Fortunately, the next test in question is Magical Law and Culture. I find the kind of focus required for that a lot easier than casting or calculating. After the essay last ti, this one is a series of short-answer questions, mostly just recalling facts. The sort of thing this class was intended to be, though Sam's teaching style makes it infinitely more interesting.
It's certainly the easiest test I've encountered; I can actually recall the various facts I need to. I'm a little terrified I'll suddenly co across sothing I should know and don't, but it doesn't happen, and then it's over.
I feel better coming out of the test than I did going into it, which is a pleasant surprise. Lunch is filled with complaints about Electra's test. That does not help my newly improved mood. I keep my silence and listen to everyone else discussing how ridiculous the questions were and how little progress they made on them.
"Robin," says Edward when there's a lull in the conversation, "did you solve the last question?"
"Did you?"
The mont of silence after that tells all I need to know. Edward did not solve the last question. And if even he couldn't do it, what hope was there for us re mortals? It's just like Electra to set an impossible question to waste our ti.
"I don't think a solution exists. But proving that would have taken a few hours, maybe more."
"I didn't find one," Robin says. "I agree; there's probably no solution."
"Why would she make a problem like that?" complains Elsie.
"Because she's Electra, obviously," says Hannah. "I'd honestly be more concerned at this point if she gave us a nice normal easy test."
I laugh. That is probably a good point.
Only three more tests now. I'm counting them down one by one. Three tests, three days, then it'll be over and I can properly rest. The first of them is right after lunch. Theoretical Enchantnts. This is where Edward's extra-curricular lessons really co in useful – he's very pedantic about making sure I properly understand the theory of what I'm trying to do, which is often more advanced than what we cover in class.
I was sceptical when he first decided to teach , but I have to admit it was a good idea.
The test goes as smoothly as I could have expected. I ss up one of the calculations, because I'm tired after two and a half days' straight tests, and don't quite have ti to go back at the end and fix it. It won't make that much of a difference to my final marks, I tell myself.
We have a free period afterwards. I need to revise more Magical Theory for tomorrow; there's still a few topics I'm shaky on, and the fact none of them ca up on the previous test ans I'm likely to encounter them this ti.
Edward reluctantly agrees to be my "study partner". To be fair, he is studying, just not anything that's ever going to feature on these tests. Apparently his Advanced Magical Theory teacher gave him extra reading.
"I must have looked too bored when he was explaining normal spell forms," Edward explains. "I think I was in the middle of a wardwork project at the ti and just wanted to get back to that. He doesn't like very much; doesn't think first-years should be allowed into his class."
The idea of anyone thinking Edward isn't good enough to be in their class is absurd. "Even you?"
"Perhaps especially . I think it's that he thinks I just got in because of my dad rather than because I'm actually good enough."
I do wonder whether Edward would have been allowed to sit the advanced class if his father wasn't Lord Blackthorn, but regardless there's no doubt that he deserves his place there. "So…" I say after he's silent for a few seconds.
"So he started interrogating on everything we'd covered in class and quite a few things we hadn't. Thankfully he was at least reasonable enough to accept the truth, and now he's giving extra reading so I don't get bored in class, and he's going to test on it."
"That's good, right?"
Edward shrugs. "I'd rather be able to choose what I work on myself, but he does know what he's talking about and having a proper teacher might be helpful."
It's a good thing I'm used to him now, because it makes it a lot easier to hide my instinctive reaction to that.
"Anyway. Speaking of magical theory, weren't you supposed to be working on it?"
I was. I guess I must have been unconsciously using his story as an excuse to procrastinate. I hate it when I do that. I can at least get to work now, though. I force myself to open my textbook to the relevant page and begin to read.
Edward does seem to be taking his extra reading seriously. There's apparently so new material in the books he's been given – I wish he wouldn't sound so surprised by that – and he wants to make sure he thoroughly understands it all.
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anwhile I can't thoroughly understand a good portion of what we've covered in class. I make it an hour and a half before giving in and begging Edward for help. His explanation takes all of thirty seconds and makes wonder why I couldn't have figured it out on my own.
That pattern repeats itself a couple more tis before it's ti to break for food (well, I say "break"; Edward doesn't want to keep going after dinner, and I don't particularly want to myself).
It's just the two of us eating together – we lost track of ti a little, so it's six and forty by the ti we make it to the dining hall and the others have already left. Edward prefers it that way, I think; he certainly seems more relaxed. There's always a faint tension in him when he's around the others, as if he can't quite let his guard down.
We end up discussing politics again. The current Deputy Pri Minister is caught up in a minor scandal which Edward says is being blown out of proportion because of the impending election. Ariana Carling, the leader of the United Reformists, debated the leader of a minor traditionalist party. The debate was largely judged to be a victory for her, as much because of her apparent natural charisma as because of the strength of her argunts.
anwhile Parliant is in its usual pre-Holy-Days chaos as everyone frantically tries to push their bills through before the Parliantary session ends and they have to start again from scratch next year. Edward's dad is being forced to spend much of his ti playing politics instead of getting on with the important business of keeping the country safe.
