Electra takes half a minute to open her door to us, but at least we don’t have to come back later. I’d rather get this over with.

  “Ah,” she says. “It’s you two. Is it urgent?”

  “Not particularly,” I say before Edward can speak. “And for the record I’m only here for… moral support.”

  “I see,” she replies. “I suppose this is about the return of Dr Prince?”

  “She has a doctorate?” Edward says with slight incredulity.

  I wince. “Yes. It is.”

  “I thought as much. Well, I suppose I can spare you a few minutes. Come in.”

  We do so. The unsettling nature of her office seems far less intimidating than it did the first time I stepped into it, but I’m never quite going to feel comfortable in her space.

  “What’s her doctorate in?” I ask as I sit down. Not entirely out of mere curiosity, either.

  “Specific counterspells,” Electra says. “If I recall correctly, her thesis was on counters to levitation spells. And she’s still an active researcher.” I’m not sure if she realises why I’m asking, though I certainly wouldn’t put it past her.

  “Well,” Edward says. “Even if she is, that still doesn’t make her a good teacher. You’re definitely better than she is.”

  “I’m flattered. But if you’ve just come here to complain, then I have more important things to do.”

  “We came,” Edward says, ignoring the look I give him at his choice of pronoun, “to ask you to mark our white box assignments. I have them here.” He sets the assignments down on the table and slides them to Electra.

  She makes no move to take them. “Why should I? I am no longer your teacher. This assignment was, as I understand it, disapproved of by the person who is. It is not my responsibility.”

  “But – don’t you want to help us learn?”

  “You seem,” says Electra, “to be under the impression that I wanted to teach Countering Magical Effects. I did not. It only took precious time away from my real, important work. And because you’re first-years I have to be soft on you all.”

  I want to laugh at the idea of Electra’s treatment of our class being remotely soft, but then I remember some of the exercises she’s put Edward and I through, which are probably similar to how she teaches Magical Combat. In comparison to that… yeah, her Countering Magical Effects lessons were soft.

  “Why did you end up teaching it, then?” I ask.

  “Academic politics,” she replies. Her tone is enough to suggest exactly what she thinks of academic politics. “But you can rest assured that I am quite happy with Millicent Prince teaching the class she was assigned to teach.”

  “Well, I’m not,” says Edward flatly.

  I recognise the particular kind of smile Electra gives in response. It’s the sign that someone has made a mistake, and the gleeful anticipation of exactly how she is going to point that mistake out. And for once, I agree that what Edward just said was a mistake.

  “Richard Harrison,” Electra says.

  “What? Who’s he?”

  “Who was he,” she corrects icily. “He was a boy of about your age. A Malaina boy. The school of magic he went to is quite unequipped to adequately handle Malaina, and he spiralled as a result. He was killed about a week ago.”

  I grimace. “Was… was it the right choice?” I hate that that’s even a question I have to contemplate.

  “It depends what you mean. I haven’t read the case in detail, but from what I know of it I agree that a point of no return was reached, and that had he lived he likely would have become mala sia. But,” she continues, her voice turned to ice, “I don’t believe that it was inevitable from the beginning. I believe that he could have been saved. I believe that I could have saved him.”

  I realise then where she’s going. Maybe this is a slightly harsher lesson than Edward deserves.

  “But I couldn’t. Because I didn’t get to him in time. Because I was teaching Countering Magical Effects.” She pauses for effect, giving her message just enough time to sink in. Then she asks “So, would you still like me to mark your white box assignments?”

  I say nothing, because what can you say to something like that?

  “No,” says Edward. “Not if it’s a choice between that and saving a life. I – would think that decision would be obvious.”

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  “Try telling that to – any of the people involved in the decision to have me cover the course.”

  Am I imagining the slight hesitation in her voice at that? Is there something she’s hiding from us about how the decision was made or who made it?

  “I was wondering, though – why would Millicent not return at the beginning of term, rather than the next week? And why would you not announce it in advance?”

  “From what I’ve heard, her newborn son was ill and she stayed at home to care for him. And she didn’t know how long it would take him to be well. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  I glance at Edward. He sighs and takes the assignments back from the table. “No,” he says. “There isn’t. Thank you for your time.”

  “Don’t say anything,” says Edward the moment we get outside. I can’t read his tone. He doesn’t sound angry, or at least not angry with me.

  “I wasn’t going to,” I say. Because I think anything I could say here would just rub salt into his wound without meaningfully helping him to understand.

  “I didn’t think…”

  “Nor did I,” I admit.

  “But I should have. I knew what she did. I knew the consequences of her work. I… I should be better than this.”

  I want to say something reassuring, but I don’t want to tell him he’s wrong, that what he did today was okay. “You can be,” I say.

  “Will you help me with that?”

  “What do you think I’ve been trying to do all day?” I laugh.

