Page 93 of Ghost Ribbon

“There,” I said, breathless. “Right there. Do you see it? The bright one, low on the—”

Alexei sat up beside me. I was dimly aware of the blanket pooling around both our waists, of the absurdity of being naked on a rooftop with the most dangerous person I had ever met and getting excited about a star.

“You have a star, hm?”

His voice came out strange when he said it.

I nodded, still beaming at the sky.

“Yes. Well. I used to. When I was little.” I lowered my hand slightly, though my eyes stayed fixed on the bright little point of light. “My grandmother told me about it. I used to look for it every night before bed.”

I paused, suddenly self-conscious.

“That sounds stupid,” I added quickly. “I know it’s just a star. I know it doesn’t actually—”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.”

I blinked and looked at him.

He was watching me with an expression I couldn’t quite name. Something soft and unreadable and almost… warm? No. That wasn’t possible. I was projecting. The night was getting to me. The cold was making me imagine things.

“Your grandmother,” he said after a moment. “What did she tell you about stars?”

“She said they were holes poked in the dark. Little ones, where the light leaks through. So the light can breathe.”

Alexei went very still beside me.

I noticed but didn’t think much of it. I was too busy looking at my star, my chest full of something bittersweet and achingly familiar.

“She said the dark is just a blanket,” I continued, softer now. “And behind the blanket is light. More light than you can imagine. Light that goes on forever.”

I laughed a little, embarrassed.

“It’s silly. I know. Stars are just burning gas. But I still…” I shrugged, cheeks warming. “I still like her version better.”

I glanced over at Alexei again.

He was staring at me.

“What?” I asked, suddenly nervous. “Was that weird? I know it’s childish. You don’t have to—”

“How long have you had that star?”

The question caught me off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“Your hope star,” he said. “How long have you called it that?”

I frowned slightly, thinking. “Since I was… I don’t know. Six? Seven?”

Alexei looked at me for a long, strange moment.

Then he stood up.

I flinched before I could stop myself, the old fear surging up reflexively, my body forgetting for half a second that this was the same person who had been holding me gently minutes ago. He noticed, I could tell by the brief flicker in his eyes, but he didn’t comment on it.

Instead he walked toward the far edge of the rooftop.