thunder, perfect mind

It's show time, boys and girls. Lindsey is even more of an idiot than I thought she was. How can she and Allison be friends? Allison's smart enough to interest Yvon, who doesn't like stupid, no matter what some people say about Alessio; they're wrong. Alessio isn't stupid, he's broken. Like I was. And Yvon will fix him, now that Serrano has taught him to do it. He practised on me and he did a good job.

Goyle has me here in the infirmary, he says there are plenty of prefects and other people on Squad. Lindsey doesn't like it; she doesn't like that I went round her back to Yvon, but I had to. She said she was going to tell Priscilla about it and I told her we could have that talk with Priscilla and that I'd explain to Priscilla exactly why I felt I had to do it, because I didn't think that Lindsey would, or that she'd wait too long. And I'd give examples of past behaviour. And documentation. It got awfully quiet in there. I've made her an enemy and I know it. But Yvon is on my side, and Goyle, who's her cousin--so I have to trust that. Documentation. This will be part of that too.

Before that conversation it was more about Lindsey's training than anything else; she's not a chirurgeon and she doesn't do trauma or field work. Now, it's about Lindsey's attitude, and the attitude she encourages in her favourites. I'm going to tell Yvon all about it and then we'll see if something doesn't come out of this. Lindsey is fine for dealing with stupid firstie hexes and scrapes and falls. Lindsey is fine for teaching the intro course. Lindsey should never have been made the only magister doctor at a national school or a site this large or a potential military target. Ever. She thinks I'm after her job. Too right. If anyone dies because she's an idiot, I might just be after her head. I know Yvon can't be spared from Pantaleon's. But maybe they could give us Corinne Allison. She's competent, good in a crisis, knows her limits, smart and I admire her taste.

Mostly, all I care about is to get Lindsey gone from here. I don't even know where she could go. Maybe one of the smaller hospitals, Mamucium or Aquae Sulis, where they don't teach. She can't be the only healer in some small country town. She's just not good enough to be anyone's only hope. I know she knows more than I do about a lot of things. I even respect that. But knowing how to find your arse with both hands in the dark? That's also important.

And there's Yvon, with Corinne and Alessio. This might hurt a bit.

This is not going to end well. Goyle buggered up the main doors to the Great Hall during tonight's unannounced drill. The purpose was to trap everyone who was at duelling practise inside, so we'd have to practise figuring out how to get out.

People who weren't at duelling injured themselves trying to get in instead of going outside to the commons the way they ought to have done, if it wasn't safe. They would have probably kept doing it, if Dashwood hadn't suggested to people inside that they ought to go out through the kitchens. Then, when the people outside saw everyone who had been in there trooping past, they got the idea.

We are so buggered. I would have expected this from some of the first-years, but not from the people who were doing it. If we're attacked, it's going to be a bloodbath.

Smith and MacAlister were hearing voices. Smith never struck me as being especially strong-willed, even before the demon possessed him, but MacAlister? Fuck, no. That's genuinely worrying, and no-one could find a thing wrong with them.

Larkin wanted to make Juliana Leffoy wait for her treatment, not because of a valid triage consideration, but 'because of what she did'. Lindsey didn't take that near seriously enough. That was much worse than laughing at Lucy for something she brought on herself, and I got a stripe for that, too. I'm glad that Tirtzah and Moruith were there to come and get me. People forget that Tirtzah's in Avalon for a reason, but I'm not one of them.

Men are idiots sometimes, which makes boys idiots in the larval stage. But idiots in the larval stage aren't so bad when they know they're idiots and are willing to do whatever you say, and that is the thing that men forget how to do. I did lay Ayyar like a rug. And I'm going to do it again.

Andrew really did care for me. I could go to him and confess everything and we could make up, but there's no point in it, because then we'd be together again and I just don't want it. I had to tell him that if he exposed Yvon to Priscilla I'd ruin his life. Priscilla wouldn't do anything anyway, because where is she going to get another master field chirurgeon that brill whom the War Bureau absolutely won't take back for the front? If he's so horrified by what Mablin and Dylan get up to, he doesn't want to know what I am really like at all.

Dylan thinks I'm more versatile than I believe I am, or I wouldn't have liked some of the things I let Vonnie do as much as I did, but I think he's projecting (to use one of his favourite words). Dylan is absolutely in charge of everything around him until about five heartbeats before Mablin picks him up and throws him over his shoulder, ever and ever amen. I let Vonnie do that to me because I wanted to learn how to do it. And because he was helping me.

