Chapter 29 Lament #2
“No, he’s not—wait.” Claudia approaches the bed and sits on the edge. “He told you he’s angry with me?” A million questions sit at the back of her throat. What else did he say? When? How? Does he miss me?
“Of course he is. You got him in trouble with the only person in the world he respects.”
“But surely the High Sage will forgive him, right? It doesn’t seem like it should be that big of a deal.”
Marcherie leans in like she’s sharing a secret. “Triche may seem like a calm old man, but he knows how to hold a grudge.”
“How do you know that?”
“Well, you know how Astrologia was debunked? Oh, of course you know, Star Girl. Anyway, there was a period of time where the Astrologia wing was used as an Astronomia wing instead. Students still studied the cosmos, though there was no magical enhancement to their studies without Sidarphion. Then, when Triche became High Sage, he condemned the whole wing and left it to rot. He expelled any current students who were in the Astronomia program, despite the fact that many professors in other disciplines offered to absorb the Astronomia class into theirs.”
No wonder he sent Claudia such a harsh rejection. “Why does Triche hate Astro-everything so much?”
“There are lots of rumors. Some think that when he was a student, he was in love with an Astrologia major who didn’t love him back.
Others think he saw a fate in his stars he didn’t like.
Though most say he’s just a stickler for magic and he’s merciless against those who don’t use it.
I can’t say I blame him for what he did.
” She looks Claudia up and down with genuine sympathy.
“No offense. But this is a magical institution. Why teach a subject that can’t be used beyond the abilities of a common mortal?
It’s pointless here. Triche knew what he was doing when he ended it. ”
She wonders if Odette—the other celestial witch—ever had any run-ins with him, if he ever found her in the observatory like that. “What did Odette think about the High Sage?”
Marcherie winces, but she shakes the emotion from her face. A flash of fear runs through Claudia when she imagines how Marcherie must feel—losing the person she loves.
Claudia is one month away from the exact same grief.
“She liked him,” Marcherie says, shrugging. “She said he had all the answers.”
“I suppose he does.” Claudia sighs. She notices how her posture has relaxed, how she’s leaned closer toward Marcherie as they’ve been talking.
She clears her throat and pulls back, steeling her spine.
“What’s going to happen when he dies? He’s got to be close.
If he’s not going to keep training Cassius, who else will have all the answers? ”
“Triche isn’t going to die, Claudia,” she says like it’s as obvious as the color of the sky. “He’s protected by the gods. He’s going to ascend.”
“Ascend as in… you mean he’s going to become a god?”
Marcherie nods. “He’s closer than anyone has ever been.”
Fear flutters in her chest. “Don’t you have to kill a witch to ascend?” That’s what it said in the tale of Dracoemagyl that Cassius gave her.
“Well, I don’t know for sure. No one really does.
The first gods killed witches to ascend, but no one has been elevated since them.
All we know about the process is what Triche has told us: When you’re ready, the gods will give you a series of trials.
Once they’re all done”—she flares her fingers and releases an angelic, richly operatic ahhhh—“you’re a god. ”
She knits her brows. “Has Triche started his trials?”
“That’s what Cassius says. But he’s still years away, maybe even decades, from ascension.
The trials aren’t things that can be completed in a night.
They’re long, grueling, painful tasks, each requiring years of unwavering dedication.
So long as Triche is working toward them, he won’t die.
That’s how he’s reached such an impressive age.
And Cassius is helping him because he’s going to take his place as High Sage one day, and then, in a dream world, Cassius gets to ascend, too. Eventually.”
Claudia’s head is spinning. She’d questioned Professor Lamour about Triche’s age before and he didn’t tell her any of this. Why?
“I can’t believe I didn’t know about this.”
“See? Maybe being friends with me won’t be so terrible. Maybe you’ll learn things.” She looks her up and down. “Like how to sing on pitch.”
She rolls her eyes. “Sure, and maybe I’ll teach you how to speak to people in a way that doesn’t make them hate you.”
Marcherie’s eyes light up. “All right, friend. It’s a deal.”
“Well, I wasn’t actually offering—”
It’s too late. Marcherie throws her arms around Claudia’s neck, squishing water out of Claudia’s curls. “Thank you, Claudia, for giving me a chance to make things right. You won’t regret it.”
At midnight, Lamour barges into the observatory for their lesson, his face red as Mars. “Are you a godsdamned fool, Claudia Jolicoeur?”
She stands from the parlor chair, hanging her head in shame. She knew this was coming, and she knows she deserves it. “Professor, I’m sorry.”
“You’re sorry?” He laughs like a madman, as though he can’t believe what he’s hearing.
“You brought another student up here, and not just any student, but Cassius MacLeod. The High Sage’s apprentice, for fuck’s sake.
And worse than anything, you got caught.
And you’re sorry? You think being sorry is enough?
He could be the one who killed Odette. He could’ve killed you. ”
“It wasn’t him,” she assures. “I wouldn’t have brought him up here if he was untrustworthy. Malevimus told me Cassius had nothing to do with her death. So, see, it wasn’t as reckless as it seems. I know you’re afraid because of what happened to your friends, but—”
“Do not speak of them,” he barks. “Do not use them as pawns in your argument. You are wrong. Nothing will change that.”
