Claudia turns to see Alistair scowl and shiver. “That’s disgusting. How did you get out of it?”
He twists a few of her curls around her face. At the same time, she straightens his silk tie and pulls any and every speck of lint from his waistcoat.
“I came here.” She gestures to the room with a soft shrug.
“I see.” His lips curl under like he’s trying to stop himself from saying something.
“What is it?” Claudia asks, smoothing out his shawl lapels. “You look sort of…”
“Handsome?” He smiles, lifting his jaw to cut through the light.
“Of course, but I was going to say curious. You’re making your curious face.”
“I do not have a curious face.”
“You certainly do. You suck in your lips and look up through your lashes. It’s like you’re trying to put your question into someone’s mind using only your eyes.”
He looks dumbfounded, stepping out of her reach and regarding himself in the floor-length oval mirror. Over his shoulder, he says, “You’re getting to know me too well.”
She smiles when she leans close to the mirror to apply rouge to her lips and cheeks. She’s very nearly happy with her appearance, but something is missing. She rifles through her vanity in search of something to complete her look.
The pair are silent for a minute or so when Alistair asks, “Claudia, can I ask you about something sensitive?”
She turns to face him as her heart stutters. He never usesher full name anymore. They’re Claud and Alis, or Star Girl and Bones. This must be serious. “Of course.”
“Your arrival…” he says, trailing off.
She swallows. “The blood,” she says knowingly.
He nods. “Whose was it?” His voice is soft and cautious, like part of him hopes she doesn’t hear him.
Claudia clears her throat. “It was my father’s. We were fighting.” She closes her eyes tightly, as if waiting for the wet slap of blood to hit her all over again. There’s a part of her that wants to tell him the whole truth, but she can’t. Guilt grabs hold of her tongue and changes the story. “He tried to attack me, but he fell into the Doorway.”
She opens her eyes and looks over her shoulder to gauge his reaction, but his face is completely flat and unreadable. Her eyes turn glassy. “He was going to force me into that marriage.”
Alistair is quiet for a long time. Claudia silently prays for understanding, for empathy. For anything that will keep him in her life.
Finally, he sighs and says, “Then I’m glad he’s dead.”
He smiles and doesn’t ask any further questions. His attention falls to Bishop and the new enclosure.
Relief washes over her as she takes in her reflection. She thinks about her father’s death and tests the feeling of forgiving herself, but it still feels too far away. For now, the closest she can give herself is grace.
“Me, too.”
Three minutes before Cassius will arrive at her door, Claudia paces around nervously, skirting Bishop’s enclosure. He looks at her with concern.
“How do I look, Bishop?” She gestures to her dress. “We’re matching with all this white, aren’t we?”
Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror, she’s confidentshe’s met—no, exceeded—Cassius’s demands. Her dress is white as winter, her hair twirled up but still wild. She’s tied everything together with her mother’s emerald necklace, the pendant glittering like a wet eye at the base of her throat.
At the sound of a rhythmic knock at the door, she lets out a shaky breath and twists the knob.
There he is.
Candlelight licks the edges of his body, leaving a golden halo around his blue silk jacket. His billowing white shirt is cut into a deep V, tucked loosely into his tight black trousers. An obsidian pendant adorns his bare chest, ending in a sharp point that directs Claudia’s gaze down to his sculpted torso.
He’s…fuck, he’s divine. Here, wrapped in warmth, radiating dominance and control, he looks every bit of the god his ancestor was meant to become.
