She looks at each of them, noting Marcherie’s peppy grin, Alistair’s steadfast sincerity, Angel’s hopeful eyes, and Cassius’s ever-growing concern because he knows her better than anyone and knows exactly what she’s going to say.
Shaking her head, she says, “I can’t.”
“Why not?” Alistair bites out. He’s so angry with her, as ishis right. She hasn’t offered any explanation as to why she’s changed so drastically. All Alistair knows is that Claudia was a good friend, and now she’s not. Angel moves to comfort him, but Alistair shoots him a warning glare. He clearly doesn’t want to be touched.
Pushing herself up from the table, she growls, “Because I don’t have time for games. I’m not like the rest of you. I was rejected. I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t run off and break the rules like that. Don’t ask me again.” She gathers the last of her lunch and turns to leave. The real truth is that she doesn’t trust herself to be with Cassius if they’re both in some half-mad, god-touched state. Her sanity is already depleting—something like an ancient ritual could be the thing that makes her lose control.
She would snap. She would kill him.
Over her shoulder, she says, “I’m going through something that none of you will understand, so don’t try to. Just leave me alone.”
As she’s walking away, she hears Alistair say, “See? This is why I’m worried. She’s starting to sound just like—”
“Don’t,” Cassius says, cutting him off.
“It’s not the same as Odette,” Marcherie says.
Alistair has the final words. “Not yet.”
She wallows in her room, pacing to keep herself awake, until she has an idea. If all three of them are gone, that means all their rooms are empty—including Cassius’s. He’s got so much history hidden in there. He lent her those papers about Dracoemagyl in the first place. Maybe she can find something else that can help her now. Perhaps something else about Dracoemagyl’s stars, or ascension rituals, or some secret miracle that could absolve a foolish girl from a devil’s bargain.
When night falls and she’s certain they’ve gone to Starlake—wherever it is—she steps out of her room. It’s the first time she’s felt alert and aware in days. The halls feel changed and unfamiliar. She barely remembers the walk to Cassius’s door, despite it being directly below hers. Confused, she accidentally walks in the wrong direction, toward the Scientia wing. It takes her an embarrassingly long time to correct her course. Just before reaching Cassius’s hall, she runs into High Sage Triche, nearly colliding with his chest.
“Oh, hello there, Miss Jolicoeur,” he says, his old voice jovial until she looks up and he sees her sad, swollen eyes. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” she says, but her voice cracks.
He releases a heavy sigh and looks at her with sad eyes. “Well, that’s not true, is it?”
Her lips quiver.
Don’t cry. For gods’ sake, do not sob in front of the High Sage who hates you.
“I’m f-fine.”
“Oh, dear, come here.” He pulls out a soft handkerchief and dots her face. After tucking it away, he rests his hand over his heart and places the other on her shoulder. “I have something I must say to you. Cassius told me that you’ve taken my threats of expulsion quite seriously, and I fear I was much too harsh. Cygnus is rigorous, but it should be fun. You shouldn’t forgo your friendships for your academic pursuits.”
She sucks in a breath and swallows down a hot swell of heartbreak.
“I’m very impressed with you, Miss Jolicoeur,” he continues. “Cassius has also shared with me that you pushed him toward the path of godhood, which was a selfless and wise decision on your part. Further, your professors have nothing but wonderful things to say about you. Professor Lamour in particular adores you. He says you are the brightest pupil he’s ever taught.”
She can’t hold back tears now. Silently, she nods and wipesher face with the backs of her hands. “Thank you, High Sage,” she manages to say. This is all she’s ever wanted. To prove herself. To earn her place based on merit alone. To truly belong. It sets her soul on fire in a good way. This is everything she’s been working toward for so, so long, and she’s close to losing it all.
“I once feared you posed a threat to my apprentice, and I behaved horrifically because of it. I recognize I can be overly protective of him, but it’s because—”
“I know why,” she interjects. “And I understand. I would feel the same way if I were you.”
His smile grows. “Be that as it may, I should have never spoken to you that way in the observatory. It was inappropriate, and worse, it was cruel. Is there any way I can make it up to you? Anything you need?”
The words are on the tip of her tongue:I need help.
But something in the back of her mind tells her not to ask. Perhaps she’s hesitant to risk ruining his newly positive view of her. Perhaps it’s something deeper. Something, somewhere deep inside her, tells her to keep her big mouth shut.
“No. The apology is enough.” She tucks her hair behind her ear. “I really appreciate it.”
“I sincerely mean it, Miss Jolicoeur.” Triche squeezes her shoulder once and drops his hand. “I regret my threats to you, and I regret your initial rejection. I was wrong. You belong here just as much as the others. I have absolutely no intentions of expelling you. This is your home now, and we’re happy to have you.”
Claudia continues toward Cassius’s room with a hint of a smile on her face.