I am being a very bad Christian. Vonnie would say I'm the kind of girl men write bad poetry about. (I wonder if he's friends with Vigoreux. Dimity loves Vigoreux. I would hate to be someone's obsession myself.) By men he means himself, because I have SEEN some of the stuff he wrote about other girls. But he has a masochistic side too, because he loves me, even if he does love Alessio more. On the other hand, despite the endangered state of my soul, I think Ianthe Pritchard may just have decided I'm worth some respect after all. And I'm beginning to see Ros Clutterbuck's point about respect versus love. Andrew loves me. Raj respects me. Vonnie respects me, because I make him. And I know which one I like better. (Actually, Ros and Ianthe may just be my personal heroes, now I know Vonnie a little too well for that.)

So we’re being prepared for drills during teatime, which is really rather hilarious. It’s not exactly the sort of thing Celerity has in mind when she and her minions are serving, and I’m writing this in my notebook while Flint disgorges misinformation like she’s been interrupted with her kill. Someone made Cynthia Mulciber acting prefect in Charis’ absence. I hope she doesn’t take points off the third-years for Eating Too Much. I told her once that if God didn’t want her to eat, she wouldn’t get hungry.

Goyle put me on the Squad and he more or less told me that Lindsey’s going to rake me over the coals for it but he knows I’m better than that. I rather love him for it too. I want to write back, “Yes. Yes. I fucked Yvon. In his flat, in his office, in a club nobody knows I’ve been in and once in a linen closet at Pantaleon’s. I let him fuck me through the wall until I realised I’d rather be in charge of things. Which really is not his style, but it looks like it might be yours, given the way you always acted around Aunt Dracaena, and you know what? You could be next. If you wanted.” But Sir Lucian is here. So I won’t.

I’m torn. I want to lay Raj Ayyar out like a rug (it would so irritate Andrew) but at the moment I don’t think I can bear the thought of ever sleeping with anyone under thirty again. Men are idiots, and boys are idiots in the larval stage. And that includes you, Boss, not that it matters since you’re going to get married and everyone knows it. Just once I want to sleep with someone and have them NOT want to decide how I should live my life and what I should think about things. Even if they’re mostly right. Sometimes mostly right is even worse than dead wrong, because it’s so close to right that you might just fall for it. (Note: make the Boss aware that even if getting engaged would protect me from some things, I simply don’t want to be bothered.)

I should go to breakfast but I want a nap more than food. A lot more.

Andrew came up to see Crockford. He actually had the gall to ask me, in the middle of everything, if I knew who did it. People are burned and in pain and scared and he wants to know if I know who beat Crockford up. He believes I should care.

I don't get it. Crockford consorted with the enemy, he's not ashamed of it, he participated in the most egregious libel of my Aunt Dracaena and poor Endymion Dashwood, and he shoots off his mouth all the time. Somebody probably asked him where Olivia was, and he probably said something stupid.

The other kids I was working on just went to a stupid party. They deserved to get caught, so they’d learn to be smarter. Not this.

Apparently I’m to be punished for having opinions by being bored out of my mind taking inventory and cleaning. Oh, well, it could have been worse. I could be poor Lucy, getting fussed over, when what she really wants to do is forget all this ever happened. (Of course I don’t dare say that out loud because Lindsey being Lindsey, is entirely the sort of person that thinks you can just make someone forget, and then they’ll be fine. She knows nothing about mesmerism, and that you can’t erase things completely, and even if you could, you’d be taking away the lessons they learned as well as the painful parts.)

I do hope Livy’s all right. And that we don’t have to have Livy and Lucy in the infirmary at the same time (it would be disastrous if Livy found out what happened to Lucy, and Lindsey’s almost as discreet as Livy is).

Patty is being disgustingly righteous about Livy. I really wonder how she manages in Avalon sometimes. Fortunately, Colette knows how to shut her up.

Mercy wrote. I don’t know how Mercy managed in Caerleon! She wishes I were at the Manor, to get my hooks in Yvon while he’s down. I am fairly sure Magistra Allison will beat me to that one. If only she’d just decide if she wants him or not. She can have him, if she does. I really don’t see getting someone to betroth himself to me because the person they’re really in love with has married someone they just met overseas on a mission as all that attractive a prospect. Or likely to result in an actual marriage. But then Mercy is really not the person to ask about how to get married; I love her, but it’s true. Fortunately, I don’t want to get married.

Everyone’s mad today. Livy’s planning something, but she won’t tell me what it is. I suspect she doesn’t want me to get in trouble and she probably knows she will. I hope she’s not thinking of sneaking out. I know she was last week, and I even thought I’d help her then, but not now. Not after Claire and Giselle. Dolloway’s skulking about like she’s thinking of sneaking off somewhere herself. Do people really not realise what’s going on here? It’s bloody mad to try and get around the rules right now! I laugh when Lucy gets pranked, because she brings it on herself—mundane can’t be helped, but rude and aggressive and whiny can--but that doesn’t mean that I don’t care if she wanders off and gets killed!

