Chapter 5 Cygnus #2
The High Sage resumes his stride, and Claudia follows while he informs her of the rules: There are no curfews and the libraries never close.
The greenhouse is mostly for Scientia students, but it’s often open for other students to walk through and admire the magical flora.
The cafeteria provides two daily meals but the coffee and tea are unlimited, and there are always little snacks available.
Students are required to wear their robes at all times, except in the case of balls, recitals, or other occult rituals that require ceremonial clothing.
Theurgic communication with the gods is forbidden for first-year students, unless under the direct guidance of a professor.
Failure to complete assignments is grounds for expulsion, and expulsion warrants punishment from the gods.
Death is rare, but it is always an option.
There is a graveyard out back for fallen students.
Others can visit to grieve and to remind themselves what should happen if they fail.
Triche unlocks the door with a small gold key and hands it to Claudia before pushing it open, revealing her new home.
Stepping inside, she sees that the room is only slightly smaller than her room back home.
In the center is her new bed made up of fluffy white blankets and too many pillows.
The walls are a deep, textured red. Beneath the bed and stretching across the floor is an oval rug with a swirling pattern of burgundy, pink, and white.
Claudia is careful not to touch anything with her bloody hands.
From the doorway (not to be confused with Doorway), Triche says, “Upon arrival, students go to the chapel and bond with the god of their discipline in order to access their abilities. I would’ve taken you there first, but—” He looks her up and down and gestures to a large wooden door across the room.
“You have your own bathing chambers there. You can thank Caedisterra for that; we’re blessedly equipped with running water in every room.
You’ll also notice that the candles never burn out, which was a gift from Malevimus.
The classrooms clean themselves when empty, thanks to Dolericym.
Orteslux gifted us advanced technologies in the dining hall to create the most delicious meals. ”
“This is amazing,” Claudia says, staring up at the ceiling decorated with intricate plasterwork.
There’s a large ornate medallion in the very center that looks like an eye when she squints.
When she looks back at the High Sage, he’s giving her a warm grin.
“You’ll begin your classes tomorrow. Your robes are in your armoire.
Draw yourself a bath and prepare for my apprentice to come take you on a tour in the next hour.
He’ll aid you in your bonding ritual with Malevimus as well.
Is there anything else you require before I leave you? ”
“No, I’m—” She pauses. “Actually, I do have one question.”
“Do ask,” he encourages.
“What made you change your mind about me?” She has to know how Dorian managed to make this miracle happen.
He smiles. “I knew you were special from your application, but your deepest desire was to study a discipline that we no longer teach, and to practice magic that no longer exists. We had nothing to offer you. But when a place opened, Malevimus chose you to fill it.”
“Why me?”
He shrugs. “Only the gods know. But we are not to question them. He wanted you, and so, here you are. It is a great honor.”
“Absolutely, and I am deeply grateful. I just feel a bit…” She swallows. “Unworthy.”
“If you were unworthy, you would not be here. You would be dead.” He clasps his hands behind his back. “Have you any further questions, dear?”
“No, High Sage.”
“Very well. Please enjoy your new home and let me know if you need anything at all.” He turns to leave, but stops in the doorway and looks back.
“Oh, and Miss Jolicoeur, we’ve done our best to clear this room of Odette Dufort’s things and return them to her family, but if you find anything important of hers, give it to any of your professors.
Though if not of value, feel free to throw it away. ”
“Value is subjective, though. How am I to know what was of value to her?”
He glances over his shoulder and gives a gentle laugh. “Best to save your semantic questions for your Rhetoric professors. I can already tell Olivier will adore you.”
The High Sage leaves her alone in her room and closes the door behind him. She drops her suitcase on the wood floor and retrieves Bishop from her pocket.
“Hey there, Bishop,” she says softly, stroking his head. “How are you feeling?”
He flicks his tongue out twice, and Claudia sighs in relief. She really thought she lost him, and she never wants to feel that way ever again. It turned her into a version of herself she didn’t recognize—one filled with bloodlust and rage.
Gently, she lays Bishop on the bed and looks around her new home, though it’s hard to focus on anything other than how disgusting she feels, inside and out.
