Page 14 of The Breaker of Stars

“Come on, Stargirl,” I said, placing a hand at her back to guide her down the street. Her cheeks flushed at the name, and I froze.

I’d been thinking of her that way for a bit now, like a woman who walked among the stars—who shone brighter than them—somehow falling into my life. But I hadn’t meant for it to slip out.

I’d say it every chance I got if it caused that rosy blush, though.

I inclined my head back toward the palace. “Tell me more about them on the walk home.”

And though the concept of the Fates was still foreign to me, it was feeling more like she might be mine.

“I remember everything.” My fucking words were too pining.

I cleared my throat, opening my mouth to say we had to go, but Vale spoke over me. “I remember everything, too, Cypherion.”

Then, she flipped up her hood and left, the velvet cloak I’d given her swaying around her frame. And for the sake of my fucking spirit, I wouldn’t admit how much I liked to see her wear it.

It wasn’t hard to locate the rings given that they weren’t a secret. Organized fights weren’t illegal so long as all participants consented—or no one knew they hadn’t. Carthern had said to look for a dark-blue flag marking the entrance and take the back stairs to the underground haven.

As we entered, my pulse raced with the familiar jeers of the crowd. With the roars of bets being called, won, and lost. It was rowdy and obnoxious and would have been entirely comfortable for me to sink into and lose myself had I not had Vale at my side.

We cut through the main bar, and no fewer than seven warriors appraised her. I fought the urge to punch their teeth out for it. Because I was her guard. That was why.

“Did you bring a weapon?” I muttered.

Quietly, Vale flashed me the triple-bladed dagger sheathed at her thigh, a Starsearcher signature throwing knife.

“Good girl.” I hated that I cared.

This fighting space was smaller than the one I frequented in Damenal, but it was just as crowded. Tables and alcoves lined the circumference, booths were veiled behind sheer curtains, and a window was tucked to one side where Starsearchers dropped their bets.

The center ring was a dust floor lined by thick red ropes, sprinkles of crimson staining it. As I watched those spots fade into dirt, and a warrior was dragged from the arena, my blood heated.

I shook off the urge for the time being, focusing instead on the woman I was responsible for.

Vale was quiet when we entered, her eyes darting around the space from beneath her hood. Cataloging everything, I was certain, but she also seemed to be searching for something. As we made our way toward the betting window, she inhaled sharply, turning and heading down a path between a few tightly-packed tables.

I followed, not questioning her. There was pain I didn’t understand buried within her at being here, and this was not the place to discuss it.

Not that she would even tell me. The memory of her secrets soured in the back of my throat, blurring the niceties we’d exchanged today.

“He’s unstoppable,” a man bragged, and I instantly knew who they were speaking of. The only opponent I wanted to fight. “He’s taken down every contender the past six nights.”

“I don’t believe it,” another argued.

“It’s true!” The first one dropped his voice. “Ledger came straight from the war. Saw some things that changed him. Now…sorry to any poor guy who stands against him.”

He couldn’t be that strong…could he? For once, a hint of doubt tainted my mind.

“Come on,” I said stiffly to Vale, tilting my head toward the betting window and leaving those men behind.

Approaching the teller, I spoke in a low voice. “I’d like to put my name in for the next round against your current victor. Ledger.”

The man appraised me. “Next fight with Ledger starts after these two are done.” He nodded to the ring behind me, two scraggly warriors currently—unskillfully—trying to outlast each other. It seemed the drink swaying their steps was a bigger threat than the fight.

“Put my name in for it,” I commanded.

Smirking as if he didn’t believe in me, the teller ducked beneath the counter and returned with a piece of parchment. The inkwell he passed me was filled with a silver liquid. It radiated with magic, but it wasn’t Mystique ink.

It likely came from the mountains, like ours did. Mined and imbued in some way. And if it was to sign a betting slip, I would put money on it being binding when one signed their name.

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