“But you just said—” She stops herself and sighs. It’s probably not a good idea to sass a god. But Claudia is terrible at taking no for an answer, and she’s even worse at leaving curiosities unsatisfied. She may be out of questions, but she knows someone who isn’t. “Can I use Cassius’s questions in his stead?”
Malevimus doesn’t answer for a long time, but Claudia doesn’t move. She won’t relent. She won’t leave without a fight.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity of standing with her arms crossed and tapping her foot, the god answers her.
“Yes.” The candle flickers four times. Four questions left.
She takes a deep, steadying breath. “Why am I an exception to his curse?”
“The curse of silence has no power over you, for your soul is tied to the origin and the end.”
She’sconnected to this curse? How? It began aeons ago, long before she or Cassius ever existed. Her mind and her heart are racing. Maybe killing celestial witches will be the means by which the curse breaks. That could explain why Claudia is tied to it.
Maybe Cassius is going to kill her.
“Did Cassius have any involvement in what happened to Odette?”
“No, he did not.”
Then who did? The question almost spills out of her mouth, but she swallows it down. She can’t keep letting thoughtless questions ruin this.
“Is Cassius going to kill me?”
“No.” One flicker. One last question.
“Then why did Dorian tell me to stay away from him? I don’t understand why he was so furious. What makes him convinced that Cassius is dangerous?”
That’s too many questions, but she couldn’t stop herself.
The floor rumbles and groans. The candle erupts in a final, blinding flash of bloodred light. The last words from Malevimus are “Dorian lies.”
THE DEBATE
O, my child, close your eyes and see
How the stars can change in dreams.
Excerpt fromThe Dreamerby Heathcliff MacLeod, Cygnus Valedictorian of Rhetoric 1444
Claudia is standing beside Professor Olivier outside the chapel doors, waiting for Cassius to come out.
It’s killing her. She needs to speak to Cassius, alone, immediately. He’s not a killer. He didn’t kill Odette. And she doesn’t have to feel guilty about caring for him, because Dorian’s warnings no longer matter at all.
Dorian lies.
What does that mean? Malevimus was cruel to tell her that when she had no more chances to ask for clarity.
Maybe she needs to turn her attention to a man who’s a dreamer—not a nightmare.
Claudia’s lost in her thoughts when Olivier asks, “How did it go?”
“Hm? Oh, it was fine.” She nods vehemently. “Good. He said… um… lots of stuff. Good answers. Good. Very good.”
Her professor purses her lips, tilting her head to the side. A graying tendril falls across her spectacles. “You seem a bit rattled.”
Since Claudia’s in no position to share all that she learned from Malevimus, she simply shrugs and avoids looking directly into Olivier’s eyes. The woman is essentially a High Priestess of a god who grants the gift of truth. She must be able to tell a lie from one wrong facial twitch.
“It was intimidating at first,” she says slowly to avoid stumbling. “I’ve never spoken with a god before. But I’m happy with how it went. I feel…” She trails off searching for the right word. Excited? No. Anxious? Kind of. Lustful for Cassius? Gods, she can’t say that to herprofessor. Why won’t her mind work?
