up with me.”
I laugh, but his attempt to play off his discomfort isn’t entirely successful. I noticed, even if no-one else did. “And even that is only because I want to get into your library.”
“Of course you’d marry Edward for his books,” says Elizabeth flatly.
“I would marry someone for their books, if the collection was good enough.”
“Thank you, Elsie. See? It’s completely normal.”
“Anyway,” says Edward pointedly. “Elizabeth. Holiday plans?”
“I, uh, don’t really know,” she says. “Don’t have anyone to stay with. Probably just rent the cheapest place I can find. I should be able to get by for a few weeks.”
“If you need money – “ Edward begins, and then stops himself. “Wait, no. Hold on. If I were to offer you money, would you be offended?”
The scary part is that this genuinely counts as progress.
Elizabeth blinks a few times. “I… don’t think so, but I wouldn’t accept it.”
Edward shrugs. “If you change your mind, just ask. Please don’t starve to death because you’re a stubborn idiot.”
“I’m not going to starve to death. I have a little saved up. I’ll make that enough. It’s not for long, anyway, I’ll make plenty of money once I qualify.”
“Wait. Does that mean you’d accept a loan?”
Elizabeth considers that for a second. “…I might, actually. As long as there isn’t a clause saying that my life and soul are forfeit to the Blackthorns if I don’t pay it back in time.”
“Oh, please,” Edward says. “Tricking someone into owing you their service is a terrible way of earning their loyalty. They’ll betray you at the first possible opportunity and do as much damage as they can on the way out.”
He is joking, isn’t he? The combination of his family being what it is and his knack of being perfectly deadpan when he wants makes it impossible to be sure.
“I’ll scrutinise the small print for you,” I offer. “I’m not really qualified in contract law, but I know more or less what I’m doing with it.”
“…and what kind of fees do you charge?”
“No fees. I’m offering free services to acquire new clients.”
“I’ll have a contract drawn up, then,” says Edward. “How much do you want?”
Elizabeth stares blankly at him. “…you’re serious, aren’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She sighs. “Can I have some time to think about this?”
Edward shrugs. “Sure.”