Page 61 of The City of Stardust

The reverie vanishes; Violet nods. “I know. The keys.”

But he shakes his head. “The keys are a crude tool, wielded by the uncurious or unskilled. They can only take you to where you’ve already been.”

“A key is still better than nothing,” she reminds him.

“And be even more beholden to the scholars than I already am? I won’t be part of that,” he says.

“Why not?” she asks.

It’s not as though his reputation imbues him with some misplaced purity.

“Do you know how one makes a scholar?” he asks.

“Talent,” she says.

“Talent is innate; the scholars are a construct. And you’re not a scholar, yet you have a lot of talent. Did you know that?”

Violet looks away to hide her irritation. “I do, in fact.”

Not that she’s been able to do anything with it. She’s no closer to possessing a key than she was in the café last year, and every clue ofMarianne’s whereabouts has pointed away from Fidelis. Even if she did manage to get her hands on reveurite, it’s just metal to her. Malleable metal—but nothing else. Maybe if she was a scholar, it would be different. Maybe her talent would mean something.

“You should ask yourself who the scholars place power in when they choose to go down that path. What they sacrifice in return. They might call themselves colleagues, and pretend they share the same goals, but they’re all dragons at heart, guarding their hoards of knowledge. And they’ll never fulfil their true potential because of it.” He shrugs. “Revolutions aren’t built on the backs of an individual.”

Not dragons, Violet thinks.Wolves.

“Speaking of—I might not be a scholar, but I’ve heard a great deal about Aleksander,” he continues. “Not all of it pleasant. Are you sure you know what kind of man he is?”

Violet almost laughs at his concern. “He’s my friend. Do you think I would have brought him here if I didn’t trust him? Anyway, he’s not a scholar. He’s not like them.”

If it wasn’t for Aleksander, she wouldn’t be standing here now.

“If you’re sure,” he says, but he still sounds uncertain—a rare tone for Caspian.

“I’m sure.”

But even as she says it, she thinks back to those odd moments between them. The way he’d snapped at her in Vienna, all those probing questions—

“I have a confession,” Caspian says suddenly. “But I’m not sure you’ll like it.”

Ah,finally, the reason Caspian asked her to walk with him. Possibly the reason why he’d invited her to this gathering in the first place. She’ll give him this much: he knows exactly how to persuade people to bend around him.

“About two years ago, your mother asked to meet with my grandmother. She was looking for a way through worlds that didn’t require a key: a doorway. And of course, we Vernes were the best people to ask. Yours truly being a particular expert, if I say so myself.”

Doorways. Elandriel. Violet’s heart clenches.

“Marianne had been running for a long time. And she was ready to stop. I don’t know what she was running from.” He looks at her. “But you do.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” she demands.

Caspian’s tone remains light, but there’s a new steel underneath it. “I must admit, I didn’t think much of it when your name started to pop up,” he says. “Violet Everly, daughter of Marianne Everly, asking questions here and there. It happens. People drop in and out of our world all the time, often not by their own hand. But you were extraordinarily persistent, even though you held nothing of value. No secret information, no exceptional object to barter with.”

Violet guesses where this is going. “And you got curious.”

“Outsiders who want something that badly are usually dead or one of us within a year. And you’re not a scholar.” He levels his gaze at her. “I am giving you a gift now. Understand?”

Slightly chastened, Violet nods.

“I don’t think you’re going to find your mother.” He pauses. “She asked my grandmother to destroy her research. She said she didn’t want to be followed.”

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