“Please,” she cries as the world begins to disappear. “I can’t lose him. It will kill me.”
The world fades to white smoke.
When she wakes up, she can’t help but wonder if it was not adream, but a vision. Maybe she cannot change fate that’s written in the stars, but she knows a devil who can.
And the next time Claudia enters the Realm of Nightmares, she’s going to make another bargain to save Cassius’s life.
Even if it costs all that’s left of her soul.
LAMENT
To revoke magic is the greatest punishment a God can bestow. It is a fate worse than death that shall only be exacted on those who do not graduate and those who violate our cardinal rule: Thou shall not murder a fellow Cygni.
The Book of Cygnus: Warnings 5:17–18
Things are not going well.
But right now, Claudia is in a bubble bath. There are waxy white candles flickering and dripping all around her. The whole bathroom smells like chamomile and lavender. She’s eating a piece of chocolate cake. Her bedroom is, for once, clean. Her nightdress is freshly pressed, hanging on the back of her door. She’s caught up on homework. She’s caught up on her readings—yes, all of them, which is a miracle in itself. Don’t askher how she did it because she has no idea; all she knows is that one day, her to-be-read stack was only three books tall. She’d panicked at first, thinking that some books had been stolen, but it turned out that, somehow, she’d finished almost everything and returned all the borrowed books back to their homes.
So, tonight, she is resting. She is warm. Cassius is alive, and he won’t face the threat of death for one whole month. Even then, Claudia is bound and determined to ensure he survives. She’s accomplished everything else she’s set her mind to since arriving here. This will be no different.
Dorian will fix it.
She just has to be smart enough to find her way back into his realm.
She finishes her cake. Sinking below the water, she scrubs her scalp with silky shampoo and blows bubbles up to the surface. Ever since she was little, she’s always loved to be submerged in a bath. It’s the one place where she feels completely, blessedly alone. She can’t hear, see, or feel anything but the warmth of the water. There are no expectations, no responsibilities. It’s a brief moment of drowning—a glimpse at what’s waiting on the other side when there is finally nothing left to be done. Now it reminds her of Dolericym’s melodic embrace.
Sometimes, taking a long bath can feel like an act of theft, like she’s stealing time and focus away from her purpose and ambitions. But tonight, it feels earned, and she’s going to soak in this bath until her skin shrivels up and the water turns ice cold.
Coming up from the water, she takes a deep breath and flips her hair over the edge of the claw-foot tub, letting her curls drip rhythmically onto the floor. She hums “Iphigenia’s Lament” while she plays with the frothy bubbles resting on top of the water. Since the opera, she hasn’t been able to get the song out of her head. It clings to her like a name.
My goodness is a wound. My prize is nothing but a scar.
Over and over, she sings the last line of the song, feeling thefamiliar emotional heightening that comes from any of Dolericym’s music.
“You’re flat.”
Claudia’s head whips around to the door where Marcherie is standing with her hands on her hips. With a gasp, Claudia covers her chest with her arms and says, “What are you doing here? How did you get in?” Panic rises in her throat. The last time she saw Marcherie, the woman tried to murder her. Here, with Claudia naked and trembling in a tub, Marcherie looms over her like the sword of Damocles held by a hair-thin string of sanity. One wrong move and the blade could fall.
Marcherie pulls a gold key from her sleeve and lays it on the table below the mirror. “I still have a key from when Odette lived here.” Acting as though she owns this space, she pulls up a chair to the side of the tub and hangs her head.
Claudia laughs incredulously and points at the door. “Marcherie, get out of my bathroom.”
She acts like she doesn’t hear her. She doesn’t lift her head. With a sigh, she says, “I came here to apologize. Let me say my piece.”
Claudia stares at her, completely silent and still. Marcherie glances up, notices Claudia’s hard gaze, and looks back down.
“I’m sorry, Claudia. I’ve been awful to you since you arrived. I’ve called you a killer. I’ve threatened you. And all of that was before the opera. I can’t believe—” Her voice cracks. She slaps her hand over her mouth until she regains her composure. “I tried to kill you. I mean, I really wanted you dead. I wanted to slit your throat. I was going to—”
“I know.” Claudia runs her hand over the gash on her shoulder, still covering her chest with her tightly crossed arms. The water grows colder. “Your intentions were painfully clear.”
Her cheeks burn red. “You must know it was because of Dolericym. The music seized my mind.” Her eyes are wide, pleading. “I wish I was a Rhetoric student so I had the right words to explain myself. I’m truly sorry.”
“It’s fine, Marcherie,” Claudia says, not because she means it but because she’s naked and cold and she wants this woman to leave.
“It isn’t, though. I know now that you didn’t hurt Odette, and I need to make up for how I behaved when I thought you were her killer.”
“You don’t have to do anything.” With a hard swallow, she forces herself to say, “I forgive you. You can leave.”
