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Fingers twitching, I leaned across the table to throw open the singular small round window in the room and inhaled the scent of Valyn’s clear skies and flowers. Afternoon sunlight streamed through the dust in the rafters, and I chewed my lip as I peeked out over the wooden shutters and tiled roofs of the city.

My city.

No.

No longer my city. Had it ever been?

I’d never truly explored the buildings draped across the hilly Starsearcher land, nor the woven pathways and what lingered in the shadows. I’d only visited a few establishments, and those were on a regimented schedule.

I didn’t know Valyn the way others knew their homes. Not the way Cypherion knew Damenal. Memories of wandering hidden alleys and shops with him rang through my mind, his explanations on each one thorough.

Cities were not just fixtures and buildings and shops, as I’d thought. They held secrets buried within their corners, adventures beneath the cobblestones.

What tavern was the best for dancing?

What market had the freshest produce?

What shows or gambling halls or fighting dens could one only venture into with a known password?

I knew none of those answers about Valyn, had only viewed the city as it pertained to my magic. Where to study, where to worship, and where to purchase supplies when I was allowed to do so myself. I’d thought that’s all there was to it.

Since we’d reentered, though, my magic strained against my skin. The tattooed brand beat with a beckoning instinct. It wanted out—all of it.

The need to read was a tingling allure that I suppressed, and as I gazed out over Valyn, my mind couldn’t help but highlight each temple I knew of, like they were summoning me to convene with the Fates.

“Stargirl?”

A sure but soft voice brought me back to myself. A gentle grip on my wrist and the strum of a thumb across my pulse.

I snapped my eyes down to Cypherion’s, worry gazing back among the deep blues.

“Talk to me,” he said.

“I…” I cast one more glance over the city, then turned my back on the window and stepped between his legs. Cypherion kept one hand on mine, the other resting gently against my hip.

“Tonight, we should go to the Second District and visit the temple. See what sort of protection is around the archives. It’s been years since I’ve visited that location, and I’m not sure what their current system is.”

His brows pulled together, clearly suspicious of my obvious discomfort. But I avoided his eyes and stifled the magic riling within me.

“We should wear our cloaks and hide what weapons we can beneath them.” I looked at the sword Ophelia had given me when we first left Damenal, now resting beside Cypherion’s scythe. Warmth gathered in my chest at the sight. “We don’t want to look like a threat.”

He scoffed, and that had a small smile breaking on my lips. I looked down at him, the warrior with a heart as soft as an Angel’s wing but who commanded weapons with the brutality of the gods.

A complexity, a duality.

Mine.

And some of that discomfort cleared further. In this room, with him, I was safe but not caged. I was freer than I’d ever been, the future retained more promise than even my magic could guarantee, but it was mine to wield.

I lifted my hand to the back of his neck and curled his hair around my fingers. “How are you feeling?”

For a moment, he seemed surprised that I asked. His head tilting slightly, considering—and he finally admitted, “I’m worried.”

“About the archives?”

“Yes,” he said, gently massaging my hip through the chiffon of my skirt. “But also my friends.”

“When was the last you heard from them?” They’d been keeping communication scarce, but it was clear from the strain of his voice how much it pained him to be away from them.