I really wanted to go and have tea with Andrew in town. I sound like the worst sort of whiner, but I don’t understand why the people in Caerleon who talk about what’s fair all the time think it doesn’t apply to Avalonians. Gilly Greenwood wanted to work today (at least she’s reacting to all of this sensibly), and she really needs to get more hours in, but Lindsey doesn’t want her there today. I know I shouldn’t expect weekends off, it’s just that it seems so personal right now. And since everyone seems to be getting killed instead of hurt, there’s almost nothing to do. (It’s awful of me, but I wish it weren’t so boring in here right now.)

Yvon said they’d start fucking with my head this year and that I should just expect it, he said he’d do it to me himself and not to think that he wouldn’t, no matter how much we might like one another, if he thought I hadn’t been adequately prepared for the stress...but this isn’t that. This is silly and childish and personal. If Lindsey thinks she’s working me she ought to go back to dame school.

I hope Yvon will be all right today. I should really go and get something to eat now, even if it’s probably the most dreadfully boring food in the kingdom. At least she’s letting me out to go eat.

I had a good time tonight with Susie and Marlie and Addie, but you wouldn’t need to know even as much about mesmerism as I’ve learned from Yvon in the past month to know that something was very wrong. Apparently Prue Bainbridge came calling while Vonnie and I were down at Aunt Dracaena’s first Court and made a big deal out of the fact that Hadrian’s got back together with Endymion Dashwood. (Not that they were ever officially together or sleeping with each other or anything, but everyone knows Endymion always runs to Hadrian whenever he’s in trouble and Hadrian would charge an army of zombis to save him.)

I wish we hadn’t had to come back so quickly, but Doctora P would have lost her mind if we hadn’t returned when we said we were going to. I know what we’re doing, Yvon and I, is supposed to be wrong. But it makes me feel so much better about everything.

Lew and Bobby Macmillan are so happy together that I think it’s going to kill our mother. Who was horrid, but bearable compared to how she usually behaves. Tante Gabrielle made up for her though.

I am really worried about Doctora P. When we got back, she was already in bed. Susie tried her door but it was locked. The maid had cleaned things up but one of the globes from the wall sconces going up the stairs was missing and I can always tell when I’m in a house where someone has just had a terrible fight. It feels different.

Whenever I think I couldn't possibly hate my mother more, she always finds a way to surprise me. I think it's worst, actually, when she tries to be nice. When she's soft and kind and gentle for a few days, when you've just come home from school or being away, and she wants you to trust her, and the part of you that wishes you had a real mum wakes up and you start to believe that maybe this once she won't change back, won't stab you in the back with her blade of ice and let the point break off in your heart.

No wonder my brother would rather live with the sheep.

Hadrian’s gone. Doctora P said he’d gone to stay with friends, but she’s still trying to make us think her husband’s been staying away because of his work!

I’m thinking about asking Livy if I can stay with her. It’s so very awkward being here, overhearing and seeing all these things that we’re obviously not supposed to notice, and having to pretend that we don’t. I feel like I’m living under someone else’s bed! It’s fun being with Susie but she isn’t here all the time. I have no idea what was going on all day yesterday, but I know it was very important and it probably has to do with that letter we all got from Dimity saying that Bella was back.

Addie will be unhappy if we leave, but she spends so much time at the Peachtrees’ with Cassie Campion, which is fine because Cassie needs friends. I just don’t know what to do!

The Vieiras are having a ball and I’ve been invited. It has to be on Dylan’s account because Cynthia thinks I’m a slag. (I suppose I am, but Prudence Bainbridge is not any better!) I shouldn’t go, I’m supposed to be in mourning for Martius…but I sent an acceptance, anyway.

I can’t sleep. Addie woke me up and now Susie has gone back to sleep and she is snoring because we went out after work last night and she always snores when she’s hung over. I went downstairs with Marlie to see what she and Addie were doing but Prue Bainbridge is here. Marlie and I aren't on the schedule today but I think perhaps I am going to go in anyway and see Mary. Or maybe I will try to find Livy. Or write to Lew. And Tom.

I am not going to try to seduce Hadrian Kyteler. Who is safe, like other people’s boyfriends are safe, and whom I’ve kissed, and nothing happens where it matters. I really don’t need to die at the hands of Endymion Dashwood.

Who is another person who is not in love, oh no, not at all. I should really make lists.

Has it really been eleven days since I’ve written in here? Livy may be right. I might be turning into a grind. But I don’t think so, because I go out a lot. Even sometimes when I’d rather not. I go out a lot with Livy and Dimity and Colette quite a bit, but I go out more often with Susie and Marlie. Susie has a Britannia Novan boyfriend named Derek Greene, from Massachusetts--though he serves with a bunch of danes, and I think he’s probably some sort of spy. Not that this would bother Susie.

