- Because I trust you the most. We’re alike, you know. Ambitious to a fault. Hungry to prove ourselves. Desperate for something good.
- I think you’re just telling me so I’ll take pity on you if we ever get paired for debate.
He laughed.
- I don’t want your pity. But I do want your help.
- With?
- I want to see if you can talk to the gods for me.
- We’re first-years, Cas. We’re not supposed to talk to the gods without a professor present.
- Don’t pretend you haven’t prayed.
I declined to speak. He smirked.
- That’s what I thought.
- What do you want me to ask them?
- Honestly, I don’t care. Anything. I just want to see if they’ll speak to me through someone else.
- What makes you think they’ll answer to me?
- Because you’re a godsdamn nightmare, and I mean that as the highest of compliments. If anyone can bend a god to their will—if anyone can force a god to answer—it is you.
I beamed at him. I’d never felt so seen. That’s something I have always appreciated about Cassius. He sees my ambition for what it is: violence. And he respects it.
He has it, too.
- All right. Let’s go to the chapel.
Cassius guarded the door while I lit the red candle. I did everything right. Every fucking thing. I crawled on my knees and called to Malevimus. He answered so fast that his booming voice made me jump.
- You are in danger, Odette Dufort.
- Tell me something I do not already know.
- You do not yet know what hunts you.
- Can you tell me?
He did not respond.
- Do you have a message for Cassius MacLeod?
Again, no response.
- Malevimus?
Nothing.
The candle snuffed itself out.
When I came out, I hardly had the heart to tell Cassius. I couldn’t look him in the eye. I just shook my head, staring at my shoes.
- Thank you for trying, he said.
