Page 31 of Fire to the Stars
Quite the talker. Justifiable in front of a pretty girl, but more understandable if he has a secret or two. And combined with the boastful language? He’s putting on an image. It’s what I do. But he speaks too fast and too much. That suggests inexperience in the art of deception—and reeks of desperation.
Abel won’t see what I see without some prodding.
I lightly tap his boot with mine.Tell him,I mouth.
“Lyle,” he says eventually, “we just escaped an attack on Ravinfort. A group of killers seems to be targeting the slayer industry.”
His face falls. “Killers?”
“I didn’t see your mother. Was she traveling with you? Or—”
“She’s alive. She’s safe.” Lyle’s voice breaks. “Just…tell me what happened to Ravinfort.”
“Everything’s gone. The archives. Your workshop. The du Fay castle.” Abel’s hands form fists at his sides. “Hanna was murdered right in front of me. Do you know if any of the other du Fays were out on a hunt?”
“Hanna said her brothers were staying local for a while.” Lyle makes a pleading gesture. “Are you sure they didn’t survive?”
“If they were home, then the du Fays are all dead. Even the gendarmes. If it hadn’t been for Claire, I’d be dead too. I don’t think anyone got out alive but us.”
“Gods,” Lyle whispers. “Gods.They’re all dead?”
I level my stare on him. “Pardon my bluntness, but why weren’tyoukilled?”
“Claire,” Abel warns. “Lyle doesn’t need an interrogation.”
“Ineed information. Do you want me to keep you safe ornot?”
Lyle seems harmless, but in my line of work, that doesn’t make a person innocent. He’s less than a day’s walk from Ravinfort. The attackers might’ve let him slip away for a nefarious reason.
“It’s okay, Abel,” Lyle replies. “I’ve been out of town for a few weeks. I’d been up north moving Ma back to her old house in Varsonne. Just now I was headed home to Ravinfort.”
“Why would Madame Afi want to move so far away?” Abel asks, sounding hurt.
“I think she’s been feeling her own mortality lately. She wanted to live near Pa’s grave again. She’s been depressed since…you know.”
A somber look passes between them.
“Does she seem happier there?” Abel asks.
Lyle’s expression fractures—for a beat. “She’s better. More motivated to work, at least. The Guild gave her some raw materials to keep her hands busy.” He shakes his bag. It clacks as if full of weaponry. “Lucky for me, Pa’s forge still worked. I managed to make some new inventory while I was there.”
Abel brightens. “Do you have a long sword?”
“You bet. The best one I’ve forged.”
“Pardon us for a moment,” I say sweetly, pulling Abel away by the sleeve until we’re in the shade of a tree, out of earshot.
“What is it?” he asks.
“Something’s strange about his story. He just helped his mother move to the northernmost city in the kingdom, yet he’s conveniently carrying a sack full of merchandise?”
“Strange doesn’t mean suspicious. Lyle is not our enemy.”
“Anyone can become an enemy under the right conditions.”
“What are you implying?”
“I don’t know, honestly. But those killers are obviously targeting the Slayers Guild, so finding a supplier this close to a decimated outpost feels orchestrated. Like a trap.”
