Page 92 of The City of Stardust

“Gabe, don’t start,” the other one says wearily.

“Shut up, Ambrose,” Gabriel says sharply, before returning to Aleksander. “You had the sword right in your hands, and what did you do?”

“Gabriel, please—”

“Absolutely fuck all, is what—”

“Enough!” Violet says, and they both fall silent.

Gabriel glares at Aleksander, but he moves to stand behind Violet, as though he’s a particularly irate bodyguard. It strikes Aleksander how similar they look, chins tipped upwards, unafraid, or at least doing their best at pretending to be so. His heart twinges again.

“We have to go after Penelope,” Violet continues. “Otherwise she’ll come back—for all of us.”

Gabriel looks at her as though she’s grown a second head. “You are going absolutely nowhere.”

“We can still go to the safe house,” Ambrose says quickly. “I kept it stocked, just in case you changed your mind.”

“Perfect,” Gabriel says, just as Violet says, “Not a chance in hell.”

Gabriel scowls. “So help me, Violet, I will throw you over my shoulder and carry you the whole way if I have to.”

Violet tries to stand up, winces, and sits back down. “I’d like to see you try. Ambrose?”

“I’m sorry, Vi, but I’m with Gabriel on this one.”

“She won’t stop,” Aleksander says suddenly.

All three swivel towards him. Inexplicably, his hands start to sweat.

“She’s weak. So maybe that’s why the sword worked. But Penelope always gets what she wants,” he continues. “Always.” He hesitates,afraid of voicing the question that’s tormented him from the second he saw Penelope in the hallway. “Why does she want you?”

“As if you don’t know,” Gabriel says derisively.

But Violet is watching him carefully, a curious expression on her face. It’s not quite trust. He knows he’ll never get that back, not after everything he’s done. The one precious gift he hadn’t even realised he had, until he’d thrown it away.

Violet stands up, and this time, even though her face screws up with pain, she doesn’t sit back down.

“I want a word with Aleksander. Alone,” she adds, seeing her uncles’ expressions. “Anyway, I have to change.”

Her shirt is spattered with Penelope’s blood, and so is his, he realises. Not red, or gold as the other astral’s had been, but black. Like something corrosive.

“I’m going to change, and speak to Aleksander. Then I’m going to take some painkillers and we’ll go after Penelope,” she says firmly.

“That’s not much of a plan,” Ambrose says.

“It’s the one we’ve got,” she says.

They all exchange a wordless look—exasperation and love and something else Aleksander doesn’t recognise—then Ambrose sighs, easing back in his chair. And just like that, Violet wins the argument.

“Be careful,” he says.

As soon as they’re out of earshot of the kitchen, Violet pauses to lean against the wall, her jaw set against the pain. Her hair is tangled across her face, and Aleksander has the absurd urge to reach over and smooth it back for her. Instead, he tucks his hands behind his back.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks.

She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes, then opens them again. “I don’t have a choice. You know what Penelope is like. Youknowwhat she’ll do to us.”

It’s a relief, ever so slight, that she still calls Penelope the name by which he’s always known her, and not by the name he considered to belong to their mythical pantheon.Astriade.That creature is still barely real to him.

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