“It’s true. You and I are quite entangled.” His hands still for amoment, and his eyes lose their focus, as if he’s staring at a different place and time altogether. “But I also know you, Clara, and I know there’s always a reason with you. A purpose behind every choice.”
I could lie. Could pretend this is purely about wanting to see him, about missing what we had. But we’ve both played enough games, told enough half-truths. I’m already concealing one treachery from him…If I’m asking for his help, he deserves honesty—at least from here forward.
“I have reason to believe the key ingredient for the powder needed to ink the vessel is here in the academy.”
His hands pause in my hair. “You met with the Worldkeepers.”
It’s not a question. I shift to get a better look at him and find him studying me with that sharp intelligence I’ve always found both attractive and mildly unnerving.
“Fine,” he says when I don’t respond. “Don’t confirm it. But know that it’s easy for me to piece together. You disappear into the tunnels, evade the enforcers, manage to pull yourself together—a feat that requires some amount of resources you did not have—and then return with a very specific task that hinges on knowledge you didn’t possess previously…” He resumes washing my hair, his touch still gentle despite the calculation in his voice. “The only people who would know about the vessel card beyond my family are the Worldkeepers.”
I just smile, neither confirming nor denying. It’s answer enough. “Will you help me find it?”
“I would defy destiny for you,” he murmurs, and the simple certainty in his voice makes my breath catch.
I grab his wrist, water sloshing as I turn to face him fully. “Thank you.”
His thumb traces across my knuckles. “But if you’re hunting for this information, Clara, we’re going to need to conceal your identity.”
“I don’t think Clara Redwin can be salvaged at this point,” I say dryly. Less than one week ago at the Feast of Cups, I ruined the hope of ever using that name again.
“It won’t be Clara Redwin. It won’t be Clara at all. Your newidentity must be completely different and more concealing than ever before.”
I don’t bother suppressing a groan. “I’ve had enough new identities to last a lifetime. Besides, I’m too recognizable to too many people now for a bit of hair dye or a new name to do the trick.” I’ve already thought it through and resigned myself to stealth.
“I’m suggesting a lot more than hair dye.” His expression has turned serious, almost calculating. I’m a challenging problem he’s working through.
“An illusion?” The Seven of Cups can modify one’s appearance in small ways—hair a touch longer, eyes a shade brighter or darker. But it’s not real and usually detectable at close inspection.
“Not an illusion…The only perfect illusion that can trick all the senses and can’t be seen through is made with the Moon. But even that is temporary. We will use magic, along with more practical methods.”
“What do you mean?” A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with the cooling bathwater. His tenderness has vanished, and once more I see the prince, the general, the schemer.
“You’re right, hair is simple enough to dye.” His fingers trail through my wet strands almost absently. “But the rest…bones might need to be broken and reset. Skin changed. Magic to redesign the meat beneath the flesh…It will not be easy, or painless.”
I follow his logic with horror—but also with budding fascination. “You’re not suggesting…”
“We’ll need to remake you so completely that not even your closest friends would recognize you.” The way he speaks…Iknowthe idea of reconstructing me from scratch appeals to the side of his genius that borders on madness.
“You must be joking.” I’ve never heard of anyone doing anything like this, ever.
“I see no other way.” His expression is deadly serious now, all traces of earlier warmth gone. “It was one of our mistakes last time. Ravin probably recognized you after Halazar, even if he couldn’t place exactlywhere he’d seen you before given the state you were in. By the time he could, you were under my protection as student and betrothed. But you’re right that we can’t use that card a second time, and you cannot afford to be recognized again. Not when you’re Oricalis’s most wanted.”
The implication weighs heavy; I drain the tub and fill it with fresh water as I try to process what he’s suggesting. The idea of deliberately breaking my own bones, of carving away pieces of myself…it’s a curious prospect in theory, yes. But to actuallydo it?
“I won’t let anyone see me,” I say. “I’ll stay hidden.”
“But what if someone does see?” He leans forward, dark eyes burning. “All it takes is one person, Clara. Especially with you here, where two-thirds of the student body and the vast majority of staff and faculty recognize you. It’s not a risk I want to take. I’ve already spent far, far too long thinking I’d lost you forever.”
The raw emotion in his voice makes my throat tight. For all his calculation, his cold pragmatism, the thought of losing me again clearly terrifies him.
“It’s not your call,” I say softly.
“It’s not,” he agrees. “But think about whether it’s a riskyouwant to take.”
Even though he doesn’t say it directly, I hear the unspoken words:Think about your sister.If Ravin finds me, he’ll use me to find her. And then it’s over for both of us. If I somehow manage to conceal her from him, she’ll be at the mercy of others while I’m Ravin’s captive. The Starcrossed Club is officially disbanded. Could I trust Twino and Ren to hide her? Could I trust Gregor to do what must be done? The Worldkeepersmightcome for me, but only because I have knowledge they need, and I’ll be even more indebted.
There’s only one choice to be made, and I know it as well as Kaelis does. But I can’t bring myself to say it. Not after all I’ve lost—my mother, my name, any hope of a normal life. But when Arina comes to, she wouldn’t recognize me, and that hits almost like one of Ravin’s kicks to my gut. I can’t gain something without losing something.
