Page 103 of Fire to the Stars

Claire comes to my side and hugs my good arm. I don’t have to look at her to feel her concern that I might fall over.

Madame Afi, maker of my helmet, the woman who loved me and my brother more than our parents ever did. The family we deserved. The familyIdeserved.

The bolt to my shoulder didn’t hit this hard.

“How?” I demand.

“They found her head on the doorstep of her home this morning.”

Claire claps a hand over her mouth. I stare. I don’t have the emotional capacity to absorb this.

“The plan went south. The prisoner got away,” he continues. “But it wasn’t a complete loss. They discovered some things that you need to see.”

“Which are?”

“Payen didn’t say. It was too significant to risk with a dove. She wants you to travel to the station in Varsonne to hear it personally.”

Lyle is grieving alone in an empty house right now, surrounded by reminders of Madame Afi’s absence. But I’m torn between his mother’s death and the scraps of life Claire has left.Knowing him, he’d be upset if I prioritized his comfort when I could go straight to himaftermy time with Claire comes to anend.

Frustration and grief quaver my voice. “I told you before. I don’t have time to help investigate right now.”

“Abel.” Claire tugs my arm. “We should go.”

“Not at the expense of where you want to travel.”

“It wouldn’t be. Varsonne is on the way.”

I shut my mouth.

Varsonne: the city of mines and metal, best known for blacksmithing and coin minting. The highest bastion of Florentian civilization, located at the base of the Northern Alps.

It’s in the north.

Let us begin the Age of Mortality with a commitment to the truth. We are a selfish species, and we have much work to do.

—King Francis I upon his coronation, 1 AA

Chapter Thirty-Five

Abel

The Gendarmerie escort our carriage out of the city in plain clothes. Still, Claire draws the curtains and shuts out unwanted eyes. In the cabin’s heavy shadows, my stare falls to the satchel under her seat across from mine, where the bulge of my journal hides behind her heel. Now that Madame Afi is dead, the guilt for my research—for putting a target on so many people’s backs—only cuts deeper.

“Do what you need to do. I’m here for you.” She moves to my bench, then rests her head on my shoulder. “Don’t worry aboutme.”

I do worry about her. I do nothingbutworry about her. Besides Lyle and Lucy, she’s all I have left. Micah, Madame Afi, and soon Claire will disappear from my life with nothing to show for it. The urge to wrench meaning from that journal haunts me so badly, my vision blurs.

“It’s okay to cry, remember?” She cups my cheek. “You don’t have to hide anything from me.”

Gods, she’s perceptive. But it’s not just my emotions that I’ve been hiding.

I still haven’t told her about the existence of ice healing powers. Learning that she didn’t kill that woman in Ravinfort would alleviate her guilt, in theory, but it would never fade completely. Not after she killed someone for real in Jardincourt. At this point, the presence of Noctu’s magic will only escalate her worry overmysafety. She deserves to spend her last days away from as many of my problems as possible. But keeping it to myself is isolating.

I let Claire brush the wetness away with her calfskin gloves, ashamed. All this time, she’s held herself together with no help. You’d think I’d have it in me too, since I’m the one with the future.

At the end of the day, being an Estellio isn’t the most unfortunate thing in the world. I’m not the one with bad luck.

She is.