I hate Lamour. I hate him. I cannot stand our lessons. I don’t think he is particularly bright. He bores me. I can’t pay attention to anything he says or anything he asks me to read. I stare up at the stars and think of Marcherie. I study the meanings of different constellations and think of Marcherie. That star is the sharp point of her nose, the other is the freckle below her eye. The constellations, I realize, are all part of a grander, more perfect shape. They all represent different things—love, death, destruction, euphoria, heartbreak, sex, misery, fear; all of them, Marcherie. Everything, everywhere, points to her.
I love her. I want to swallow her and keep her inside my skin. I want my bones to keep her safe, my blood to keep her warm.
Perhaps this is paranoia talking, but if the killer who slaughtered the members of the Eyes of Andromeda is still here, I can think of only one way to stay safe and alive for my perfect girl, and that is to find Sidarphion and make him perform his duties. As the god of stars and nightmares, he should be protecting those who have been blessed with his magic.
The anxiety is too much for me. Everyone frightens me. Even, and I hate to say it, Marcherie does not see me fully relaxed. There is a glint in her eye, and beautiful as it is, I do not trust it.
I spoke to Cassius about it all. I kept as much information to myself as possible, because I can’t be sure he is innocent. Anyone could be the killer.
I don’t know, though. I really don’t. There is so much love in our group. While Angel and Cassius have drifted apart, we’ve brought in an absolute gem—Alistair Salone. He’s a Scientia major with too many quirks to name, but he makes me laugh, and he’s a damn good cook. I can’t imagine any of them hurting me. In truth, I can’t imagine any of us hurting one another. I think we’re soulmates. All of us.
That’s why I want to keep living. For us.
Sidarphion is the answer, and Cassius can help me find him, even if he doesn’t realize it.
I led him into my trap over a meal in the Treaty.
- What do you believe to have happened to Sidarphion? I asked him.
- I have my theories.
- Such as?
- None that I have enough confidence to share.
He paused.
- Yet, he added.
- Please tell me.
- Only since you begged.
Cassius believes that Sidarphion is asleep. That happens to idle gods, you know. All that power and nothing to do with it. It weighs them down, tugs at their eyes until they can no longer keep them open.
- Can he be awoken? I asked.
- Theoretically, Cassius said.
He was nearly right where I wanted him.
See, Cassius often speaks of Starlake, his family’s manor. I need to go there. I need to hunt through his family’s secrets. I want to go now, which is significantly earlier than our current plan of going there for our holiday break instead of returning to our homes. Cassius’s family is gone. The whole place belongs to him alone. He said that when we go there in December, we will have weeks of revelry all to ourselves.
There are parties at Cygnus, yes, but too often I find myself feeling either anxious or bored. Being bored is worse. Everyone watches us—me, March, Cas, and Bones. (Did I already explain why Alistair’s nickname is Bones? Haha—he would kill me if I wrote it down… Well, hopefully he wouldn’t actually kill me.)
The other scholars follow our lead. They sit on edge all night lurking, waiting for a chance to talk to us. All those eyes leave us with no privacy, no honesty. The plan to holiday at Starlake came about after the last “bacchanal” here at Cygnus, though I can hardly call it that.It was a bacchanal in theme, but nothing more. I want an authentic experience, one that separates my mind from my body. I want to be naked and feeling. I want to be strange and miraculous. I want to be undying.
And I need answers. I need protection.
So, I turned to Cas, and I said:
- Do you think a true bacchanal might be the way to wake a sleeping god?
- It’s possible.
- Can we agree that a true bacchanal will never happen here?
- Certainly.