For a politician, Lord Blackthorn has a remarkable disdain for politics. He seems to see it more as a necessary evil than anything else.
But our discussions make a surprisingly good distraction from revision. Until we finish eating. I should get back to work, but just the thought of it makes feel dread. But if a question cos up on one of the topics I haven't got to yet… if just doing those couple more hours could make a difference to whether I can answer that question or not…
I force myself to stand up, sling my satchel over my shoulder, and head for the nearest study room.
"You're working?" asks Edward, following .
He's going to try and talk out of it. I might let him. "I need to."
"Do you?"
"I'm not prepared – "
"How underprepared did you feel for the other tests?"
"About the sa as this, but – "
"And how well did you do on the other tests?"
"Electra – "
"Sorry. Should have clarified. How well did you do on the other tests that were set by normal, sane teachers?"
I can't help laughing a little. "Quite well, I suppose. But maybe I could have done better – "
"Tallulah." He's talking in that strange intense tone again, and I accept the inevitable and listen to him. "These tests are pass/fail. As long as you pass, your grade does not matter whatsoever. It will never make a difference whether you get eighty percent or ninety or a hundred."
I give him a sceptical look, but when I force myself to consider it rationally I can't find a counterargunt. "Yes," I say, "but…"
He stares at as I trail off into silence. He doesn't need to say but what?
I sigh. "Fine. You win. I won't work. Happy now?"
"I'll be happy when I see that you've passed everything with excellent marks and not worked yourself to death in the process. And yes, exception for Electra, but she's at least not going to fail you."
He sounds very confident of that. I do agree with him – while Electra can be petty, cruel even, I don't think she's the kind to fail students for not succeeding at her impossible tasks. But you can never be quite sure with Electra.
I don't quite know what to do with my new free evening, which makes feel worse about not working. I've finished the True History, and I've told myself I won't let myself get sucked into rereading and cross-referencing until the tests are over. If I'm allowed to keep it over the holidays, that would be a good project to keep busy. I should check and find out the Academy's policy on keeping library books outside of term-ti.
I know it doesn't entirely shut down except for the Holy Days themselves; academics and researchers keep working throughout the holidays, and there are many of them attached to the Academy. So the library will still be open. And the fact I'm borrowing history books rather than anything directly related to the areas of research should be a point in my favour.
I can't check now, though: the library is not open this late.
I settle for collapsing on my bed and staring into space. I'm tired, I realise suddenly. It's a strange thing about tiredness, how you can keep going for three straight days of tests and then the mont you tell yourself you can rest it all hits you at once. Still, I can't exactly go to bed at seven and thirty after noon.
Maybe so fresh air would do good. A stroll around the gardens. I laugh a little to myself at the thought that I can just go and stroll around the gardens of the palace I'm living in as if that's a perfectly normal thing to do.
I feel a little more awake now that I have a purpose. I wrap myself in my coat – it'll probably be cold, since it's certainly dark – and tug on my thick boots.
I was right; it is cold. I regret my decision as soon as I step outside the Academy and feel the biting wind on my cheeks. Still, now I've gone to the effort of coming out I might as well walk for a little. I'll go down to the lake; it's a clear night, so I imagine the reflection of the stars will be beautiful. And it might serve as extra revision for Astronomy on Friday.
"See, Edward?" I say to the empty air. "I'm still working."
It's almost eerily quiet outside. I don't feel unsafe, though: the Academy has sohow beco ho over these last few months, and whatever monsters are lurking in the darkness of my imagination can't make it into the gardens. It's just and the lawn and the stars.
I look up and watch them and wonder if they're watching back. I always used to think they didn't much care for ordinary people like – but I'm not much of an ordinary person now, am I? Maybe, if only by association, I'm now worthy of so fragnt of their attention.
"I guess that's probably heresy, isn't it?" I say to the stars. "Sorry. If you are watching , I'm not a heretic, it's just… hard to believe, when your prayers aren't answered."
I cast a light-spell and pad across the grass, guided by its dim glow, towards the lake. As I get closer, I realise I'm not alone. I can hear what sounds like… crying?
Is there soone out here? Alone and sobbing by the lakeshore? The lake is a deep one; you could probably drown in it. I hate that my thoughts have gone to such a dark place. I need to find this person and make sure they're going to be okay.
I follow the sound of the sobs, which leads down the path I was taking anyway, to the edge of the lake. A small figure is crouched at the edge of the lake, silhouetted against the dark water, rocking back and forth and sobbing.
My footsteps barely make a sound against the grass, but the glow of my light can be seen by anyone paying attention. Once I'm only a few yards away and the light reaches the edge of the water, the figure rises and turns to face , their sobs ceasing instantly.
"Tallulah," she says distantly, and I recognise her with a start: Elsie.
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