Marlie and Susie have been dressing me up like a dane. Marlie and Susie take the hair off their legs. I knew that about Marlie because she’s from the ‘danelaw and their women wear such short skirts, but I was shocked that Susie did it and there’s even a spell for it! Mother told me only prostitutes do that, but Marlie learned the spell from Susie who’s been doing this for years, and Susie says she learnt it from her father’s diviner who was a courtesan in Rome and who sometimes dresses like a dane when she’s working. And they taught it to me, so I could dress up like a dane, too. Marlie wants to take Mary next time, now that she’s better and working.

I feel naked. They took all of the hair on my legs and under my arms off. Susie takes off even more than that. And I don’t have sheer stockings, like they do, so they painted my legs. Marlie says that if the boys from BN like you they might give you stockings--that’s how they got theirs, and they charmed them not to tear because the silly things’re very delicate. They drew lines on the backs of my legs and I felt so stupid, but when we got where we were going, there were other women who had done the same thing. It’s rather a dirty thing to do, but my mother would hate it. Yvon thinks it’s funny, but then he would. He said I’m sharpening my claws. I told him I’d scratch him too if he wasn’t careful.

The boys are rather nice, and I could never marry any of them. Which is exactly what I want right now.

One of these days, maybe, if I’m very lucky...I’ll become interested in a boy who isn’t involved with one of my better friends.

Jamie Macmillan is wonderful, and knowing what he’s done, I’ll love him forever, but of course he belongs to Bella, and I’ve just sworn myself to help him elope with her. Andrew Gresham is a dream, and I could probably get him, but even though she jilted him, I’m sure Siobhan still likes him. Will Gage stopped by to see Marlie a while ago, and even though they’re not seeing each other (and there’s a GI who writes to her, too), I can tell he really likes her, and she really likes him, and something good might happen there if I can just stay out of the way. I could get his attention, I’m sure, but it doesn’t really belong to me.

And Edouard...well. I have as much of Edouard’s attention as I want, and with Livy’s blessing (of course, Livy has as much of my attention as I want as well), but he’s going to marry Livy, the contract is sealed now, and I’m not even interested in them any more, except as friends. Which is difficult. But Edouard doesn’t like how I’ve changed. And that’s his problem.

I know Magistra Allison and Yvon had something going. And she broke it off. But I don’t think she meant to. I should care about that. I should also care that she could get us in a lot of trouble, and that Lindsey’s not as stupid as she seems sometimes. But I can’t quite manage to get there.

There is something a little wrong with my head.

I got my shopping list. I wonder who the new prefect will be? I know it’s not Livy, she gets into way too much trouble to be a prefect. It can’t be Dimity; she’s sweet, but her marks aren’t as good as they could be. It’s bound to be Colette or Celerity. It can’t be Lucy. And Amalthea is such a bitch.

I still haven’t forgiven Chattox for choosing Ianthe last year. I was counting on that badge. I thought if I got the badge, surely Mother would understand that I was too intelligent to have to get married at sixteen and bear somebody’s children instead of doing the work I was meant to do. Bella’s bright and sweet, but she keeps to herself and her marks aren't as good as they could be; Nadya doesn’t like most people very much. Ianthe has a terrible reputation and she’s just a bit of a snob, even though her bloodline’s nothing special and she had Nat for an older brother. So I always thought it would be me, because I never get into trouble—I’ve never been switched, I don't talk back... But I forgot that Chattox likes the Pritchards—Nat was a prefect, too—and she never picks anyone from the Old Blood—she chose Marvell, even though she gets into all those fights, and she chose Cross which I don't understand at all—but it's not my fault that I'm a Rosier!

And Priscilla’s her sister. I thought Priscilla liked me but I’m never sure. She told me not to worry about Magister van Rensselaer, that he was like that with everyone and really I was very bright and talented, and that she'd write a letter to Magistra Chattox about the trouble I've been having with my mother. But she also doesn’t trust me with Yvon. I wish I knew which one of us she doesn’t trust. I don’t always think that it’s him. And maybe it shouldn’t be.

I got a black letter. Martius is dead. I’m free. My mother is making me wear black, but I was doing that for Aunt Dracaena, anyway.

Yvon wants me to come back to the hospital and Susie gave me an open invitation to stay at her house so my parents can’t complain about the dormitories. I'm going to do that; the Starns can't stop me and Father won't. I can’t go out and be social the way Mother wants if I’m supposed to be in mourning. Isn’t that the kind of thing the bereaved are supposed to go and do, in order to overcome their sorrows by helping others with theirs?

They just don't want me to see Yvon.

If I'm going to be punished for something...I might as well be guilty.

I wonder if he would.