Page 139 of Fire to the Stars

“You understand what that means, don’t you?” I say. “The Immortals controlled our records. They had the power to rewrite our reports in any way they wanted, then disseminate them across Florent.”

“Those records dehumanized dragons,” Lyle adds, “and reinforced the false scripture that said their only purpose was destruction. They conditioned us to discredit slayers like Abel so that we wouldn’t look for the real reason for Diu’s curse.”

Claire shifts a hand to her hip. “Congratulations, slayers. The Immortals conned you. You’ve been perpetuating a crime since the Dark Days.”

Defiant murmurs rouse the room. Lyle and I share a worried look. Shaming them wasn’t part of my plan, but the strength of their denial makes that difficult to avoid.

Noctu did mention that the Immortals acted to avoid the psychological consequences of shame. The Guild is their creation. Maybe the slayers are no different.Iwas no different. I only changed because Micah made it personal for me. There’s nothing I can do to make it personal for them.

Maybe changing their minds was too insurmountable a task from the start.

A boy stands up in the back row.

“Does this mean I don’t have to train anymore?” he asks.

Étienne whirls around.Allthe slayers look at the boy, but his attention remains on me. He’s a boy of twelve, maybe thirteen. Shaggy brown hair in need of a cut. Shoulders too narrow for his dragon-scale uniform. Training has not been kind to him. His eye is swollen, arm in a sling, fingers splinted, and hand bandaged to the fingertips. Emotion swims in his good eye—a flash of something akin to hope.

“Sitdown, Richelieu,” Étienne hisses at the boy.

“Do I get to stop training?” Richelieu asks again.

“That’s correct,” I say, almost in disbelief at his interruption. “There’s nothing left to fight.”

“Satisfied?” Claire lifts her chin at Étienne. “Your days of hunting us are over.”

“No.I am not satisfied.” Étienne nods at Claire. “What of her, Marshal? Did you verify her dragon identity before this charade?”

“Before and after. I watched her transform,” Marshal Payenreplies. “Claire Belgard was undoubtedly under the influence of Diu’s magic.”

“Cut her.”

“She’s already wounded,” I protest.

Claire tears off her bandage, then offers her hand to Étienne. With a moondagger of his own, he slices a fresh line parallel to her scabbed cut. She worries her lip, suppressing the obvious pain that makesmeflinch, but doesn’t pull away. The audience leans forward and watches with few blinks as blood overflows and drips onto the table in softpats.

The absence of healing steam bowls over the silence like post-Ignition bells.

One slayer blurts, “What are we supposed to do now?”

“This is our livelihood!” another yells.

“How are we supposed to support our families?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “Earn coin like everyone else, I suppose.”

“That’s not good enough,” Étienne growls.

“What you want doesn’t matter,” Lyle tells them, laying a letter on the table—stamped with the wax royal seal. At me, he winks. “Received this in the post this morning.”

Étienne frowns and unfolds the parchment. “ ‘By the order of King Philippe and Queen Danielle, no further harm is to come to previously identified dragons unless the presence of healing magic is confirmed through physical cut…’ ”

He drops the letter, face red.

“The Gendarmerie are already receiving reports of mass panic regarding the spontaneous disintegration of the Immortals,” Marshal Payen announces. “The king and queen want a fullinvestigation into the extent of the conspiracy to give the people answers. Starting today, we will be conducting a search of every church and archive building for hidden records. We expect you to hand over all Old Tongue documentation in your possession.”

A slayer stands in the middle of the audience. “I can translate records,” she says. “I’ll sell you my services.”

Surprise lifts Marshal Payen’s eyebrow. “I’m planning to put out a summons once we—”