  We return to classes after lunch. They’re thankfully more normal than this morning was. I still can’t get what Electra said out of my head. It’s one of those things that I knew in an abstract sense, but had never properly considered. Stars, if she hadn’t found me after I first Fell… where would I be now?

  For once I’m glad that lessons are fairly calm at the moment. Other than Countering Magical Effects, we are actually covering new topics, but they’re introduced gently and seem mostly intuitive. So my distraction isn’t too much of a problem.

  Normally Edward and I would go straight to the dining hall now that lessons have finished for the day, but he has a detention to serve today. “Don’t do anything you’ll regret,” I tell him as we part ways.

  “But I know I’ll regret showing up to it…” I give him a withering look. He laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. Trust me.”

  I do trust him, but… after what he did this morning, I’m not convinced he can get through this without making things worse. I just have to hope Electra gave him some much-needed perspective. “See you later.”

  His detention does give me an opportunity, I realise: I can spend time with Robin without his judgement. We haven’t really spoken in a few days, but I think she’s doing better. Or just doing better at hiding her feelings.

  I stop off at the post room on the way past, wondering if there are updates from Tara or my dad. There aren’t, but there is another letter. Or more of a note. Small, and not marked with my full address, which means it’s been hand-delivered. I narrow my eyes. Edward’s paranoia is a little infectious. But the Academy’s security measures include making sure no harmful magics are attached to their post, so it should be safe to open.

  Tallulah. I would be most grateful if you could pass the enclosed to Edward. Many thanks. I recognise the scrawled signature that follows, though I wasn’t expecting it. I’d nearly forgotten, in fact. But it’s signed Sylvia. It’s from Edward’s mother.

  As she writes, there’s an even smaller note folded and delicately sealed within, addressed simply to Edward. I tuck it away in my pocket, thinking. She visited for a few days last term, and we saw her twice. Then she was called away by a supposed work emergency. I was sceptical at the time, realising how easy it would be for her to simply decide that Edward was too much his father’s son for her to have a meaningful relationship with him. And when no more letters from her appeared, I assumed that was the explanation.

  But perhaps it’s not. Perhaps she was prevented from returning by real crises and things she had to attend to. Or – I hate myself a little for wondering this, but I can’t help it – perhaps her letters just didn’t make it through. Because Lord Blackthorn didn’t want them to.

  I guess it won’t be too long until divorced parents is another thing Edward and I have in common. Though the circumstances are very different.

  I shrug and wander back to the dining hall.

  Robin is sitting alone when I reach her, but she’s more than happy for me to join her. And when Elsie and Elizabeth appear shortly after, they sit with us as well. It’s almost like before, except for Edward’s conspicuous absence. And except for how he’ll react if – when – he sees us like this.

  I set that aside and focus on the conversation, which is unsurprisingly about Millicent. Elizabeth is vocally disappointed that Electra won’t be teaching her any more, which makes sense once I think about it: she’s Malaina, and she wants to go into Electra’s field of magical combat.

  Elsie disagrees. She was terrified of Electra, and she doesn’t care if she ends up learning less just as long as she doesn’t have to deal with the kind of stress Electra’s classes brought any more. It makes me realise how little she knows about Electra. I mean, I’m still terrified of her, but not of anything she might do in class. At least there I can be reasonably sure she won’t nearly stab anyone.

  “What do you think, Tallulah?” Robin asks.

  I wish she hadn’t asked that, because I’m going to have to choose my words very carefully from here. What would a Tallulah who hadn’t had her private lessons, hadn’t found out more about her than any of her dining companions, say now? “I’m a little disappointed,” I say. “Whatever your opinions on her methods, she was a good teacher. And...” I stop talking. I don’t have a good way to complete the sentence I started.

  “…it’s what Edward thinks?” Elsie guesses. “He certainly made it pretty clear.”

  “He did. But I’m not him. This is my own decision.”

  “It’s all right for you,” Elsie complains. “You’re smart enough to keep up with Electra’s awful assignments. But I’m not, Tallulah.”

  “Don’t say that,” I say instinctively.

  “Why shouldn’t I, if it’s true?”

  “Because I don’t think it is true,” I reply.

  “You haven’t seen my grades from her.”

  “She grades very harshly. You should see what she does to some of Edward’s work sometimes. No, the way she sees things, she’s harsh on you because she thinks you can improve. If she just gave you good work all the time, that’s when you should be worried.”

  “…does she really think like that?” Elsie asks, sceptical.

  “I mean, I don’t know, but I think so. Either that or she just wants to take Edward down a peg or two.”

  “Well, she has that in common with Millicent at least,” Robin remarks. “Though I do think Electra’s methods of that are more likely to actually work.”

  Having seen what Electra taking Edward down a peg or two looks like at lunchtime, I couldn’t agree more.