Air gets caught in her throat. She might explode. She might melt into a puddle of hot, sticky goop onto the floor right now. Can he feel her leg trembling in his grip?
“I want more,” she says. “I want to go back to your room and finish what we started.”
His gaze flicks down to her lips, then back to her eyes. “Then that’s exactly what we’ll do.” He stands up, taking his hand off her knee. “I’ll be at your door tonight at eight.”
She picks up her tea and raises it with a slight nod. “I’ll be the one in white.”
He gives her a real smile—not a smirk or a devilish grin. It’s pure and honest. It’s the most beautiful she’s ever seen him look. When he turns, the air around her grows significantly colder, and she’s suddenly overwhelmed with this horrible, dread-soaked feeling that she shouldn’t let him leave, shouldn’t let him out of her sight. She should jump up and grab his wrist and say,Don’t you dare go one single second without thinking of me.
But that would be deranged.
Instead, she stays seated like a normal, sane person and stuffs her face with victory cake in an effort to calm down.
A few minutes later, Alistair returns, lacing his fingers and using his hands as a prop for his chin. “Once again, spill.”
Claudia blushes. “We’re going to the recital and the afterparty together.”
With an open-mouthed smile, he says, “I knew there was something between you two. I saw it from the first week you arrived.”
“The first week?” She laughs. “Cassius hated me then.”
“He didn’t hate you at all. He just didn’t trust you.”
She finishes her sweets. “He said that?”
Alistair nods, smirking. “Among other things.”
“Like what?”
“Ask him on your date tonight. Angel and I will be in attendance as well.”
She claps excitedly. “I cannot wait.”
“Neither can I,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets. “Oh, also”—he pulls out Claudia’s thank-you note—“I thought this would be athanks for being my friendcard.” He slides it across the table toward her. “I didn’t get Bishop an enclosure.”
“You didn’t?”
“No.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Then who—”
Cassius catches her eye while he pours himself a cup of Earl Grey at the tea table.
He smiles.
MERDE
Dolericym, God of Song and Sorrow, grants the gift of feeling. Holder of the heart’s core, she receives scholars’ prayers for aid in understanding and calling forth raw emotion.
The Book of Cygnus: Dolericym 1:1–2
You know, I almost got married in this one,” Claudia says as Alistair laces the satin ribbons of her corset while they stand in the center of her room. She’s bracing herself against Bishop’s enclosure. Her curly hair is pinned up into a loose but sophisticated bun, pearls scattered like stars. If anyone looked closely, they would be able to see the constellation of Cassiopeia: beauty, lust, and, fittingly, punishment.
Alistair is wearing a burgundy button-down shirt with a fitted velvet jacket. His coattails stop just before the bend of his knee, and his trousers are nothing special until they catch the light and the golden thread glitters.
“What? You were in love?” He finishes lacing the corset and moves on to pulling it tight.
A corset-choked laugh explodes from her mouth. “Gods, no. It was arranged. He was a ghastly old man who promised to pay off my father’s debt if he could have my hand in marriage.”
