Oh.
Well, that’s embarrassing.
Alistair giggles while Claudia scrubs her face with the back of her hand.
“Did I get it all?”
“Not quite. Here, let me help,” he says, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Leaning closer, he cleans off her nose and smiles. “There. All gone.”
She snatches the spoon from her tea and uses it as a makeshift mirror. Her nose is rubbed raw, but it’s ink-free.
“Thanks,” she says. “I promise to do the same for you if you ever have ink on your nose, or food in your teeth, or a stain on your shirt, or anything of the sort.”
“I’d say that makes us great friends indeed. So, tell me more about yourself.”
“Well, I was born in—”
He waves away her words. “Skip all that.”
When Claudia’s visibly taken aback, he says, “I don’t mean to be cold. I just know that there are more interesting things to be discussed.”
“Not a fan of small talk, I take it?”
“It doesn’t come naturally to me. Pleasantries take a great deal of effort. And Scientia tells us we’re born with a set numberof breaths that our lungs will take before they stop working. A breath is very precious. I don’t like to waste it.”
She laughs. “Well, that’s quite morbid and needlessly existential.”
“Existential dread is one of my many talents. Now, talk to me about something real. Tell me about your soul.”
She inhales sharply but stops herself from arguing further. She’s supposed to make a new friend, and dammit, she’s going to do it. Per Alistair’s instructions, she holds the breath in her mouth for a few seconds, savoring the air as a limited resource.All right, she thinks,no small talk.Alistair wants to know about her soul, but unfortunately, the most interesting thing about it is the piece that’s missing. The bite that Dorian took. When will she get to see him again? Does she even want to? She’s made up of burning questions—about herself, her fate, and this strange new world.
“My soul feels like it’s on fire,” she finally says.
“In a good way?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He laughs. “What stokes the flames? Stress? Ambition? Love?”
“Certainly not love, but yes to everything else.”
“Perhaps that’s your problem,” he says. “Love is a balm for all of life’s suffering.” He sips his tea and shrugs. “So I’ve heard, anyway.”
“You’ve never been in love?”
“Not yet. I’m working on it. There are a few men around here who have caught my eye.” His mouth slants. “I have such little practice, though, being from a small village that was less than accepting of any love that strayed from tradition.”
“That’s how my home was, too. It’s different here, then?”
“Of course. Cygnus encourages any pursuits that fuel desire. Romance of any kind is welcome.”
She smirks. “So you’re a romantic, then.”
“I wish. I’m horrible at it. I don’t understand the song and dance of it all. I want to skip to the good part.”
“What’s the good part?”
“You know, the part where you know each other deeply, and there are no secrets between you. When you get to drop the masks. When you both are completely and entirely comfortable with each other, with no frills or pomp. That’s what I want.”
