Hovering above him like vultures are Cassius and Marcherie. They’re speaking in harsh whispers when Alistair raises his hands in defense.
Cassius says something and turns his back to Claudia. She can tell he’s angry when his fist clenches around the back of her chair. His knuckles blanch. Marcherie points back at Claudia, scowling.
It seems Marcherie decided upon Odette’s death that she would accuse and ostracize whoever took Odette’s place. It has nothing to do with who Claudia is as a person, and she won’t letMarcherie win. She’ll be so kind, so warm, and so godsdamned pleasant that she’ll force everyone to like her. It’s just like back home when her father sullied her family’s reputation, and it was up to Claudia to uphold it while her father searched for her marital match.
She hates thinking of her father, hates the sour tang of guilt that always follows. Maybe her tea will make it go away.
Despite her rivals, she returns to her seat and carefully sets down Alistair’s tea in front of him. Looking up at Cassius and Marcherie, she politely asks, “Will you two be joining us?”
Marcherie laughs. “You and Alistair are not an ‘us.’”
Claudia holds up her cup. “We are for the duration of this tea. Isn’t that right, Alistair?”
He takes a sip and smiles. “Apparently so.”
“Lovely. So, as I said, would you like to join us?”
Marcherie turns her back to Claudia and crosses her arms over her small chest. “Alistair, you need to come with us.”
“I don’t need to do anything. Will the two of you please leave us? Our tea is getting cold.”
Cassius looks shocked. “Alistair, we’re not—”
“Cas, go.”
The pair look at each other, back at Alistair, then back to their empty table. Without another word, they go back to where they came from and take their seats.
Claudia doesn’t know why Alistair is choosing her company over theirs, but she’s in no position to question it. She gives them a saccharine smile and waves them away, sipping her tea victoriously. “Now, where were we?”
“Apologies for the interruption.” Alistair carefully places his cup back on the matching saucer. It clinks. “My friends felt it necessary to remind me that you are a murderer.”
A pang of guilt runs through her body, followed by a wave of calm when she realizes they’re talking about Odette’s death, not her father’s. No one knows about the person she killed—theyonly know about the one shedidn’t. She grinds her teeth together. “I didn’t kill Odette.”
“I know,” he says calmly. They sit in silence for a moment.
“What happened to her?”
“She died of natural causes. It could’ve been a number of things. Most likely an aneurysm.”
“That sounds horrific.”
“It’s quick and painless. It can happen to anyone at any time in their sleep. In fact, it’s most common in young women with high stress levels, and no one knew stress like Odette Dufort. She was married to it. Even being relaxed would eventually stress her out.” He looks at his friends across the room, then back at Claudia. “It’s hard for them to accept the truth,” Alistair continues, “especially Marcherie. Cassius and I lost a dear friend, but Marcherie lost the future the two of them dreamed of.”
“I understand their grief,” Claudia says. “I really do. I lost my mother when I was young, and I can’t help but think—” She thinks of the stars, of their warning. She blinks tightly. “I’ll always feel like something about it was deeply wrong. It’s simply not supposed to go that way, you know? Young children shouldn’t bury their mothers. And friends shouldn’t bury one another. It’s all wrong.”
“That’s the thing about death, though, Claudia. It’s natural, but orderless. It happens to everyone. It’s science. See, we Scientia students work with Orteslux, God of Death and Flowers, so we understand death more than the others. It’s the gift he grants. Some fourth-years have been able to peek past the veil to the afterlife. We know with unshakable faith that there is something after death. So, you see, I miss Odette deeply, but that doesn’t mean I need to analyze her death and pretend it was something unnatural. I accept what happened. I’m grieving in my own way. But speculating that she was murdered only makes everything worse. I told them I’d rejoin them when they regained sanity.” He sips his tea and seems suddenly aware of the tension in his body. His shoulders relax and he cracks his neck.
“I’m truly sorry for your loss, Alistair.”
“I’m sorry for yours, too.” He takes her hands. He’s warm. He’s kind. He’s better than she hoped for when she stole a seat at his table.
“You’re quite nice, you know,” she says, smiling.
He smiles back. “Claudia, now that we’ve made each other’s acquaintance, there’s something I must tell you.”
“What is it?”
He gives her a sincere look like he’s about to confess a dark secret. Then, he licks his thumb and brings his hand to her face. “People are staring because you have ink on your nose.”
