Page 29 of Fire to the Stars

“What do you suggest I do? Nothing?”

“I suggest you start learning how to protect yourself againstpeople. These are criminals you’re dealing with, and I know how they think.”

I pause halfway through sliding the mask into my pack, beside my journal. I see what she’s doing. This is Claire’s way of asserting her necessity. Our argument last night never ended.

My side of the debate proves weaker now that I’ve had time to process the severity of what happened. I’d have died twice if it hadn’t been for her help. My pack would have been stolen. Lucy would be dead—mauled by a silverwolf or drowned. Micah’s story would never make it to an archive.

“I’m sorry, Claire. I should’ve thanked you sooner. For…” I make a vague gesture with my hand. “Everything.”

“You can thank me by keeping our arrangement.”

Fifth rule of dragon hunting: Do not endanger civilians.

That rule is the reason I hesitate.

A loud grumble cuts through the silence. It takes me a few blinks to realize it’s Claire’s stomach.

I snort. “You’re not accustomed to skipping meals, are you?”

A blush colors her freckled cheeks. She slips her satchel’s strap over her head and turns her back on me. “Where to next, Monsieur Abel?”

I heft the pack onto my shoulders. “There’s a small settlement downstream. We can determine where we go from there. And before you say I’m dense and I learned nothing from this, we’ll stay off the main path.”

“Now, now. I never said you were dense.”

Her sarcasm tells me she was thinking it.

I call Lucy, whose snout and paws are caked in soot. She trots to Claire instead, tongue lolling. Claire shoots me a victory smirk.

People aren’t easy for me to read, but I’m trained to study behavioral patterns. She smirks every time she overcomes an obstacle. It’s an overcorrection of sorts.

She’s suppressing more emotion than she lets on.

If I accept her help, there will be more dangers, more brutal choices to make to defend ourselves. But that doesn’t seem to deter her. Her bloodthirst for the Sellecastel dragon runs toodeep.

Technically, the slayer’s handbook leaves “endangering a client” open to interpretation. There’s no royal decree against a funding arrangement, either. If the Guild wanted to make it illegal, the highest-ranked slayers would have to travel to the Étoile Palace and get in line behind hundreds of civilians just to seek an audience with King Philippe. They won’t care enough to do that.

My decision goes against everything my parents and instructors trained me to do, but I need Claire’s unscrupulous skill set. Without her, my odds of survival decrease exponentially.

That settles it. Claire comes with me. I just hope neither one of us regrets it.

Evidently, abundant access to translations ofL’Histoire des Étoilesis not enough to educate the public about the importance of preventive measures against Diu’s curse. I hereby grant the Council of Cardinals their request for a federal stipend to begin pilgrimages across Florent. Spread the good word!

—Royal decree by His Majesty King Benoit IV, 182 AA

Chapter Nine

Claire

The splintering signpost on the side of the road reads:Jordes Town Limit.

If one can call it a town. Jordes offers little more than a cluster of creaky storefronts in desperate need of new roof tiles. A tackle shop, a dove aviary, and a few fishing boats tied to the single dock. It’s not so much a town as it is a fishing outpost nestled in an alcove along the Tordou River. To the dismay of my sore feet, no horses.

This is the perfect spot to get away with murder.

“It’s too open here. We should go north, away from the river,” I suggest. “It’s the harder route, but less predictable.”

“We’re not leaving here without warning the Gendarmerie first.”