“Yes, well, Professor Lamour thinks I’m a ‘dispassionate student,’” she grumbles. “I’m going to prove him wrong.”
“Dispassionate? I would never use that word to describe you.”
“Right?!” She groans. “He infuriates me. Almost as much as Cassius.”
“Let the spite fuel you,” he says with sarcastic tranquility. He then raises his hands in a priestlike gesture, as if blessing the air with pettiness.
Claudia smirks. “Aren’t we supposed to be motivated purely bydesire?”
“Yes. The desire to spite your enemies.”
“Cheers to that,” she says with a laugh, toasting her teacup before taking another sip.
He smiles down at his hands and fidgets. “So, Claudia…”
“So, Alistair?”
Clearing his throat, he asks, “Remember how you said that if I help you beat Cassius, you’ll help me impress Angel?”
“Of course.”
“I want to do something for him. Something that’s clearly romantic that shows I’m interested.”
“Ooh, what are you thinking?” she asks, leaning in close.
“Well, that’s where you come in. I do not know. Justsomething. Do you have any suggestions?”
She reaches into the pocket of her robes and pulls out the spider lily that Dorian gave her. “Flowers? They’re always romantic.”
“A bit cliché, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but not if you grow them yourself. You are aScientia major, after all. I’m sure you could conjure something entirely unique in the greenhouse.”
He nods, staring off while a smile spreads over his face. “I like this. Keep going.”
“You could name the blooms after him, or make them his favorite color, or maybe find some clever way to honor Mathematica with them? You know, to show that you’re interested not only in him but also in his passions.”
“Math and flowers? How, though?”
She stirs her tea idly, pondering. “Maybe a certain number in a bouquet? Or…oh, I know!Effeuiller la marguerite!”
“Effe-what?”
“It’s a French expression that means ‘to pluck the petals of a daisy.’ Surely you must know the game; you pluck flower petals while saying, ‘He loves me, he loves me not.’” She demonstrates on her spider lily. “If it lands on ‘he loves me,’ it means that the object of your desire loves you back. You could design each flower to have the perfect number of petals so that when Angel plays the game, he will know you have romantic feelings for him.”
She finishes plucking the petals. They land onhe loves me not, which is surprisingly disappointing. Of course, she doesn’t think Dorian loves her, nor does she expect him to. She certainly doesn’t love him. Still, for reasons she can’t explain, it stings.
She sighs and hands Alistair the stem of her unpetaled spider lily.
He takes it, eyes wide with awe. “You are agenius.”
Rolling her eyes, she laughs. “Tell that to Lamour.”
When she returns to her room, Bishop is sitting on her pillow, curled over a slip of paper.
Another entry from Odette.
October 4th
