Page 65 of The Breaker of Stars

Then, I scanned my warrior. His hair was half pulled back, but the ends looked gnarled, like fingers had clawed through them. Dark circles framed his eyes after waking from whatever drug they’d used on him, and his clothes—the same leathers he’d been in when we went to the temple—were disheveled, not a weapon in sight.

The frantic search of his eyes around my bedchamber froze me to my spot before the mirror. As he peeled back the layers of the life I once led here, stripped down to its bare minimum, an uncomfortable vulnerability settled over me. He was seeing a person I used to be.

Cypherion studied the room for a long, quiet moment, while my heart thundered, and pressure built behind my eyes.

Then, his gaze landed on me. On the only dress that had been in my wardrobe. A silver fabric that shimmered like it was woven with starlight, crystals lining the fitted bodice. I’d had to lace it as best I could on my own. Dainty straps wrapped around my shoulders, and the skirt flowed to the floor, full but deceptively so, with high slits slicing up to my hip.

Cypherion swallowed as his eyes tracked over every inch of my body. “You look…”

“It’s the dress Titus left for me.”

“Then it’s the worst dress I’ve ever seen.” But with the way his eyes dragged over it, burning with desire and heady need, it was clear that was far from the truth.

And despite the nerves crashing through my chest and the tears stinging my eyes, my lips twitched up slightly and a watery laugh bubbled out of me.

At the sound, Cypherion swept across the room, his arms wrapping around me. “Stargirl,” he breathed, bending to kiss me.

I wrapped my hands around him, digging my fingers into the curls at the back of his neck. Grounding myself with him.

He pulled back quickly.

“Are you okay?” he asked, cupping my cheek and letting his gaze drop down my body. “Have they done anything to you? Harlen said you spoke…”

I could see in his gaze that he didn’t trust Harlen. And I didn’t blame him.

“I think he’s on our side here,” I said. “He was lied to as I was. And I’m fine.” I didn’t add that while I was okay physically, being back here was like tugging a vital piece of myself away. A piece that had learned to hope and dream and choose.

I thought he knew regardless.

“We’re going to get out of here,” Cypherion promised. “We just have to go to this dinner first.”

“I don’t think you should come,” I said. “Harlen said he’ll help get you out.”

Cypherion argued, “I’m not leaving you. I promised I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Stargirl”—he sighed—“don’t lie to me.”

I didn’t respond.

“We’ll go to this dinner. Then, we’ll get out of here.” His words came out rough and desperate, a bit turned up at the ends, like we both knew there was a very good chance he was wrong. “We’ll play nice, be diplomatic. But I can promise you the Revered won’t allow us to stay here a moment longer than is necessary to keep peaceful standings with your clan. When my letters stop arriving, Mystiques will be beating down the door to this manor.”

He sounded sure about that last part, but with each word, my heart only cracked further. Because he may be a Mystique, a member of Ophelia’s council, but when it came down to it, I was a Starsearcher.

Under Titus’s jurisdiction.

I swallowed that truth.

“It’s going to be okay,” I said.

He is going to be okay.

A tear snuck out the corner of my eye. Cypherion caught it, tilting my chin up, his other hand snaking around my waist.

“Tell me what I can do, Vale.” He gripped me tighter to him. “Please, whatever it is. Tell me what you need.”

“You,” I said, hollowly. Clinging to him, I dragged my lips over his jaw. “Remind me what it is to feel beyond these towering walls.”

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