Penelope POV
"Drop the daggers, country bumpkin, before you get your cheap grease all over the glass."
Marcella spits the words from across the exhibition space.
Her fingers dig deep into Hazel's arm.
Hazel stands there like a broken doll.
She wears that same frail, pitiful smile from Heliport.
It is the exact look that makes weak men want to die for her.
But her pale skin looks tight tonight.
Her blue veins twitch against her jaw.
I do not drop the weapons.
I hold the Starfall Blades higher.
The Stellar Meteorite Steel catches the blue spotlights of the Hall of No Light.
The blades are cold.
They feel heavy and perfect in my right hand.
"You should not speak to my friend like that," Eliora says.
Eliora steps up right beside my shoulder.
Her boots snap hard against the blac
