Page 21 of The City of Stardust

Penelope takes a step forward. “Marianne is close, then.”

She is as close as the stars to the earth, the wind to the ocean depths. She is closer than you, O star-daughter.Tamriel laughs, a cavernous sound that scrapes the inside of the room.

Penelope’s fists clench, and she takes another step forward. “Don’t play riddles with me. I will have Marianne’s whereabouts, one way or another.”

O star-daughter, you presume too much of us.

Quick as lightning, the creature lashes out at her ankles. But Penelope is already back against the far wall, one hand on the ladder.

You have already exchanged for your truth, and we owe you no more than that,the creature says, amused.You think we do not see you as you are, Astriade, daughter of Nemetor? We may wear different skins, but O, we are the same. We carry the same hunger, the same malice within our hearts. To ignore the call is to ignore the truth of ourselves.

“Then you cannot answer my question. How disappointing.”

Penelope starts to climb the ladder. But halfway to the top, Tamriel cries out in harsh, screeching laughter.

There will be others who go down this dark road to visit us, to sate our hunger and bring us offerings of the flesh. And they will ask of you. And we will answer.

Penelope pauses on the ladder. “The daughter?”

We have already told you before, she cannot seek what she does not know.

Penelope nods to herself. Then she smiles.

“It is distasteful sometimes to be reminded that we are kin, but you are right, dearest cousin. So when you fell, I opened my arms to you: I offered you a lifetime of protection in exchange for those questions. Have I not brought flesh to you, at great risk to myself? Have I not found you shelter?” She gestures to the dank basement around her. “And do not try to convince me you would prefer the alternative,cousin. I know as well as you where that road lies.”

Tamriel hisses between his teeth, and in that hint of voice is the man Penelope might recall, if she cares to delve far enough into her memory. He jangles his chains softly, the strongest act of defiance he can muster for all his predatory speed. He would be stronger with more flesh, and there was a time when Penelope had weighed up what it would take to restore him to his former might, when such a thing still held possibility. Perhaps the astral would have proven a less reluctant ally.

Perhaps the monster would have outgrown his chains.

Star-daughter, we… cannot deny your generosity. We are grateful, cousin, kin, that you remember us as your own.

“But if the skies are so immutable, as you claim, then your answers are of no use to me. Perhaps it is time we part ways, Tamriel.” Sheshrugs, and if it weren’t for the malice in her eyes, her smile would look genuinely apologetic.

You would not dare.

“You have killed your keeper,” she says, “and there’s no one to take his place. There will be no more feeding, no more visits. You may rattle your chains until the stars themselves are dead—or you may simply succumb to your hunger. But rest assured, you will never be given the opportunity to breathe a word of me to another.” Her lips curl, savouring the moment. “Goodbye, Tamriel.”

With that, Penelope leaves, slamming the trapdoor behind her.

CHAPTER

Eleven

AFTER WHAT FEELSlike the world’s longest shift—two sets of screaming toddlers at an impromptu birthday party, whimsical sugar art that felt decidedly less so when she was cleaning it up, Matt off sick with some hideous cold—Violet cycles into the Everly driveway to see every light blazing against the darkness. Which can only mean one thing.

But before she can go hunting for Gabriel, Ambrose greets her in the doorway, his tired smile not quite meeting his eyes. He glances down the hall.

“Gabe’s home,” he says.

“I see that.”

“He won’t be here for long”—of course, Violet thinks—“but we’ve been invited to a soirée of sorts. Tonight.” He pauses. “All of us.”

Violet takes a couple of seconds to process this. “You want me to go to a party.”

Ambrose, who wouldn’t let her go to school, who barely even tolerates her working at the café, wants her to go to aparty. She can believe in other worlds and magical keys, and even in Aleksander’s miraculous weekly appearances, but this somehow feels like a stretch too far.

“It’s from Gabriel’s… how do I say this? Colleagues.”

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