Two glass doors let in bright afternoon light and lead out to her private balcony. She pulls the white curtains closed over them—no one needs to see her right now. Hopefully, she can clean herself up and everyone will forget this bloody version of her.
The bathroom has a large porcelain claw-foot tub. She turns the handle on the bronze faucet and steaming water begins to rise. Within minutes, Claudia strips off her bloody clothes and sinks into the hot water. She groans in relief, scrubbing the blood off her skin and out of her hair.
Everything is going to be fine. She’ll wash the guilt from her body and she’ll never go back home.
She’ll stay as far away as possible from the student who humiliated her upon arrival.
She’ll pretend it never happened and that he doesn’t exist. She’ll make a great life for herself and it won’t matter what she left behind or who she killed to get here.
Surely, all those years of being good should count for something.
She just snapped for one second. It won’t happen again.
Her father is dead now—it’s not like she could kill him twice.
But did she kill him? It’s possible he could’ve survived the stab, right? It was the Doorway that killed him. He died because he was unworthy. That’s not Claudia’s fault.
So why is her stomach still churning? Why doesn’t her rationale make the guilt go away?
After watching the last of the bloody water spin into the drain, Claudia grabs a black towel from the rack on the back of the door.
Drying off, she walks over to her suitcase, where she pulls out a light pink chemise.
She then heads toward her armoire where she retrieves her first black scholarly robes.
They slide on with ease. There is her very own swan crest embroidered over her heart—red for Rhetoric.
She beholds herself in the gilded mirror on the wall and smiles.
She looks like she belongs here.
Her hair is still damp when there’s a knock at her door. She drapes her towel over Bishop on the bed to keep him hidden. When she opens the door, it’s him—the one who called her the star girl.
He opens his mouth to speak but pauses, eyes roaming over her form. He clears his throat. “You look quite different without all that blood.” Leaning against the doorframe, he surveys her and smirks. “I was eager to parade you around in such a state.”
“So that you could humiliate me further?”
“So that everyone could see how absurd it is that you’re here, and not just because of your application.”
“How did you even know about that? You’re no High Sage.”
“No, but I am his apprentice. I see every application that comes in and sort it by major. Yours was alone in its pile.”
“And you told everyone?”
“Of course. I thought it was a joke.”
“So, you gave everyone permission to mock me?”
“I never thought you’d ever be here. After I read your flowery essay about your dead mother, it was clear you didn’t belong.”
She wants to slap him, but she’s struck by the fact that she’s no longer merely a girl with a dead mother. Now she’s a girl with no parents. No family at all.
They’re all dead.
All she has left is Dorian, and that thought chills her to the bone.
Fists balling at her sides, she snaps, “Apologies that my suffering wasn’t compelling enough for you.
Good thing the decision was not yours to make.
” She steps forward, chest to chest with him.
“I earned a place here. Malevimus chose me. I stand equal to you, and I don’t deserve to be treated like this. ”
“I disagree. I don’t trust you, and no one else should, either. And I’m deeply curious as to how you managed to get Malevimus on your side. Frankly, your first application should have deemed you just as unworthy as whoever died in your Doorway.”
Her throat tightens when the image flares in her mind again, as if it’s happening right in front of her. Her father. The blood. The guilt.
She shakes her head and glares up into his eyes. “I’ve done nothing to you. You don’t know me at all and yet you’re being so…” She’s so angry and flustered that she can’t find the proper words—only improper ones.
“I’m being so what? Use your words, rhetorician.”
An incredulous, shaky laugh escapes her. She can’t think of anything but “So fucking awful.”
He shrugs, unaffected. “I’m not being awful. I’m being articulate. Your acceptance is inexplicable, unless there is something darker at play.”
“No, you’re so—” She stops herself with a groan. He’s riling her up on purpose. Her jaw tightens. “I’m not taking a tour with you.”
“Do you want me to report your unwillingness to fulfill your obligations to the High Sage?”
She stutters over her response and he rolls his eyes, holding open the door for her and gesturing her forward. “Let’s go, Star Girl.”