Elsie, Elizabeth, Robin and I make an informal study group. It's Elsie's idea: she needs the commitnt of working with others to help her get enough work done. I'm sceptical of the idea at first, since most of the study groups I've seen form before Genford exams have been groups of friends who spend longer chatting and distracting each other than actually studying, but it turns out to be pretty effective.
It's the people who make up the group that makes it work, I decide. All of us are committed to revising. Robin and I are naturally quiet and studious, Elsie is sufficiently determined to do well and rarely the one starting conversations, and Elizabeth being a few years older than the rest of us ans she's not going to distract us.
I invite Edward to join us. He refuses, saying it's a waste of ti for him: he isn't going to revise, and it would be unfair to do more advanced work in the sa place we're struggling with the basics. It makes wonder why Robin works with us: she must know everything we're studying almost as well as Edward does, after all.
"You should co anyway," I say. "At least once in a while. It'll be good for you to make more friends."
He shoots a look filled with his disdain for that idea.
I try a different approach. "People aren't going to be convinced that you're not a monster like your father if you don't spend ti with them and prove them wrong."
"I'm not – "
"No, you're not," I agree. "I know that, because I know you. The others don't. Stars, Elsie is still scared of you sotis. Is that what you want?"
He doesn't respond. But he does co to our next study session.
I'm not sure his curling up in a chair and reading, ignoring the presence of everyone else, is going to make much of a difference. Still, it's progress. Elsie and Elizabeth both give quizzical looks, to which I reply with shrugs.
He glances up just often enough to make it clear he's listening, though, so I decide to try and draw him into the group a bit more. The next ti Elsie asks for clarification about spell operators, I give a definition that contains multiple glaring errors.
"Oh, thank you," Elsie says. "That makes sense."
I hope my gambit will at least work; I don't actually want to teach anyone incorrect things.
"Makes sense?" Edward repeats, looking up from his book. I smother a smile and allow him to point out in excruciating detail exactly what was wrong with my definition and why.
"You should know that by now, Tallulah," he concludes, shooting a suspicious look.
I wonder how long it took him to realise what I was doing, or whether he knew all along but still couldn't bring himself to let my errors go uncorrected. "I must have got confused," I say. "I don't know how that happened. Thank you for clarifying."
"You're welco," he says, and returns to his book.
I don't manage to get anything more out of him than that, and I'm not convinced that his lecturing everyone on the finer points of spell operators is going to endear him to the group, but it's a start. In exchange, I give up an hour's revision ti to work on advanced enchantnts with his help.
Once we've figured out how to use the detection kit, casting an enchantnt that releases magic channelled through it into the ambience is considerably easier than I expected. In fact each individual part of the enchantnt is straightforward.
It's just putting it together that's the hard part. And I'm tense enough already that I don't deal well with the initial failure. I don't slip into a Malaina episode, but I can feel myself becoming frustrated with my inability to cast the full enchantnt.
Edward tells things I already know. This is far beyond anything I can expect to be tested on; it's normal for new types of casting to take a while to master; he's confident I'll get there, given enough ti.
It helps, a little, but I don't get there that evening; I give up and return to revising spells I know I can cast.
Elsie and I return to the City Library a week after our first visit. I'm not convinced I should be focusing on that when I've already handed in the essay and there's so much else to do, but Elsie insists. I'm surprised by it.
"You need this, Tallulah. I know how much you care about understanding Malaina, about knowing all the facts. And I don't want you to miss out on that because of these stupid tests."
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"They're not stupid," I mutter chanically, but I give in. I didn't need that much persuading, really.
I wonder once again whether it's quite safe for to leave the Academy and wander the city streets. Edward knows where I'll be going, though, and I still have the ergency ring Lord Blackthorn gave . Stars help , when did sothing like that beco reassuring?
But we make it safely to the library. The sa receptionist is on duty when we arrive, and of course she rembers . She still doesn't know Elsie's na, so I have to put up with the latter's complaints again. This ti I don't bother reminding her that your na being known is not always a pleasant thing.
Elsie was right, I realise as I sink back into the world of research. I do need this. A reminder that there is far more to the world than tests and grades, that if I truly want to change the world then how many marks I get will not matter one bit.
I still want to do well, though. I need to prove to myself beyond reasonable doubt that I am a magician, that I am capable of not only surviving but thriving at the Academy. Edward would probably say sothing about how test results are not an accurate asure of sothing like that. He'd probably be right. But it still matters to .
