Chapter 34 Starlake
STARLAKE
The Gods were all once scholars. Human, messy, soft.
Through extensive study and bloody rituals, they found the edge of all knowledge and wanted to fall further, to blink at the unknown below and see what blinked back.
And fall, they did, through time and aether and death and life, until they emerged immortal.
An excerpt from Divinity: An Occult History
Claudia hides herself for days, waiting on her battle wounds to heal enough so that she can move without wincing.
She manages about fifty-two hours without sleep before she can’t withstand it anymore, but she’s made herself too exhausted for fear to overtake her.
This method is her best bet to avoid the Realm of Nightmares and stay as far away from Sidarphion as she can.
If she trusted herself more, she would ask Cassius for more essence of dreams, but every time she thinks of him, her imagination seizes her mind.
She sees visions of herself choking him, stabbing him, pushing him from a great height.
She has lost all faith in her ability to be good, even when her love’s life depends on it.
Maybe she was never good in the first place.
Maybe it’s time to admit it.
She spends the next week isolating herself from everyone—even Alistair. Cassius has kept his distance after their fallout in detention, and Marcherie had only just become a friend anyway, but Alistair has been trying to break down the impenetrable walls Claudia has built around herself.
It hasn’t worked—she won’t let it. Not when he came knocking with a new treat for Bishop.
Not when he brought her flowers from the greenhouse.
Not when he slid a note under her locked door that read: Dearest Claud, I miss you.
If you’re stressed, tell me. If you’re mad, let’s fight.
If you’re sad, I’ll be there for you. Just let me in. —Alis
It breaks her heart to push him away, but she can’t face him, or anyone at all right now.
Not when she’s going to either kill Cassius or die trying to save him.
She’s trying to spare them all from the inevitable, imminent, unavoidable grief.
Slowly, almost passively, she’s coming to terms with what she’s known deep down since she discovered the truth about her bargain: She is the one who is dying.
She is the one who has merely days left alive.
Unless she kills—
She shakes her head. No. No. Every time that ugly thought rears its head, she shoves it down.
She will not kill him. She will not.
But she could—
NO. Don’t think about it.
What is wrong with her? Why is she wondering what would be the easiest method? Poison, probably. No blood, no weapon. And then she could—
FUCK. STOP.
It’s her. Not him. That’s it. That’s the decision. All she has to do is wait. She’ll keep herself locked away until the bargain takes her, and then it will all be over.
How will Marcherie, Cassius, and Alistair cope with losing someone the exact same way they lost Odette? She imagines their faces when someone finds her body and breaks the news to them.
It happened again, they’ll say, and the three of them will feel the world slip out from under their feet once more.
They are nowhere near at peace with what happened to Odette, and when Claudia dies, their grief will double over itself, and still they will have no answers as to why people they love keep dying in this room, in this bed.
And Lamour—he’ll be sick with grief. This could be the thing that breaks his heart and kills the little spark of joy he’s only just got back.
It’s happening again. All over again. Claudia can’t stop it.
But she’s trying. Gods know she’s trying. Searching. Reading. Praying.
Anything.
Anything.
In response to Alistair’s note, Claudia writes:
Dearest Alis,
You want the truth, and I can’t give it to you.
I can’t tell you that Sidarphion is not dead, or that I sold my soul in a devil’s bargain with him to come here. I can’t tell you that I’m fated to kill Cassius or die myself, and that there is no way out, nor solution. One of us is going to die, and it’s all my fault.
I can’t tell you any of this, because you’d either think me mad, think me murderous, or perhaps the most dangerous of all—you would believe me, and you’d get yourself in irrevocable trouble trying to help.
I know you too well, Alis. I fear you would give away a piece of your soul to save mine. I won’t let you.
So, see, I can’t tell you any of this. No matter how many times you come to my door or slip notes underneath it, I have nothing I can give you.
Don’t worry. I’ll be gone soon enough, and then you can grieve properly.
Forever your mouthy, flower-loving, treat-obsessed, foolish, foolish girl,
Claud
While the ink is still wet, she dips the corner of the letter into a candle’s flame and watches the paper turn to ash.
The following afternoon, when she walks into the Treaty, she has every intention of grabbing a fistful of whatever her hand finds first and trudging back to her room, but Cassius catches her arm at the tea table.
