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CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE Clara hadn’t moved in over an hour. She sat by the window, knees pulled tight to her chest, her chin balanced against them. Outside, the sky stretched wide and endless, dark velvet pricked with stars she had always loved to trace. Capricornus lingered low, steady and solemn. Aquarius shimmered faintly, a scatter of glass beads across black silk. Pisces curved near the frame of her window, fragile, as if holding on by its fingertips. And above the rooftops, the waning crescent moon hung pale and hesitant, light thinning, like it could vanish at any moment. Clara didn’t notice the first tear until it slid cool down her cheek. Then another. Soon her jaw was damp, her chest aching with something heavy and wordless. She pressed her forehead to the cold glass. Her breat
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