Page 9 of Fire to the Stars

The telltale healing magic of the dragon curse.

Sleep powder—a sedative—is the only reason I slept blanket-wrapped in a fire cellar while the suns eclipsed yesterday at the crack of dawn. Meanwhile, a different dragon spent the day razing Bourlin to cinders. Sleep powder can make me sleep through an Ignition—but even it can’t suppress a dragon’s healing magic. If I’m injured, my skin will still heal, steaming as it does. All it would take is one witness to ruin my life for good.

I slide to my knees, my grip on the basin tight.

I’ve never killed anyone with my human hands. It’s never come to that. Other than Anne-Sophie, I’ve never let anyone get close enough to learn my secret. But if Abel decides he wants to slay me, I’ll have to kill him first.

Someone knocks on the bathroom door.

“Are you all right?” Abel asks.

I jolt upright.

Another knock. “Claire? Do you need help?”

Tears drip from my chin and poke holes in the water. When did I start crying? I thought I ran out of tears ages ago. I push the heels of my hands into my eyes. My sob devolves into a laugh. “Please tell me you play a better game than that, Monsieur Abel.”

“That’s not—” He clears his throat. “I heard a noise. Also,Lucy keeps pacing. I think she needs to relieve herself. Should I wait for you outside?”

His hunter’s ear must be pressed against the other side of the door, waiting for the slightest sound. I bite my lip and stare into the moondagger’s polished surface, willing my red-eyed reflection into the mask Anne-Sophie taught me.

“Claire?”

I need him. I need Abel Estellio.

“Patience, monsieur. Unless you wish to see me naked?” I tease.

A moonmetal edge sharpens his voice. “Mademoiselle, I’d appreciate more professionalism in the future.” He closes the bedroom door with a huff as he exits the room.

I tuck the dagger into my satchel.

If his renewed interest in killing dragons is real, then I’ll steal the journal and run. For the time being, though, I’ll hold out hope. My heart can endure one last con while I determine whether he can cure me.

And if he hurts me? Well…the Dames Blanches taught me that I have every right to defend myself.

Noctu and Diu were first called the Gods of Opposites. They believed it their duty to ensure neither one held total power. A beautiful concept, in theory, but perhaps that is why the Gods’ War was inevitable.

—Sermon onThe Tale of Stars (L’Histoire des Étoiles), Part I: The Book of Origins

Chapter Three

Abel

On the outskirts of Bourlin, the suns shine on the fenced pastures. Cows and horses graze as if nothing happened. Such clear weather would suggest easy travels to anyone else, but not me. The walk down this dirt path is a challenge with two horses in hand. The chestnut mare to my right snorts, speckling my face with moisture. The black gelding to my left rubs his face on my sleeve, which shoves me into the mare. I tighten my grip on each set of reins and focus on staying upright.

Gods, I hate horses.

Claire waits in the shade of the maple trees, brand-new saddlebags at her feet. Exactly where I left her over an hour ago. I’ve been running errands all morning and here she is, cradling Lucy like a newborn baby. Lucy’s tail wags as if presented with all the fire she can eat. Traitor.

“Took you long enough,” Claire chimes.

“If it weren’t for your pickpocketing, you could’ve gone into town and purchased supplies for yourself.”

“If it weren’t for my pickpocketing, you wouldn’t have the funds tolive.” She kisses Lucy’s forehead. “Isn’t that right, ma Luciole?”

I’m starting to think Claire wields invisible puppet strings beneath her fingers—all of which are attached to meandmy familiar. If this job didn’t include instant funding, I’d tell her to take a hike.

I offer a set of reins. “The gelding is yours. The salesman said he’s—” He yanks me sideways, diving for a patch of grass. “Testy,” I grumble.