She keeps her head down, speaking to the floor. “I know. You’re right.”
“Why did you do it? What were you doing up here?”
She very nearly confesses everything, but some deep-rooted, indefinable instinct holds her tongue.
She can’t stop thinking about Odette’s last diary entry.
Why did Lamour have it? He knows far more than he’s letting on about what happened to Odette.
Maybe he didn’t kill her, but perhaps kill was the wrong word all along.
Malevimus said no one killed her, but someone certainly made her disappear.
Right now, all Lamour knows is that she and Cassius came up here. He doesn’t know she cast anything on him. He doesn’t know that Cassius witnessed celestial magic.
He doesn’t need to know. That would make it all worse.
But what can she tell him that explains everything? How can she navigate this without potentially putting herself in danger?
“It was the opera. The influence from Dolericym was much more powerful than I ever imagined. It was my first time, you know. I was ill-prepared. It took us both to a strange place, like when you and your friends killed that deer called Banquo, remember?”
Professor Lamour’s brows pinch, tugging at the harsh lines on his forehead. “What does that mean?”
“We… we wanted to…” Fuck, she needs a good lie. And for it to be believed, it needs to be worse than the truth. She takes a deep breath and looks down, for she can’t bear to look into his eyes when she says, “We wanted to make love under the stars.”
He’s quiet for a long time. Claudia eventually glances up, and Lamour looks like he’s going to be sick.
“You”—he swallows a gag—“fucked in my observatory?”
Claudia sucks in a sharp breath. “It was a mistake. I know that.”
Gobsmacked, disgusted, and pissed, he growls, “It was far worse than a mistake. It was a betrayal.” He storms across the room and rips open the door. “I cannot teach you anymore.”
Her eyes go wide. “You have to.”
“I can’t. You are more dangerous to me as an ally than as an enemy. It’s safer for me if I have no trust in you at all.”
“Professor, please. I’ll never do it again. I need you now more than ever.”
He shakes his head and holds out his palm. “Please give me your key.”
“What will it take? What will you have me do? I’ll do anything to earn back your trust. Name it.” She can’t stop the tears from spilling over. “Just please don’t abandon me now.”
“I’m not abandoning you, Claudia. I simply can’t justify risking my life for someone who isn’t careful. You cannot undo what you have shown me to be true of your character.” He raises his brows, glancing at his open palm. “Now give me your key and go.”
“I can’t.” Her voice is shrill and shaky. “I really can’t. We have to keep going. Something is deeply wrong here, and if I can’t command celestial magic, everything is going to get worse. If you stop helping me, I could die.”
If she can’t help Dorian, he won’t help her. He won’t save Cassius. She’ll lose everything.
“If I keep helping you, I could die. I won’t do it. There’s a reason I’ve survived when no others have. I’m careful. I’m cautious. I cover my tracks, and when something becomes too dangerous to sustain, I leave. That’s what I must do now.”
A beat of silence passes.
“Please,” Claudia says weakly, tears streaming down her red, raw cheeks. “I’m not ready. I don’t know enough. I can’t—” A sob shatters her voice.
“You know plenty of spells that will keep you safe. Anything else would be giving you more power than you can handle.”
Claudia winces. He sounds just like Triche. This is so close to what the High Sage said to Cassius—master responsibility before power.
“I can handle it. I promise.” She clasps her hands in prayer at her chest. “I made one mistake. I admit it. I’m sorry. I’ll never do it again.” Snot streams out of her nose. She’s sobbing so hard she might vomit. “I’ll do anything.”
He closes his eyes, his expression pained. “I’m sorry. I am. I wish things were different. I wish I could teach you without risk, but I can’t live with that much fear. I can’t take the nightmares.”
A sharp, stuttering gasp slips through her teeth. “You’re having nightmares, too?”
He pauses. Whatever he was about to say, he swallows it down. Blinking tightly, he says, “The key, Claudia. I won’t ask again.”
Her hands tremble as she takes it from her pocket and drops it into his palm. He immediately curls his fist around it and snatches it away.
Claudia feels like he’s just plucked a bone from her rib cage. She’s seconds away from collapsing where she stands.
“Please. Please don’t do this.”
He pauses, back turned to her. He almost turns around, but he doesn’t. Instead, his shoulders drop. He walks to the door, opens it, and gestures for her to leave.
Part of her wants to plant herself in the ground and take root, refusing to leave for anything other than a blade cutting her down.
But she’s hurt Lamour enough, and judging by Odette’s last diary entry, Lamour could hurt her, too.
It’s not safe for her here. She sucks up her tears and bites her cheek to keep from whimpering out loud while she walks out the door.
When she reaches the first step of the spiral staircase, her professor calls after her.
“For what it’s worth, Claudia, you are an exceptional talent, both in academia and in magic. I hate that we are ending this way, for I know you would have gone further than any celestial witch before you.”
Her gaze snaps up. Rage and sorrow burn in her belly. “If you mean that, don’t end it.”
“I’m not ending it.” He gives her a somber look. The last thing he says before turning his back to her is “You did.”