She kisses his cheek. “I can’t, my love.”
He moans. “Say that again.”
“I can’t?”
“The other part.”
“My love.”
His eyes flutter closed. He smiles. “Again.”
“My love.”
Moaning in her ear, he says, “Don’t you want to stay here in my arms and call me that over and over?”
“Yes.”
“Then let’s do it. Stay right here. Lay your head on my chest. Let me run my fingers through your hair. And we’ll never get up again. We’ll lie together like this for the rest of our lives, and it will be perfect.”
“It sounds like a perfect plan.” She kisses him. “We’ll start tomorrow.”
“When will you be back?”
“Very late. Don’t wait up for me.”
“You think I’ll be able to sleep without you?”
“You must. We have class in the morning.”
“Who can think about class when there is love?”
“You need your rest. I’ll see you in the morning, and even better, I’ll see you tomorrow night, and we can relive this moment over and over, every second for the rest of our lives.”
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
His stare is intense, as if he’s searching for any hint of a lie inher eyes. Earnestly, he says, “I love you, Claudia Jolicoeur. Hurry back to me.”
With one final kiss to his lips, she whispers, “I will.”
Though she doesn’t know it yet, that will be the last lie she ever tells him.
MIDNIGHT
Sidarphion, I beg thee to bless me with a midnight endless. When the clock cleaves the night, grant me the power to slow the spend of the hour for an infinite indulgence of my desire.
Isra Walker, Cygnus Valedictorian of Astrologia 1313
Claudia is buzzing with excitement while she walks through the dark corridors of Cygnus. She’s so close now. Tonight, Lamour will fix everything. She’ll be free from Sidarphion. Cassius will be saved. A lifetime of happiness will be theirs for the taking.
Sliding past the gate to the Astrologia wing, she spins up the spiral staircase and reaches the observatory. The door is slightly ajar, which is odd. Lamour always locks it, even when he knowsshe’s only minutes behind. He’s too anxious to leave it unlocked, even for a second.
She smells it before she sees it—the blood. Sour and hot, it smells fresh. Her breathing speeds. The edges of her vision fray.
Lamour must have hurt himself with a new spell. He could be dying. He could be dead. Without wasting another second, she charges inside.
All the air leaves her lungs. Before her, everything sharpens, then blurs again.
