His tone is precise and measured and icy. I can almost feel the tension in the air. I need to be very careful.

  “I spoke rashly. I won’t ever try to make Edward and Robin be friends again. I won’t confide in her about anything important to him, or to the Blackthorns. I won’t give her anything she can use against Edward.”

  “You are something she can use against Edward.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.”

  “You have a lot of faith in someone already proven untrustworthy.”

  I’m silent for a moment, because that doesn’t have a natural response. “You understood Mildred better than I did today. But I understand Robin better than you do. She – she just wants the favour of her family back. And she wants her friends back. And she’s learnt what happens when she tries to sacrifice one for the other, and she won’t do it again.”

  “The way you make sure someone doesn’t betray you again is to never give them a second opportunity.”

  “So I won’t. That doesn’t mean I have to never speak to her again, or that I have to let her suffer.”

  He laughs wryly. “I suppose I should admire your loyalty to your friends, or at least be thankful that my son is a beneficiary. But it is… inconvenient, sometimes. Know this, then: Edward cares about you. That buys you a lot of my patience, more than I would allow anyone else. But that amount is not infinite. Is this, then, worth expending some of it?”

  If he knew everything I was keeping from him, that patience would evaporate within seconds. I don’t know if Edward could save me from his wrath. I have to turn away from that thought, pretend I never had it, because it’s too awful to contemplate.

  I pretend, too, that I’m not keeping so many secrets from him. That the question at hand is the only one that concerns me. I consider it for a moment. Consider Robin. Consider how I felt watching her walk away. And I have my answer. “Yes.”

  “Very well. Now, Edward tells me you wanted to discuss publishing some part of the contents of my library?”

  I blink. I’d almost forgotten about that. And after that little conversation I don’t get the sense that I’m in the best negotiating position. “Is – is now really the best time for that?”

  “It is for me,” he replies, in a tone that suggests that he doesn’t particularly care what I think about the timing. And perhaps that if I did object more strongly, that would be another test of his patience with me.

  “All right, then. Edward told you about my ideas?”

  “He did. Why, then, do you think this is a worthwhile use of my time?”

  Starting off with the easy questions, I see. I don’t think he’s going to appreciate anything about priceless historical value or an argument about the ethics of hoarding knowledge. “It might be good for the reputation of the family,” I say. “To see you doing something that benefits the wider population. And it would make money – I know you hardly need money, but donating would also be good for your reputation as well as contributing to whatever cause you find most important. And you’ve already dealt with the books Edward gave me, so at least for those there wouldn’t be a significant time investment.”

  He laughs. “You seem to be under the impression that my family’s reputation is remotely redeemable.”

  “Not with everyone. Some people will just always hate you. But others, if they see you doing something that isn’t obviously villainous…”

  That gets a disbelieving look, which I’m not convinced is undeserved. “And what makes you think I care about that?”

  “Maybe you don’t. But you’re not the only one it affects, are you?”

  Edward is a Blackthorn too, and he doesn’t have his father’s tolerance for so many people hating him without knowing the first thing about him. I’m not sure how much I’m genuinely concerned and how much I’m just using the fact I know Lord Blackthorn is.

  “No,” he admits.

  “And I know you don’t exactly need more money, but at least having it spent in ways you want can’t be useless.”

  “It’s not an awful idea. It’s whether it’s good enough to be worthwhile that’s in question. I’ll consider it.” And he walks out of the room.

  I blink. “What did I expect?” I ask the empty air as the door swings shut behind him.

  At least I have a quiet room to myself now, for as long as I need to collect my thoughts and work out what I should do next. I don’t know if I’m angry with him or with myself or with the world in general, or whether I just want to stay here and not have to face the next challenge.

  I’m realising that this will be my life now. That Lord Blackthorn will always try to interfere in it. In this case it wasn’t so bad – his advice about Mildred was at least thought-provoking – and he didn’t outright try to forbid me from associating with Robin.

  But quite likely that’s only because he knows I wouldn’t obey that restriction.

  This isn’t the first time I’ve knowingly gone against his wishes. And I have an awful feeling it won’t be the last. Even if he never finds out about the big secrets: Elsie’s power, Amara’s people, Lauren…

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  I’ve been struggling with this problem for a while, but it’s only now that I can articulate it to myself. I want to be Edward’s friend, but I can’t ethically be loyal to his father, especially not when that would mean hurting other people.

  And I’m afraid that I can’t have both. That sooner or later, I’ll have to make the kind of compromise I don’t know if I can live with. Or abandon the best friend I’ve ever had.

  I wish I’d known what I was getting into months ago.

  I collapse back onto the bench, which is delightfully soft, and wonder what the purpose of this room is and whether I’m likely to be interrupted. Lord Blackthorn had ward access to it, but he doesn’t own the Regal –

  At least, I don’t think he does. But now I reflect on it, it would make a lot of sense if he at least had an arrangement of sorts with its owners. All the behind-the-scenes deals and relationships made here are exactly what Lord Blackthorn would want knowledge of.

  I sigh. Now I might just have figured out yet another secret that I’ll have to keep. Maybe I should ask him about it next time I see him, if only to satisfy my curiosity.

  He didn’t chalk out privacy wards when we entered this room. That’s another piece of evidence for my theory. Though maybe we just didn’t discuss anything sensitive enough to need them. But regardless, he must have been fairly confident we wouldn’t be interrupted. Which means I don’t need to worry about someone else bursting in here while I’m thinking. Thank the stars for small mercies.

