Fallen Magic

I keep working on this new project for a while longer, but I’m not going to be able to implement any of my ideas while I’m trapped here. There’s only so many ways I can change my routine for the better when my routine has been stripped away.

I finish my homework quicker than I otherwise would, though, since there are no distractions. And now my trunk has been delivered I can read, so I lose myself in the troubles and triumphs of the Border Wars for the rest of the afternoon.

Edward comes at dinner time. He only has half an hour, Electra instructs him, and that only because he’s fetching food for me and returning my dishes to the kitchen afterwards.

“Is there any news?”

“None. I told my dad everything as soon as I left you, but I haven’t heard anything from him.”

“What did you tell my dad?”

“Also everything. I don’t think he likes me, though.”

I wasn’t sure whether Edward would trust my dad enough to tell him everything. I’m pleasantly surprised that he did – I felt so awful keeping secrets from him, but I’d feel even more awful betraying Edward’s trust. “Why not?”

He shrugs. “I’m a Blackthorn, and it’s my fault you’re here – “

“It’s not!”

“If we weren’t friends none of this would have happened!”

He’s right. But also he’s wrong. “I chose this, Edward. I chose you, knowing who you are and what it meant.”

I never would have expected that promise of friendship to lead me here of all places. But if I had the chance to choose again, knowing what I know now? There are a lot of things I’d change, but that’s not one of them.

“Thank you,” he says. “But you shouldn’t blame yourself either.”

I give him a sceptical look.

“The only person to blame for this is the one who thought she could use you as a game piece to get what she wanted. It was Mildred’s choice that did this, and if you blame yourself you’re taking that away.”

That’s not a perspective I’d considered. I repeat it to myself, wondering if I believe it. “Thank you,” I say. “I think that helps.”

“You’re welcome. If there’s anything else I can do – “

“Well,” I say, “I could use some new books…”

Edward agrees to keep me supplied with history books – I make him a list of all the ones I can remember from the library that I wanted to read, and we negotiate that he’ll bring me three each week, that being the best balance we can find between stopping me getting bored and letting Edward borrow all the magic books he wants as well.

Once he’s gone, I work through the theoretical parts of the day’s lessons, which Electra brought with the meal. I’ve arranged with Electra that I’ll do the practical parts with her supervision on mornings before classes start, and at weekends if that isn’t enough time.

By the time that’s done it’s nine after noon, and I’m tired enough I decide to go straight to sleep. I half expect to be kept awake by dark thoughts, but I’m asleep almost as soon as I curl up under the covers.

Blindingly bright light, too strong to be the morning sun. I open my eyes a little, just enough to see that the light is a palm-sized ball hovering at the end of my bed – no, not hovering, resting in someone’s hand. The rest of the room is dark, so it’s hard to make out who’s sitting in my chair with the summoned light. I drag myself up to lean on the headboard and squint.

Lord Blackthorn.

Stars.

“Miss Roberts,” he says, seeing I’m awake. I wish I wasn’t.

“It’s – “ I squint up at the clock; the light spreads just far enough for me to make out its hands. “Four and twenty after midnight.”

“So it is.”

“…why couldn’t you call at a more sociable hour?”

“If I kept to sociable hours, I would be significantly less efficient and effective. Besides, I’d rather it wasn’t known I was here.”

I don’t think that was meant as a threat, but it still has my heart beating a little faster. I almost ask how he got in without alerting anyone before remembering that he’s both one of the most talented magicians in the country and Minister for Intelligence – there’s probably not a locked room in the City he couldn’t enter if he wanted to.

So here I am, trapped alone with the Black Raven at four and twenty after midnight. If you’d told me that would happen a few weeks ago I would have been utterly terrified. I still am – but not for the same reasons.

“Tell me what happened in the library on Sunday,” he says.

“Haven’t you already heard from Edward?”

“It’s best to hear these things first-hand. Tell me.”

He speaks as if it’s impossible that I could refuse him. I don’t; I sketch out my story yet again.

Lord Blackthorn listens intently, sometimes interrupting to clarify something: were those Mildred’s exact words? Did I get an impression of what she was feeling? Am I sure she locked the door?

His questioning is thorough enough that I realise just how fragile my memories are, how many details I missed and how much I lost because I was trapped in my own head fighting the Malaina episode.

“Were there any witnesses?” he asks finally.

“Other than Mildred? Rosie – your niece – was on duty in the library. She’ll have seen… well, the aftermath.”

He nods sharply. “Can she corroborate – “ He stops and jumps smoothly to his feet, pivoting to face the door, even though I haven’t heard anything but the usual noises of a large building at night.

There are a couple of moments of tense silence, and then the door swings open to reveal Electra, wrapped in a black dressing-gown. She waves a hand and the room’s enchanted light switches on.

I blink a few times, wondering how it’s possible that I’m thankful for the appearance of Electra. She wears an expression of contained, icy fury which frightens me more than anything else I’ve seen from her. “Lord Blackthorn,” she says, her words dripping danger, “please explain what you are doing invading my student’s bedroom at such an unreasonable hour.”

He doesn’t look remotely intimidated. I guess he wouldn’t; he’s a bigger monster than she is, after all. “I don’t see why I should justify myself to you.”

“Oh? Perhaps you would rather justify yourself to the Board of Governors when I report you for entering the Academy without permission and breaching Malaina confinement? They can’t be too fond of you after all the special treatment you requested for your son.”

