Page 50 of The Breaker of Stars

And that made my stomach churn.

I aligned the last blade and glanced over my shoulder. Still, she stood before that window. The roaring in my head mounted.

I told it to quiet, because it was clear whatever had been cracking within my Stargirl for months had firmly crumbled tonight. A severance of some pivotal piece of her spirit.

“Vale…” I said slowly, coming to stand beside her.

“Hm?” she hummed, eyes glued to the city.

But they weren’t still.

Her gaze roved over each sculpted building, stained glass, and spire, as if searching for what else she may have missed.

Slowly, I leaned my shoulder against the wall beside the window and crossed my arms, not obscuring the view but hoping to catch her eye. “What happened back there?”

“It was just acolytes,” she said, brushing me off with a slow tilt of her head. “Next time, we should hide among the shelves. We should have tonight. Then we could be done.”

Her voice was like something from a dream, higher than usual and floating around us. Not at all grounded or logical.

“Before the acolytes, Vale,” I said. “What happened to you?”

Finally, she met my eyes.

And a scarred spirit stared back through those olive-green irises, so dim and full of surrender.

“His name was on the door,” she whispered.

“I saw it.” I nodded for her to continue.

“And I did not know he had an office in the temple.” Her fingers gripped the edge of her nightgown, crumpling the silk. “I was his apprentice; I was the student he trusted most”—her voice cracked—“and saw the most promise in. And I did not know.”

“Vale…” I took in the shadows in her eyes and the frantic grasp of her hands to just hold on to something. Something solid, something real. “Why are you so loyal to him still?”

I didn’t know if either of us were ready to have the conversation, but I’d lead her there and hold her through it if she wanted to try.

“Because I have to be.”

“You don’t,” I whispered, shaking my head.

“I do.” Her hand flashed to her shoulder, where that tattoo gleamed in silver ink.

“Just because he saved you once doesn’t mean he’s incapable of putting chains around your wrists again, Stargirl.”

“No, he didn’t.” She shook her head, retreating as if the window was suddenly a cliff’s edge she teetered over. “Titus is g-good. Titus wants the best for me.”

Again, she clutched at her tattoo, pain twisting her face.

Anger ripped through me to see her like this, to witness everything she thought she knew being overturned, clinging to the beliefs planted in her mind. I swallowed the rage that burned up my throat and tried my hardest to focus on her trembling hands and sharp breaths. To not let my frustration out.

“Maybe, it’s time we talk about the possibility that he doesn’t want what he’s claimed, Vale. That he has other motives?—”

“He gave me everything,” she snapped, fists tightening. “I am only here because he pulled me out of Lumin sixteen years ago!”

“Only to stick you in another cage!” I said, much more aggressively than I intended. The jaws of my anger opened wider, finally letting loose all the thoughts I’d kept behind barbed teeth. “Titus has manipulated you for years, Vale! He’s used you—why? He’s had you scheming and lying for him, risking lives for his secrets, and what did he do when you needed him?”

Her jaw ticked, lips pressing tight together, and one hand still clawing at her shoulder. But we couldn’t keep dancing around this, not when the slightest push had toppled her resolve.

No matter how badly it hurt us both to shove her into this truth.

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