This is damning evidence that the gods must be punished. They are not always good. They can be slimy, night-slick, soul-trapping, and blood-cursing gods who deserve to experience all the pain they’ve dealt. Why would Cassius ever choose to argue for their impunity? He should want to see them punished more than anything.
The thought strikes her then—anyone can become a god, right? Perhaps that is Cassius’s ultimate aim. He wants godhood for himself, and once he ascends, he doesn’t want to be punished for how he exacts his revenge.
If the tale of Dracoemagyl is to be believed, then perhaps Cassius deserves revenge more than anyone she’s ever met. Maybe even more than Dorian.
But this evidence only strengthens the theory that the MacLeods are the ones who have been murdering celestial witches. It must be them—a bloodline out for blood. They want to punish Sidarphion. What better way to get the attention of a god than by slaughtering his lambs?
DISROBED
Thou honors thine inner animal when wearing nothing but the sky.
Orteslux, God of Death and Flowers
Cassius MacLeod is almost certainly a murderer. Claudia Jolicoeur doesn’t care.
Well, no, that’s not true. She does care. Just not right now.
Because if he wanted her dead, he would’ve killed her last night, and he didn’t.
Instead, he did something Claudia can’t name, can’t explain, and can’t stop thinking about. Right now, she’s searching through the Lexora for any book that can put a name to what they did. She thumbed through one calledThe Art of Making Love, which was unhelpful and too soft. Next to it wasA Study on Marriageand Wifehood, which she skipped entirely. Now she’s scanning through the pages ofAn Introduction to Deviance.
Deviance is to stray from customary erotic conduct and venture into indulgence. A deviant—be they dominant or submissive—seeks pleasure not in the act of sex alone, but in the art of it. There is delight in intimate imbalance: the pleasure one feels in commanding or being commanded, in restraining or being restrained, in punishing or being punished, especially within the theater of sex. These pursuits are complex expressions of trust. Far from perversity, deviance is a study of consent, wherein power is not abused but rather thoroughly explored in pursuit of pleasure.
Yes.Yes.This is it. She takes the book back to her room, settles in her favorite spot on the balcony, and devours the work in one sitting.
She encounters countless new concepts: Bondage, sadism, masochism. Dominance and submission. Wax play, knife play, blood play. Humiliation, asphyxiation, voyeurism.
Her center throbs.
This is what she is—what sheandCassius are: deviants. But they need to do it correctly. According to this book, they’re supposed to have safe words, boundaries, and a system in place for aftercare.
And, according to Claudia, they need to kiss.
Otherwise, she can’t use her newfound power against him, she won’t know what scares him most, and she’ll have no advantage over him.
She tells herself that this is all in pursuit of winning the debate, and the valedictorian’s blessing, but she knows deep down that it’s more.
She wants this. She wantshim.
She’s taking notes in her diary when Cassius comes out on hisbalcony below her. He doesn’t look up, so he doesn’t see her. He braces his elbows on the balustrade and looks out at the courtyard. Claudia can’t stop staring while he runs one hand through his hair, leaving it perfectly undone. He has a glass of amber liquid with him, and when he takes a sip, the light of the setting sun wraps around his sharp jaw.
She wonders what he’s drinking. What he’s thinking. If he’s thinking about her.
In her diary, she scribbles,WE NEED TO TALK, tears out the page, and crumples it up. Tossing it over the ledge, she aims for it to land next to his feet, but it hits him in the back of the head. He winces and glares up, but his harsh stare softens when he sees her.
“Sorry,” she says.
He picks up the paper and smooths it out to read. “What do we need to talk about, Star Girl?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you need to use your words.”
She needs to get close to him. Better yet, she needs to bring him close to her. They were in his room last time. He had the upper hand. Maybe if they play in her room this time, she’ll have more control over the situation, and she can finally get his mouth on hers.
Peering out farther, she checks if they’re alone—empty courtyard, empty balconies. Then, she slips off her scholar’s robe and drops it below. Cassius catches it with one hand and gives her a bewildered smirk.
Now in nothing but a black silk slip, she says, “Oops.”