I can practically feel the tension in the air. Maybe if I stay very still, they’ll forget I’m here.

“I am going to finish my conversation with Miss Roberts,” Lord Blackthorn replies, a sharp edge to his voice, “and then I am going to leave. There will be no disruption to anyone’s business except yours since you insist on interfering, and no report will be made to the Governors.”

“And I am going to remain here for the duration of your conversation, and when it is complete you and I are going to have a… conversation… of our own.”

They stare at each other for a long moment, until finally Lord Blackthorn nods. “Then come in and be silent. As I was saying, Miss Roberts, can my niece corroborate your statement that Miss Cavendish locked the library door?”

It takes me a few seconds just to collect my scattered thoughts after what I’ve just heard. I know there must be a dozen layers I didn’t see to that interaction, and Electra makes that conversation sound like the type where only one participant leaves it alive. Though maybe that’s just Electra’s usual style.

“I… maybe? I don’t know any locking spells, so I’m not sure how subtly they could be cast. But I’d expect Mildred to be subtle about it if she didn’t want to get caught.”

“I suppose we should assume a basic level of competence,” says Lord Blackthorn. “Other witnesses?”

“Well, Electra, but…”

“That will have to be something we discuss in our… conversation.” He mimics Electra’s suggestive pause near-perfectly, but it doesn’t sound quite as ominous when he says it. “Is that all?”

“I don’t remember encountering anyone else,” I say. “But… I don’t remember what happened during the episode at all. So I can’t help you there.”

He nods. “Is there anything else you want to tell me?”

“No,” I say, and then gather my courage: “but there are things I want to ask you.”

“Ask, then.”

That’s hardly encouraging, but it’s better than the outright refusal I expected. “We – Edward and I – have a theory about Mildred’s motivations. Do you know it?”

“Of course.”

“Do you agree with it?”

“I have yet to receive evidence for it, but in the balance of probabilities… I believe I do.”

He means that Mildred hasn’t actually contacted him to offer the deal she wants yet. At least, I think he does. But he’s expecting her to.

“And… if you do receive that evidence…” I hesitate. He’s watching me expectantly, and while Electra tries to look as if we bore her, I know she too is waiting to hear what I say next. I’m scared to say it. I’m scared of the answer. “What will you do?”

Silence. In a way that’s all the answer I need, but it gives me the reassurance that at least he isn’t just telling me what I want to hear.

“Cavendish committed treason,” he says, “and the sentence for treason is death. To spare him for your sake would go against the principles of justice.”

Yes, some cold and analytical part of my mind notes. If I heard of a traitor being spared in exchange for the freedom of a dangerous Malaina girl in the newspapers, I’d be appalled.

But I can’t be cold and analytical, because this is me. My future he’s holding in his hands, my future that could be gone forever for the sake of the principles of justice. I want to beg him to change his mind, but I can’t even find the words.

“And yet my son cares deeply about you, and – believe it or not – I care deeply about him. I know what losing you would do to him. What it would do to his trust in me.”

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he is a monster. I’m only saving you because otherwise my son would hate me, I don’t care about you at all. I thought I understood him a little after the Abbey steps, but I never did.

I could never understand how someone can be that cold and calculating with the stakes as they are.

“And yet,” he continues remorselessly, “I am the Black Raven. The Lord of Shadows. The monster that haunts the darkness, that finds and punishes those who act against the throne.” He shrugs, such a human gesture contrasting with his words. “A monster cannot be bargained with. A monster cannot be blackmailed.”

It takes me a second to grasp what he means, but I’ve read enough history books filled with speeches of metaphor and implication to realise he’s talking about reputation. Nobles like the Cavendishes and any others who might be plotting treason believe he is the monster he describes, who will remorselessly hunt them. If they realise that he can be blackmailed into sparing them, then they’ll attempt to do the same.

It might be Edward they target next, and that is the one thing Lord Blackthorn will not allow to happen.

“That is what I must consider when making my decision. I do not yet know what I will do.”

I want to scream, I want to beg, I want to insist that he just tell me what he’ll do, because anything is better than this dreadful not knowing. I feel myself breathing faster, hear my heartbeat in my ears.

So soon? No. No, I can’t let this happen, I can’t –

That’s making it worse. Already the room doesn’t feel quite real. What do I do, to make this stop? Charles First-King, I think to myself. Edwin the Just. Simon the Drunkard. I make myself breathe in as I mentally recite each name and release the breath in between names.

And my heartbeat slows, and the world comes back into focus. Despite everything I feel a faint sense of triumph.

“Is that all?”

I nod shakily.

He rises to his feet without another word and strides across the room, beckoning imperiously to Electra as he reaches the door.

She rolls her eyes. “Have you no patience, Your Lordship?” Her words drip venom, but her tone switches in an instant to her usual teaching voice as she turns to me: “Tallulah, I apologise for this intrusion, and will make sure it does not occur again. I hope you do not expect this to mean a change in our arrangements for tomorrow morning?”

“No,” I say. “After breakfast, seven and thirty.” Though the practical spellwork session is the last thing on my mind right now. My mind is whirling. I feel like I’ve barely slept, and I know I’ll sleep little after this.

“Good,” she says. “I will see you then.” She pushes herself away from the wall and stalks after Lord Blackthorn.

If, I add silently, one of them doesn’t murder the other in this... conversation.