  But I probably shouldn’t stick around here forever. Especially not when I don’t know what’s happened to the others. Have they actually been removed due to my absence? Did Mildred take the opportunity to reappear? Is Robin okay?

  What am I going to tell them? It was fine, he just told me off for how I handled that situation and said he didn’t want me associating with Robin, but I’m not going to pay attention to that last part. Oh, and then we discussed publishing the contents of his library. I laugh at the thought of just flatly telling the truth.

  Probably a lightly edited version of the first part is best. Just make it clear that I’m completely fine and he didn’t do anything awful to me. Seem as normal as possible given the circumstances. The longer I stay here, though, the harder that will become. Stars, why did I ever think coming here was a sensible decision?

  I stand, smooth down my skirts, and tug at the door handle. It doesn’t open. For one heart-stopping moment I think I’m trapped in here, but the door is just stiff and heavy. A little more jiggling with the handle, a hard push, and I’m free. And not alone: a tall woman with long flowing black hair turns into the corridor at the same time as I emerge from the room. We both jump a little in surprise as we see each other.

  “I – I’m just leaving,” I say.

  The woman nods. “No hurry. I’m not in any particular rush tonight. You’re Tallulah Roberts, aren’t you?”

  There isn’t any point in denying it, is there? “Yes. And you’re…”

  “Ariana Carling. A pleasure to meet you.” She offers me her hand.

  Ah. Her. I shake her hand numbly.

  “I’m curious about you, Tallulah – may I call you Tallulah?”

  I nod. Her and half the country are curious about me. And I don’t want to be an object of curiosity.

  “Do you have a few minutes to speak?” she asks.

  I blink. I’m curious about her, too. If I could find out more about who she is and what she wants… wasn’t I thinking earlier about finding my own political allies, beyond the Blackthorns?

  But that was before the conversation I just had. Before it became very clear that doing that would cause problems between me and Lord Blackthorn, and those are very much problems I could do without. Besides, she’s likely after information on the Blackthorns. My association to them is the only interesting thing about me. And I am not ready to evade and dissemble right now.

  Fortunately I have a ready-made excuse. “I have friends waiting for me downstairs, I’m afraid.”

  “Alas. Some other time, perhaps?”

  I should just mumble a non-committal response and make my escape. But the thought of talking to her properly, when I’m prepared for it and armed with scripts and careful non-answers and an idea of what I want from the conversation… that is tempting. “I’d like that,” I say. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Have a good evening.”

  “Thank you,” I say. “You too.”

  I stroll downstairs as if I belong in a place like this. I’m more thankful to my grandmother than I ever thought I would be. Without her dress, I would never have had the confidence not to skulk along the side of the staircase. Even now I’m acting a part, but the girl walking towards the main floor of the Regal is at least someone I can pretend to be.

  The attendants by the entrance smile and nod as I pass them, but no-one else gives me a second glance. I stick to the side of the main floor, hoping Mildred won’t see me, and hurry to the annex where I left the others.

  They’re still there, and there’s no sign of Mildred. Even Robin is still perched awkwardly in her corner.

  “She’s alive!” says Daniel cheerfully.

  “We were just discussing whether we needed to mount a rescue mission,” Lucy explains, laughing. “I’m very glad we don’t, because we did not have an effective plan.”

  I laugh back. “I’m fine. What did I miss?”

  “Not much, really,” Aisha says. “Mildred didn’t come back, so Robin is still here.”

  “Not much?” repeats Jake incredulously. “You missed the drink orders. You know, the entire reason we came here in the first place?”

  Indeed, they’re all sipping at wines and cocktails. I wonder how much Robin had in her budget for tonight.

  “We weren’t sure what you’d like,” Lucy says. “So we asked the waiter for a couple of recommendations. He hopes that they suit your taste well.”

  I see three glasses sitting besides my empty chair. “What are they?”

  Absurdly expensive, apparently. I fight to keep the grimace off my face and hope Robin doesn’t mind covering my tab. Though there is also a lemonade there.

  “That was me,” Robin says, seeing what I’m looking at. “I thought you might want a non-alcoholic option.”

  I give her a grateful smile and sit back down, ignoring the inevitable jokes about how of course I need alcohol after what I’ve just dealt with. The last thing I need right now is to have my judgement impaired. Which gives me an awful thought.

  “I don’t mean to sound paranoid,” I say, “but how sure are you that these drinks haven’t been spiked?”

  “No offence, Tallulah, but you do sound quite paranoid.”

  I ignore that. The glasses couldn’t have been touched by anyone who wasn’t one of us since reaching the table, is what I gather after a couple of pointed questions. But I imagine it would be quite possible to subtly levitate a powder into a glass. And that’s before I take into account the possibility of the Regal’s staff being part of the hypothetical plot against me. Or the question of whether I can trust everyone at this table.

  Is this what it’s like to be Lord Blackthorn? I understand him a little better if he constantly has to live with that paranoia. There’s spells that can test for substances added to food or drinks, I remember reading somewhere. But unless they’re very advanced it’s easy to get false positives on things as harmless as salt. And knowing that magic can theoretically do something is very different from being able to actually do it with magic.

  In this case it’s as simple as not drinking, though. Thankfully I’m not too thirsty. Hopefully now I can just enjoy my evening.

  Of course, I still have to suffer through the inevitable interrogation about what Lord Blackthorn wanted with me. The reactions to that are quite varied. Lucy thinks I did nothing wrong and I shouldn’t listen to him. Scott asks if we’re being too harsh on Mildred, after what happened to her father, which gets mocking laughter from some of the others.

  And Robin just says quietly “Thank you”.