His hand is so warm against her skin, and there are sparks beneath his touch.
It’s the first good thing she’s felt in so long.
Her eyes are almost too heavy for her to look up at him, but she forces herself to meet his cold blue eyes, wide with concern. She could cry just looking at him.
“Star Girl, are you all right?”
Hearing his nickname for her makes her cheeks flush. Suddenly, she can’t hear the hum of chatter throughout the room—she can only hear his breathing. Without speaking, she nods.
“Use your words,” he says, and it sends both a thrill of want and a heartbreaking jolt of grief through her body. It’s a reminder of everything they once were and everything they’ll never be.
Her eyes dart around the room in search of the High Sage. “You’re not supposed to be speaking to me. What will Triche think?”
“I don’t care about Triche right now. I care about what’s going on with you.”
She swallows hard. “I’m all right.”
She can tell by the set of his jaw and the red-ringed worry in his eyes that he doesn’t believe her.
“Come sit with us, then,” he says, gesturing to a round table in the corner where Marcherie and Alistair look away quickly to pretend they aren’t staring.
Next to Alistair is Angel. They’re whispering to each other.
Claudia’s heart warms. At least there will be someone there to pick up the pieces of Alistair’s heart when she breaks it.
“No. If Triche sees us together, he’ll—”
“Claudia, please. Forget about Triche for one second.”
“I can’t,” she says. “If he sees us, you’ll lose your apprenticeship, I’ll probably be expelled, and I’ll lose my magic. Just leave it alone.”
Cassius doesn’t let go of her, and she doesn’t pull away. She told herself to stay away at all costs, but now, next to him, she can’t bring herself to leave.
“What if there was somewhere we could go where he wouldn’t see us?”
Morning light streams in from the window and haloes his frame. He looks like an angel. “What?”
“I—well, we have a plan.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll tell you if you come sit.”
“But—”
“Triche is in his office. I promise he won’t see.” He leans in close. “And Alistair needs you. He’s making himself sick with worry.”
She pushes up on her tiptoes and looks across the crowded room, meeting Alistair’s gaze for a second before looking away.
He looks so tired. Angel rubs his back. Claudia feels like a monster for putting so much distance between them, but it’s for the best. Better to have him detach from her now, on his own accord, than to have grief replace their friendship in equal weight.
She’s protecting him. All of them. This is how it has to be.
“Tell him I’m fine.”
“Tell him yourself,” he says, lightly tugging at her arm.
A line is forming by the tea table. They need to get out of the way, and Claudia isn’t ready to give up the feeling of his touch. On instinct, she slides her arm through his grip and pauses when her hand touches his. His fingers twitch.
“All right,” she says. “Just for a second.”
Cassius leads her to the table where she takes a seat next to him, across from Alistair. The five of them sit in an unbearably tense silence for a whole minute. Claudia nibbles on a cucumber sandwich she grabbed from the tea table. It tastes like nothing.
Eventually, Angel clears his throat. “How are you?” he asks awkwardly. It’s obvious he has so much more to say, but it seems as though he’s forcing himself to tread lightly.
“I’m all right.”
Cassius, Alistair, and Marcherie look at one another. Angel looks at Claudia, both of them too new to understand the conversation happening between the others’ eyes.
“Seriously,” Marcherie says. “We’re concerned.”
“I’m fine,” she says sternly. “I’m just busy.”
“What’s made you infinitely busier than you were before detention?” Alistair snaps. “That’s when everything changed.”
“Bones,” Cassius warns.
“Don’t.” Eyes fixed on Claudia, he bites out, “You can’t just leave me without a word or warning.
You don’t get to tear yourself out of my heart when you were the one who forced your way inside.
It’s not fair, and it’s not you. Something is wrong, and I’m angry at you for facing it without me.
I let you in, Claud. You’re supposed to do the same thing for me. ”
“Alistair.” Marcherie drops her fist on the table. “Stop.”
There’s nothing Claudia can say—she can’t tell him the truth, and she’s not capable of lying to his face.
“I’m sorry,” she murmurs eventually.
Tears well in Alistair’s dark, pleading eyes. “I’m just so confused.”
She bites the inside of her cheek and looks down. No amount of deep breaths could ease the horrible feeling settling into her stomach right now, but she takes them anyway.