Claudia stays up until dawn trying to decipher what effect Odette was trying to cause with her spells. The first one she ever found spells outPROTECT ME FROM HIMin the shape of the Hydra constellation. The second is more confusing—it’s the Lyra constellation, but Claudia isn’t sure how it should read. There are two lines running into each other, converging in two places: death and mercy.
You are a lyre which charms death to defy its nature with mercy.
You are no siren. There is no death in your song—only mercy.
It must be about Marcherie. Was Odette trying to protect her?
The last one is the strangest:I am the raven who thirsts for you. You are both the figs and the wine, always out of reach. The god and his monsters punish us for our wanting but still I want to feast upon you.
This is in the shape of Corvus, Crater, and the Hydra.I want to feast upon you… always out of reach…
Odette wrote this one after she attacked Marcherie. Maybe she was trying to create distance around them, ensuring Marcherie was kept safe and out of reach.
Claudia isn’t sure of her interpretations, nor does she know if this mix of magic works. But it’s promising. Could it be the solution to freeing herself from Sidarphion?
It must be. What better way to undo a cosmic bargain than to unite the powers of language and stars?
Imagining what constellations could break this bargain, she tries Andromeda—representing the trap—and Vulpecula, the fox, representing her escape. For hours, she fiddles with words until a simple poem emerges.
She reads it aloud:
When forced, the lady becomes a fox,
Her heart an orange flame.
She escapes the starry locks,
And icy, god-touched chains.
Nothing happens. No brilliant flash of light, no trembling stars. Should she write it in blood? Should she add another constellation?
Her concentration breaks when she hears a key sliding into the handle of her door and shaking, though no one is getting in here, even with the right key. Claudia locked it with celestial magic.
The person behind the door fights with the key and the handle, scraping them against each other. Swiveling her chair, Claudia faces the door and watches the handle struggle against the lock.
It must be Marcherie. She never returned her key.
“Marcherie? Is that you?” Claudia asks over the sound of clanging metal.
The noise stops.
Claudia stands, taking two slow steps toward the door. “March?”
There is one more beat of silence, and then comes a loud, forceful bang as if the person behind the door is slamming all their weight into it. Over and over again, the sound bangs through the room. It makes the walls shake. Claudia covers her ears and cowers where she stands. Books fall from the shelves. Lightweight chairs stumble over the vibration in the floor. High-pitched clawing sounds over the booms like they’re trying to dig through the wood of the door. Bishop winces and curls into his hide.
Is this real? Did her spell cause it?
Hands pressed to her ears, Claudia yells out, “STOP.”
Just as suddenly as it began, the incessant noise ceases.Claudia remains crouched on the floor, her chin to her knees. Keeping her eyes on the door, she doesn’t make a sound. The seam of light at the bottom of the frame is interrupted by two shadows where someone still stands.
“Who’s there?”
There is no response and no movement—only a scratching sound, like a dull pencil on expensive paper. Seconds later, a small note is slipped under the door. The shadows disappear as the person walks away. Stiff with fear, Claudia takes a long time to untangle her limbs. Breathless, she crawls across the floor and picks up the note. The front reads:
WAKE UP.
She flips it over.
