Still smiling and snuggling Bishop, Alistair says, “He’s a legacy student. His family has been attending Cygnus since its inception. High Sage Triche is training him to be his eventual successor when the old codger finally goes. Some even say he’s a descendant of a god.”
Claudia barks out a laugh.
“I know it sounds absurd, but it is technically possible.”
“Agod, Alistair?” she asks, still laughing. “Be serious.”
“I am. The gods were all human once. Aeons ago. Theoretically speaking, they could have had children before their ascension, and those children could have had children, and so forth.”
“But if it happened before their ascension, then their descendants would simply be regular humans, right? Would that ancestry grant them any sort of advantage?”
He shrugs. “If my patron god was also my millionth-great-grandfather, I’d expect some special treatment.”
“Have you ever asked Cassius about it?”
“Of course I have. He denies it.”
“But you don’t believe him, do you?”
He sighs and sits on the edge of the bed, stroking Bishop. “I don’t know what I believe. But I know Cassius has his secrets. I can only wonder if this is one of them.”
Claudia crosses her arms over her face and lets out a deep, melodramatic groan. “Well then, he’s definitely going to win this debate. He probably has some secret family history to help shape his argument.” She runs her fingers through her hair and tugs at the roots, as if she can rip her frustrations out of her head. “You know, maybe he is connected to Malevimus. I bet his tongue is enchanted or something.”
A devious grin stretches across Alistair’s face. “You think so? What do you think his enchanted tongue can do?”
She grabs a pillow and whacks Alistair’s shoulder. “I meant it’s enchanted in a rhetorical sense.”
“Sure you did,” he says with a wink. “If Cassius has crucial information for the debate, ask him to share it with you. Olivier said you two have to work together.”
Shaking her head, she says, “Even with Olivier’s warning, I know he wouldn’t share anything from his personal collection. He would say no.”
“You don’t think you could convince him to say yes?”
She laughs incredulously, forcing an exaggerated shrug. “How?”
Alistair reaches over and tucks Claudia’s hair behind her ear. “He does like to look at you.”
Swatting his hand away, she says, “That’s called glaring, Alistair. It’s not a sign of affection.”
“It’s a sign ofattraction. Use it to your advantage.”
“Are you deranged? Cassius isn’t attracted to me. He wants me gone. Sometimes I think he wants me dead.”
“Oh, he wants you, all right.”
Claudia rolls her eyes and stands from the bed. “A month ago I had to teach you when to smile back at a man, and now you’re an expert on attraction?”
Alistair blushes. He finally finished his flowers: Angel Wings, he named them—swooping white petals that always end on “he loves me” when plucked. Angel adored them, of course, and the two dined together in the Treaty that evening. Claudia was there, too, although Angel wasn’t aware. Per Alistair’s request, she sat across the room and gave him periodic smiles for emotional support. Since then, Claudia and Angel created a schedule to share Alistair. Claudia gets him during the day—lunch, snack breaks, and library-browsing time—while Angel gets him in the evening for dinner, moonlit strolls, and… bedroom activities, as Alistair so sheepishly described it.
“Just try it. You’re more powerful than you think, Star Girl,” Alistair says.
She sits down at her desk and glowers at him. “You know I hate that nickname.”
“Yes, well, I hate mine, too.”
Claudia has learned recently that the whole group made pet names for one another—Marcherie is both March and Marchie, Cassius is Cas, Odette used to be O, and Alistair is, inexplicably, Bones. He won’t tell her why. He says it’s too embarrassing.
And Claudia is, of course, Star Girl.
