If her curiosity costs her the debate, so be it. She’ll find another way to earn Cassius’s praise.
Rather than wasting one of her questions to ask for permission, she says, “I’m going to ask you about something other than the debate topic.”
Malevimus doesn’t respond.
She stumbles over the first word when she asks, “Wh-who killed Odette Dufort?”
The candle flares so brightly it makes her step back. Sparks fly around the room and die out in the darkness.
“No one,” Malevimus says. The candle flickers four times. Four questions left.
Claudia knits her brows.No one?So, there’s no killer at all? That doesn’t sit right with her. It doesn’t ring true in the ear. She needs to try again. Like Olivier said, it’s all in the wording.
“How did Odette Dufort die?” she asks instead. It could’ve been an aneurysm like Alistair said.
There’s barely a pause before the god says, “She did not wake up.” Three flickers.
Confusion grows over her face. Frustrated, she shrugs, throwing up both her arms. “Why did you choose me to replace her?”
“I had no choice.” Two flickers.
Embarrassment burns in her cheeks. Of course Malevimus didn’t want her. It’s like Dorian said—she’s only here because of his bargain, and he could easily send her away.
Her voice trembles when she asks, “So, you would have chosen someone else?”
A strange sound vibrates through the room, almost like a laugh. “No.”
That answer is a bit of a balm. Nevertheless, she’s now wasted four of her five questions, and just like Olivier warned, she’s gleaned nothing useful. It’s pointless to continue down that line of questioning, so she decides to use her last one for its intended purpose: the debate. “What is the greatest reason for punishing the gods?”
“Punishment is a cure. Without it, gods become devils.”
The words echo in her mind as she tests them in different parts of her argument—it works in her opening statement, but it chills in her closing. She loves it. It’s a perfect capstone to her position.
She clasps her hands together and looks up at the arched ceiling. “Thank you, Malevimus.”
Out of questions, she turns and walks toward the door, eager to escape the heavy presence of the god. When she reaches for the handle, the startling warmth of that holy voice returns.
“Claudia, wait. I must share a message.”
She whips back around. What is she supposed to say to that? She doesn’t have any more questions. She’s not entitled to further information.
But who is she to reject the wisdom of a god?
Stepping back toward the center of the room, she says, “What is it?”
The candlelight turns unnaturally red, casting an impossiblybright light across the entire room. Claudia sees a giant shadow cast upon the ceiling as if there is a figure standing over the candle through which the light cannot pass. It’s not a man—it’s a monster.
“Tell Cassius his dreams are real. The curse of silence will end with him.”
She freezes—so does the entire room. Even the flame of the candle pauses, hardening into a stiff blade.
This is not supposed to happen. Odette tried to speak to Malevimus for Cassius, and even she was met with silence.
It should be impossible.
“H—how are you able to give me a message for him? He’s supposed to be cursed to never commune with the gods, even through someone else.”
“You are out of questions.”
