Page 47 of The Breaker of Stars

Beneath my cloak, my triple blades were heavy in my weapon belt. The extra knives Cypherion insisted I slide into sheaths on my thighs and wrist chilled me through the leather.

“They’ll have them,” I muttered.

For a moment, my chest tugged. Swirls of murky blues and bursts of bright whites pressed against my mind. Fates whispered in my ears.

Fatecatcher, one roared.

But just as quickly, they were gone.

And we were left staring at gray stone and twelve large, arched windows. Candles flickered behind eleven, depicting a pivotal story of each Fate.

With a nod at those windows, Cypherion extended a hand to lead me up the steps and said, “Let’s go see what they hold, Stargirl.”

As I marched up those stairs, his boots echoing on stone behind mine, comfort wrapped itself around my bones and made each step easier. Cypherion wasn’t leaving me. Together, we would decipher what hid inside.

The domed center of the temple looked down at us as we entered. Stained glass in the rounded skylights melted the stars so they swam in the deep navy, a few propped open to view the constellations. A balcony lined the ceiling, telescopes poking out, exactly as our Angel liked to practice.

With each step inside, magic fluttered quicker beneath my skin.

Benches lined the center aisle up to the altar, a few Starsearchers kneeling between them. A handful of guards lined the walkway, but no one noticed us.

Alcoves brimmed with incense around the edge of the main hall. Curtains were pulled closed on every one, waiting for deeper readings to be conducted and candles flickered within. Twelve spaces in total. One for each Fate.

Like the windows, the one at the end remained dark.

And halfway down the left wall, a wooden door cut between two of them.

“This way,” I whispered.

Cypherion said nothing, but the tension rolling off his shoulders was palpable, the ticking of his jaw nearly audible. He was likely counting each of the knives strapped to his person, planning the quickest exit.

The skylights cast pockets of moonlight onto the tile as we made our way through the temple to that wooden door. Our breaths were loud, and my fingers jittered at my sides.

Silently, Cypherion slipped his hand into mine, steadying me.

As we reached the door, my heart sank. “A lock,” I whispered.

Of course the archives were unlocked to only the acolytes. What had I been expecting? Just because every door had appeared open to me before—when I came on Titus’s orders—did not mean they were still.

Cypherion draped his hand around my shoulder and pretended to admire the statues of ancient warriors standing on either side of the door.

“Sealed magically or with a key?” he mumbled.

I mimicked his nonchalance despite the combination of nerves and magic bubbling within me, slipping my arm around his waist. But I looked out of the corner of my eye to the metal lock. It appeared simple, a keyhole in the center.

“It’s basic,” I said.

“Good,” Cypherion whispered. “There’s only one guard on this side of the temple.” He tilted his head to the right. “Go ask him for assistance with the candles in one of these alcoves, and when you’re done, meet me behind that door.”

I looked up to him, my brows pulling together, but he kissed my temple softly and sent me on my way.

“Excuse me, sir?” I asked, keeping my hood pulled up but ensuring my tone was light. The guard turned to me curiously, dark-blond hair swaying around his shoulders. “I’d like to use one of the private alcoves, but I can’t seem to locate the matches.”

“Sorry about that, Miss,” he said, nodding. “I’ll go fetch some.”

I watched him leave, and fought every instinct to check on Cypherion. Instead, I drifted to the end of the benches lining the main aisle and stared up at the dome. At the heavens stretching beyond, whirling with star-kept secrets.

What is it you plan for us?

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