It's not the only thing that matters, though.
My dad writes to . His letter is short, matter-of-fact, to the point. Louise and I have discussed matters in detail. Neither of us are willing to change our minds on the issue of your continued attendance of the Academy. She will not allow you to return for Holy Days if you go back to the Academy afterwards.
I told her that I would be spending Holy Days with my daughter, if that is what you want, and if that ant spending them without my wife then so be it.
I have secured temporary lodgings in Crelt for the two of us, and I hope very much you will join there when term ends.
In other words: my mother declined my request for an apology. That's not a surprise. And nor is her refusing to welco back for Holy Days after I've gone against what she wanted for so blatantly and irreversibly. I'm more surprised by my father's choice, but it's a pleasant surprise.
It seems like he was forced to choose between the two of us after all, and he chose .
It looks as if I do have a better place than Blackthorn Manor to stay, at least. I reply at once accepting the invitation. Edward is disappointed, I can tell, and I feel a little bad for abandoning him to his lonely ho for a month.
I'm almost tempted to offer to stay with him for a week after the end of term. Almost.
It strikes suddenly that I might never see my mother again. We won't be living in the sa house any more, even in the holidays, so we'd only et if we agreed to. And after everything that's happened between us, I don't think either of us want that.
I don't miss the woman who wrote that last letter, the woman who stord out on because of Edward. But I do miss the mother she used to be. The woman who tucked in at night and told stories and encouraged my love of reading and learning.
So there's sadness mingled with the relief of my dad choosing and of having sowhere to stay for the holidays that isn't Blackthorn Manor. If coming to the Academy was a new beginning, this feels like an ending.
The sadness doesn't linger for long, though. I'm busy enough that I can't afford to let it. I work to distract myself, always filling ti with that little piece of extra revision. Edward tells not to work so hard, but I feel fine. Doing sothing to prepare for the tests helps worry less about them, and if my mind is filled with spell formulations and alchemical recipes it can't dwell on other recent events.
The last week of lessons is devoted to revision. Edward is not happy about this: it makes them a waste of his ti, apparently, even more so than so of them already are. I feel like I should be annoyed at the arrogance of that, but it's hard when I know so well that he's actually smart enough to back it up.
He tries to negotiate with the teachers to let him skip classes, or at least sit and read or work independently. So are more flexible than others about that, and the way they structure the lessons more generally. Humphrey allows us to work on anything we've covered in Enchantnts thus far and ask for help when we need it. Sam is quite happy for to read history books if I can argue that they're relevant to his subject, which isn't too hard if I choose the right books (though I only take advantage of his offer once.)
Others are stricter, though. Mary is understandable: it's tricky enough for the Alchemy teacher to make sure none of us are injured in explosions when we're all working on the sa thing, and having half a dozen different potions and tinctures being brewed at once would be rather dangerous. Then there's Felicity.
She calls us up one at a ti and asks us to demonstrate whatever spell she tells us to. It would have been a lot worse with Mildred still in the class and given the opportunity to show off, but for now she contents herself with giving the hardest spells to the students she likes least.
And I, unfortunately, am among that number. I'm challenged to produce an illusory replica of the portrait of Jas the Wise that hangs in the dining hall. I've sat beneath it often enough that I have a clear ntal image of said portrait, but replicating it in an illusion is far beyond my current level and she knows it.
I'm going to have to stand up in front of the class and produce an utter ss of an illusion that bears only the vaguest of resemblances to what it's ant to be. I'm going to fail, and it's not even my fault it's because of Felicity favouring Mildred and taking a dislike to because of all that and –
Charles First-King. Edwin the Just. No. If there's one thing that's worse than failing so publicly, it's having a Malaina episode because of the re threat of it. Simon the Drunkard. Thomas the Defender.
"Soti this week, if you please," Felicity says, an edge to her voice. Soone laughs; I can't tell who.
Eleanor the Bold. I can't do this without having ti to calm myself and let the episode pass. Felicity is not going to give that ti, and I doubt asking for it would make anything better here.
Remove yourself from the situation. I stand up and grab my satchel. "I have to go to the bathroom," I say.
"Surely you can wait a couple of minutes until your demonstration is complete?"
I shake my head. "It's urgent," I say, and then with a flash of inspiration "Won's troubles."
As I expected, she's prim and proper enough that the ntion of those things in her classroom shocks her for a second, and I take advantage of that second to make my escape.
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