and prepared for the next day’s practical, I sat down at my desk and stared at an old calendar full of pictures of the Conservatory. And then I studied during whatever hours remained of the day.
“I plied Mrs. Oakbluff with favors and even went so far as to call down a thunderbolt to revive the silver light elixir for her daughter’s wedding, all for something that was essentially hopeless from the very beginning.” She smiled. “Sound familiar?”
He gazed at her, his eyes solemn and beautiful. “Somewhat.”
“It’s the same here. The prophecies will most likely come to pass, but I won’t concede anything until then. I won’t despair now because a shadow might fall tomorrow.” She touched his hair, also damp from the fog. “Or perhaps I’ve already despaired—and decided that while despair is fine as an occasional indulgence, it can’t be served three times a day.”
He took her hand and pressed her fingertips to his lips. “Is it as simple as that?”
“What? A big helping of stubbornness plus a gentle sprinkling of lunacy? Of course. If you need more of either, I’m sure we can find some in the laboratory.” She kissed him on his cheek. “Now get in that tub before the water freezes.”
She carried the basket of foodstuffs back to the laboratory. It contained a flask of soup, sandwiches, and a pudding. Solid English fare—and except the flask of soup, all stone cold. She reheated everything as best as she could, watching her flames carefully to make sure they didn’t scorch the pudding or lick the sandwiches.
The next second she was sobbing, prostrate over the worktable, grief inundating her like a storm-driven surge, each wave more pitiless than the one before.
How deranged she had been, to believe that she could make the difference. That she would single-handedly save him from certain doom. And every time they cheated death, every time they emerged unscathed from an impossible situation, her belief had grown stronger. Why should she have been given control of the divine spark, if it weren’t to defy all such ill-written fate?
What had Princess Ariadne foreseen? What terrible detail had Kashkari’s dream added to that inevitable future? Did they see her kneeling by his lifeless body, screaming with rage and futility? Did they mention that she would destroy everything in her path afterward, leaving nothing but fire and ruin?
A hand settled on her shoulder. “I have stubbornness and lunacy side by side on this shelf here. Which one was it that you could not find?”
At the sound of his voice, her sobbing only became more uncontrollable. “Do you have a jar of delusion too? I depleted all of mine.”
He lifted her from the worktable. “No, I am all out of extra delusion. But I do have a bit of sense left, if you want it.”
“What’s that?”
He wiped her tearstained face with a soft handkerchief. “You should not despair now because a shadow might fall tomorrow.”
More tears trickled down her face. “Fortune shield me. Where have I heard that old chestnut before?”
“A barmy mage told me before I went into my bath. Perhaps you have met her: beautiful girl, but scary—will electrocute you if you are not careful.”
Despite herself, she felt her lips curve in the beginning of a smile. “And what do you do to make sure she doesn’t electrocute you?”
“I distract her with bushels of rose petals. She loves that sort of sentimental rubbish.”
She snorted. Rose petals had been something of a running joke between them from the beginning of Michaelmas Half, except she had been the one ridiculing him for using them as a shorthand for romance.
“You want to see some of the other distractions I had prepared, so she would not smite me?”
“Let me guess: the moon and the stars?”
“Close enough.” He walked to a locked cabinet, opened it, and extracted a sphere the size of the snow globe Cooper kept in his room at Mrs. Dawlish’s. Dimming the light in the room, he said, “Astra castra.”
The sphere burst open. Countless tiny stars emerged and floated in the air, like an overabundance of pixie dust. Gradually, the tiny stars organized themselves into the familiar shape and brilliance of the Milky Way.
She held her breath: the miniature galaxy was mesmerizingly beautiful.
But all too soon, the stars vanished.
He gave her fireworks next, diminutive yet intricate blazes. After that, a small, glowing seed that turned into a sprout, a sapling, and then a large, wonderful tree, the rustle of its tender green leaves like music, the swaying of