Chapter 10 Desire #2
I was torn between Lamour’s offer and his warning—stay to learn the stars at the risk of death, or leave, lose my magic, and survive.
How could anyone make that choice?
In the end, I didn’t. I hung my fate on the lips of a beautiful girl.
Her name is Marcherie Andres. She is a Musices student—the best of them.
I saw her on the very first day, and I swear, I felt the world cant.
I was sitting in the Treaty with Cassius—my friend from Rhetoric—and Angel, a Mathematica major.
They were speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear them.
Couldn’t make sense of anything other than her.
She was all the way across the room, but it’s like every other sound sank beneath the melody she was humming.
It was a siren song, and it felt like she was singing it for me.
I decided that if I had to leave Cygnus, I would not do it without having kissed her just once. And if the kiss was worth dying for, then I would stay.
Yesterday, I sat with Cassius and Angel in the Treaty again, staring at Marcherie at her faraway table with her fellow sopranos.
- Angel, are you willing to break a rule for me?
- I’m willing to break any rule worth breaking, he said, and he winked.
- Good. I need you to perform some mathematical magic without bringing in a professor for supervision. This is a private matter.
- Easy. Go on.
- I’ve read that Caedisterra grants the gift of chance. You Mathematica majors can calculate the chances of anything, correct?
- Correct, he said.
- Someone is scheming, Cassius interjected, all singsongy.
I laughed but kept my eyes on Angel.
- Perfect. Here is the calculation I need: What are the odds I can get that girl to kiss me?
- Who, Marcherie? he asked.
I hated hearing her name in someone else’s mouth.
- Yes, Marcherie.
He and Cassius looked at each other and laughed so loudly it shook the table. I glared at them and balled my fists.
- What’s so funny? You think I’m not good enough for her?
- Easy, easy, Cassius said.
He was still laughing while trying to put a calming hand on my shoulder. I swatted his hand away. Angel finally caught his breath and said:
- We’re laughing because she asked us about you this morning.
I blinked.
- She did what?
- Yes. She asked if we thought you would ever be interested in her, Cassius said.
- What did you say?
- We said no, Angel said.
I gasped so hard I thought I’d swallowed my own tongue. I was shaking.
- YOU FUCKING STUPID EVIL—
They cut me off with more hysterical laughter.
- We are joking, O, Angel said.
- We told her that she was quite possibly the only thing you were interested in, Cassius added.
My heart had never beaten so fast.
- What did she say?
- She plans to approach you after her recital tonight. She wants you to see her perform so that she has, in her words, “the best chance of impressing you.”
I smiled the rest of the day, and at night, I sat front row at her recital.
Cassius was to my left, and Angel sat next to him.
Every time Marcherie looked at me, Cassius elbowed me as if he thought I’d miss it.
The truth was that I didn’t hardly allow myself to blink during that entire show.
I didn’t want to miss one single second of her presence.
Never before had I witnessed such extraordinary talent. Her performance left a mark on my heart, and not just because her song was blessed by Dolericym herself. It was more than magical—it was perfect.
And after… afterward was something of dreams.
The afterparty was underneath the stage. Cassius and Angel planted kisses on my cheeks, wishing me good luck before they left together.
I was lingering against the wall, waiting, when I saw Marcherie step out of her dressing room. Her makeup and her dress were both halfway off. In her hand was a bottle of dark liquor. I could hardly breathe while she walked toward me, graceful as a wolf. She stopped in front of me and smiled.
- Why aren’t you a Musices student? she asked me.
I stammered. That wasn’t what I expected.
She offered me her bottle. The glass was still warm from where her fingers had been curled around it, where her lips had been sitting on the rim.
- Because I am a Rhetoric student, I said.
- But your voice is so unique. I can tell by the way you talk.
- You think? I asked, laughing.
- I know.
- I do like music. But I’m terrible in a choir. My voice doesn’t blend well with others.
- I’m not surprised by that. You can’t help yourself.
Her tone confused me. I drank from the bottle.
- Meaning?
- Meaning, you stand out no matter what you do. No matter where you are. And whether you want to or not.
It started to sound like a compliment, at least to me.
- Is that a bad thing?
- Not at all. You’re a star, Odette Dufort.
I handed the bottle back to her. Our fingers touched, lingered.
- Come with me, she said.
She took my hand and pulled me away from the darkness. In a blur of bodies and liquor and the powdery scent of stage makeup, we ran like we were late to our marks.
I followed her up a spiral staircase, not entirely unlike the one that twisted up the observatory. This one was older with worn slopes in the center of every step where tap shoes had scraped away the stone.
- Where are you taking me?
- Where you belong! she sang.
And suddenly, we were center stage. She put the bottle down by her feet and wrapped her soft hands on my shoulders, turning me to face the audience.
- How easy it would be for you to get an entire crowd to chant your name, she whispered against my neck.
My entire body trembled. I turned my head, nearly nose to nose with her. Her eyes were a rich brown, almost red. She outstretched her arms to her imaginary audience.
- The applause is what I live for. How can you not chase that when it could so easily be yours?
- In all honesty, I do not crave applause, I said.
I could feel myself about to say something wrong, but I continued.
- Is it bad that I simply don’t care what the masses think of me? I choose whose opinions to take seriously, who actually matters to me. I can’t bring myself to care about any others. I often chase one great “yes,” and the rest is… noise.
She laughed, in a sort of purring manner—throaty and desirous.
- Whose “yes” are you chasing now, Odette Dufort?
- I believe I am chasing yours, Marcherie Andres.
She smiled, almost laughed, and bent down to pick up the bottle.
She took a big swig. I reached for it after she was done and found it empty.
Noticing, she cupped my chin. Our eyes met.
Closer, closer, closer, she came to me. Noses touching.
Lips touching. Mouths parting. Warm liquor flooded my mouth, tasting of honey and her.
I never want to drink anything else.
After that kiss, I decided I will not leave. I will join Lamour in these lessons.
And if I die, it will be worth it.