Page 57 of The City of Stardust

Violet looks out the window to hide her displeasure at hearing Penelope’s name; it’s always like being doused in icy water, no matter how many times the topic comes up. She hasn’t seen her since that day in the coffee shop, and sometimes even that feels like a hazy dream. Only one woman, and yet she’s shaped Violet’sentire life. It would be nice to have a moment that she hasn’t touched, just once.

She’s still staring out of the window when she realises Aleksander has asked her a question. “Sorry?” she says.

“Did you get hold of the map in the end?” he asks.

It takes her a second to process what he’s asked her. And then it hits her: he doesn’t know about Johannes. It had been one thing to tell Aleksander about the conversation in the museum, when that’s all it was—a talk, nothing more. But she’s not sure she can even begin to explain Johannes’ awful death, never mind the horrors of Tamriel’s basement and the vision he’d showed her. Her stomach churns with unease.

“It’s a long story,” she says.

Aleksander leans in closer to her, his hands grazing hers. “I have time.”

Violet bites her lip, just before she relents. “I’m looking for the Hand of Illios. Or ‘a’ Hand, possibly. I’m not sure.”

Aleksander blinks. “Excuse me?”

She lowers her voice. “Illios. Something about keys and doorways and—well, I don’t know what it means, but my mother did. It’s supposed to be here, in Prague.”

She waits for Aleksander to explain, to unlock the answers for her. But he only stares at her.

“I didn’t know you were aware of the astrals,” he says quietly.

“I’ve learnt a lot in the last year, Aleksander.” She tries to say it playfully, but even to her, it sounds like a jibe.

He frowns. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” she says.

Violet waits for him to say more, but then the food arrives and all conversation ceases. Afterwards, they linger at the table. Violet is full and content for what feels like the first time in ages. Aleksander, though, is deep in thought, his brow furrowed.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

When he turns to her, his frown has disappeared. “Of course. Come on, let’s go exploring.”

They meander down the mosaic pavement, along the river. Out of the corner of her eye, she glances at Aleksander. He seems completely at ease now, with no signs of his earlier agitation. And yet she can’t shake the feeling that there’s something off.

As they walk, she keeps an eye out for the church in Tamriel’s vision. But there are churcheseverywhere. Her heart sinks. There’s already so little time left.

Then she stops.

“What is it?” Aleksander asks.

She’s been so focused on the hunt for her mother and the key that she’d totally forgotten about Caspian’s invitation. And yet here she is, in Prague, just in time for it. The scholars and their parties, she thinks, smiling despite herself. But who better to ask than Caspian Verne, with all his contacts and goodwill?

She thinks of that long-ago feeling when she’d first run into Aleksander, of fate stretching out a hand. If she hadn’t taken the opportunity then, would she have seen as much of the world? Would she be here now, as close to victory as she’s ever come?

Maybe this is that hand again, reaching out. Besides, it’s been so long since she’s had a little fun.

“Hey, what are your plans in the next week?” she asks.

He blinks, startled. “Not much. Why?”

“Can I take you somewhere?”

CHAPTER

Thirty

TWO DAYS LATER, Violet meets Aleksander in an alleyway just as dusk settles over the city. They cross the Charles Bridge, past the magician-saints and the sketch artists packing up for the evening. But instead of heading up the hill towards the castle, Violet veers left, along the river, then down a series of increasingly narrow alleyways. Shadows chase at their heels.

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