Admiration, celebration, applause—he has everything a scholar dreams of. Is there anything worse than seeing the person you hate the most getting everything they want?
Actually, yes. There is. The worst thing in the world is seeing the person you hate the most getting everythingyouwant.
“Gods, I want to best him if only to wipe that damned smirk off his face,” she mumbles.
Alistair chuckles. “You and every other Rhetoric scholar. Now that Odette’s gone, Cassius will certainly receive the valedictorian’s blessing.”
“Blessing?”
“You don’t know? At graduation, the top scholar from each discipline gets a blessing from their patron god. It can be anything you want.”
Her eyes widen. Cassius neglected to tell her about this on their tour—on purpose, no doubt.
“Anything at all?” she asks.
He nods. “It’s essentially limitless. A once-in-a-lifetime wish.”
Excitement builds in her chest. She could have anything she wanted. She could restore her fortune that her father gambled away—no, that’s too small. She could master the stars in one single second. She could—
She could speak to her mother one last time.
For a second, the whole room stills.
This could be everything. She’ll ask her mother all the questions that have been burning in her mind for so long. She’ll get one last hug. One last whisper where her mother calls her “my Starling girl.”
All she has to do is win.
“Alistair, I need your help. If you will be my friend and help me best Cassius, I will help you win Angel’s heart.” She offers her hand. “Do we have a deal?”
“Is this how you establish all your relationships? Bargaining?”
“This isn’t a bargain.” That comes out harsher than intended. She smiles. “It’s a friendship.”
He ponders for a few seconds, glancing over at Angel one more time before taking her hand. “Deal.”
THE DIARY
Astrologia must be denounced. These ephemerides are composed to explain observable celestial phenomena, not to foretell the fortunes of men. Any superstitious use runs contrary to the integrity of Astronomia. Let those who seek omens look elsewhere; here we speak only of what can be measured.
An editor’s note in theConnaissance des temps, 1679
Bishop is gone.
Since returning from the Treaty, Claudia has turned her entire room upside down. Her bed is undone, her robes tossed out of her wardrobe, her drawers dumped onto the floor. Bishop is nowhere to be found.
Shit.Shit!If anyone else finds him, they’ll kill him. How did he get out? Her windows are locked. Her doors are closed. Thereshouldn’t have been a way for Bishop to leave the room. Did Marcherie report him? Did the High Sage come into her room and take him away? Panic rises in her throat. Her hands tingle. She paces around the room and breaks out in a cold sweat. With deep breaths, she tries to think logically—if the High Sage had taken Bishop, surely he would’ve told Claudia. She’d be in trouble in his office right now if he knew about her snake. And Cassius made Marcherie promise to give Claudia time to find an enclosure; as cold as the girl is, Claudia believes her to be honest. The most likely answer is that Bishop is hiding in some uncharted nook of the room, but Claudia won’t be able to rest until she’s sure he’s all right. Maybe if she finds him some food, she’ll be able to lure him out of wherever he is.
She’s about to head down to the condemned Astrologia wing to search for rats when she sees a little white head poke out from under the heavy wool rug.
“Bishop!” she squeals, dropping to her knees and picking him up. “Don’t scare me like that ever again.”
Her snake opens his mouth. At first, she thinks he’s hissing at her, but then he starts coughing and retching, wriggling his entire body the way he does when he tries to eat something too big. Eventually, he hacks up a crumpled piece of slimy paper. When he’s finished, he smacks his jaws and flicks out his tongue.
“I’m going to get you a proper house. I promise.” She looks for somewhere to place Bishop and settles for the edge of the bed. Kneeling down, she picks up the wet wad of paper and smooths it out.
“Where did you get this?” The writing is smudged but still legible.
September 10th
