Page 32 of Fire to the Stars

“A trap for what? Lyle is my friend. He wouldn’t set me up under any circumstances. Besides, we don’t have a choice. I only have daggers left, and it could take weeks to find another moonmetal smith.” He shakes his head when I open my mouth to argue. “This benefits you, too. Your dragon will likely kill me if I’m not better equipped.”

I press my lips together, tugging at my ponytail as I survey our too-tranquil surroundings. Lucy sniffs along the dock. The lone fisherman tosses her a minnow. She paws at it. When it wiggles, she scampers back to my side.

Are we really safe to linger here?

“It doesn’t matter anyway,” I say finally. “After buying those horses, we’re nearly out of coin, and there’s barely anyone here to pickpocket.”

Abel frowns. He knows I’m right.

“If this is about money, I don’t need it,” Lyle calls out to us.

Abel returns to him. Reluctantly, I follow. If the items are free, it’s quicker to let him take what he wants so we can leave.

Lyle digs through his pack and reveals the sheathed long sword. Abel draws it for a look. It gleams like steel, but there’s a strange depth to the color. Freshly forged moonmetal sparkles more than I expected.

“It’s perfect,” Abel says, sheathing it. “Thank you.”

“I have something even better for you,” Lyle adds. He withdraws two more items from the pack: a shackle-shaped object and a thick envelope of parchment. He offers the envelope first. “Since Hanna is gone, you should take this.”

I intercept it. “What’s inside?”

“The human identity of Hanna’s next target.”

Dread ices my stomach.

“You’re kidding.” Abel snatches the envelope from my fingers and pulls out the contents. Upon skimming the first lines, he runs a hand through his hair. The smile playing at the corner of his lips makes my blood run cold.

“Why would you even have that?” I ask.

“Identity records can impact equipment design,” Lyle explains, then looks to his friend. “Thorough, isn’t it?”

“Hanna and I were tracking the same target.” Abel turns his smile to me, shaking the papers in disbelief. “This is the dragon that attacked Bourlin. I’ll find your dragon eventually, but we’re taking a detour.”

No. I need him to prioritizemyhunt, or masked murderers are the least of my concerns. He could end up killed by a dragon that has nothing to do with me, whether he intends to cure it ornot.

“Get another slayer to do it.” I slip into an excuse. “I didn’t agree to fund you for two targets.”

His excitement sours. “This dragon has killed dozens of people already. With Hanna gone, I’m best prepared to apprehend it before it catches anyone off guard. Leaving it for another slayer would be irresponsible.”

“I hired you first!”

“Client cases aren’t handled in order. They’re prioritized according to success probability,” he continues coolly. “I have a dragon’s identity, which is as close to a guaranteed slaying as it gets. Just because you want to accompany my hunt doesn’t mean I’ll track your target first.”

Desperate words stick in my throat.No, Abel.I’mas close to guaranteed as it gets.But it’s not safe for me to confess that yet. Not until I can determine his reason for hunting again.

Lyle offers the moonmetal contraption next.

“What’s this?” Abel asks, taking it.

“It was for Hanna. That shackle was her design,” Lyle explains. “She commissioned it a few weeks ago. Prepaid, so it’s yours.”

The shackle disturbs me, but I feign innocent curiosity. I need to know what I’m facing, should Abel turn on me. “Why is it sized for a human arm?”

“It fits around the elbow joint.”

“But what does it do?”

“Dragon anatomy shifts in a specific order. The scapula sprouts the wing’s membrane, but the arm provides the skeletalstructure.” Lyle flips a lock mechanism and splits the shackle’s two halves apart, revealing sawlike blades that clamp down on whatever is inside. “Think of this like a tourniquet. The tighter it gets, the more it digs in. As the bones expand, the force will push the elbow against the blade and amputate it below the humerus. That way, the dragon will enter the Ignition with a severed wing.”