Page 45 of Fire to the Stars

Angéline’s stare narrows at the mention of my assistant. Another irregularity I bring to the table.

The punishment may not fit the crime.

As bad as it makes me look, I can’t bring myself to have Gérard arrested yet. Curiosity compels me to dig deeper into his human flaws. I want to know the level of greed he possessed before Diu cursed him. That way, I can compare it to Micah’s.

“Dismiss the Estellio name, if you must,” I say, “but you’re legally required to assist me. If you don’t trust this information, take solace in the fact that a du Fay gathered it.”

The full attention Angéline shoots me at Hanna’s surname is a stab, but I make myself ignore it. I can’t fathom why I ever viewed Hanna as competition and hoped for her failure. And now that she’s dead, I’m using her name as a stepping stone. It makes me sick.

“I’m only here to finish the job,” I add.

She doesn’t press the matter. “If this dragon is hiding in Jardincourt, I’ll find him. How should I contact you?”

I check the grandfather clock positioned in the corner opposite the stairway. Less than ten minutes until I’m supposed to meet Claire. “I’ll send my assistant with an address later today. And talk to Marshal Bard. There’s a missing person connected to this target. He’ll want your help with that.”

I pay the fee, then leave the station. At the bench, I resist the urge to look up at the clock tower behind me, but each tick of the minute hand makes me flinch. No matter what I do, I draw eyes left and right. Not because of the helmet I shoved under the bench—but because ofLucy. I stupidly didn’t consider that. Tinderfoxes are rare in captivity. Only the Slayers Guild and fire rescue teams benefit from their abilities enough to justify wrangling them.

Any of these people could, in the space of a second, stick a knife into my chest. Sweat slides down my temple. My throat bobs.

Where is Claire? My plan will be shot if she gets caught stealing. I keep an eye on the station in case I spot her being escorted inside. Nothing. Yet. The clock tower’s minute hand clicks again. She’s twelve minutes late.

A pair of gendarmes on patrol cuts through the crowd. Muskets on their shoulders, they march farther and farther down the street, away from me.

A young boy dressed in a silk tunic and oversized boots tugs his mother’s hand. I stiffen when he points at Lucy in my lap.

“I want to pet it!” he exclaims.

The boy’s mother reaches for Lucy’s chin. “May we?”

Maybe they’re killers in disguise. I could punch one of them, like Claire suggested. People would scream. The gendarmes would return. I’d get arrested and end this anxiety in the safety of a jail cell.

Gods, what happened to my morals?

I intercept the mother’s wrist instead. “She bites.”

My glare sends them away in an angry swish of the mother’s skirt. I don’t like being rude, but I’m not a sideshow attraction.

Fingers ruffle my hair. I whirl to smack them away.

“Did you miss me?” Claire asks, amused.

“You’re late.”

“It’s the holiday season. Inns are crowded.” She pokes my chest. “Lucky for you, I found us a room.”

Aroom. Singular. “What about my journal?”

“It’s safe. And unread.”

“Good. Let’s get out of here.”

I follow Claire to a five-story inn standing at the corner of a square-shaped plaza. I’d be sleeping anxiously on the streets tonight if it weren’t for her. Diu doesn’t let me get away with much—Estellio luck proves that—but at least he sees some good in her.

The room is comfortable. Though it’s hard to appreciate it.

Claire warned me to stay away from the windows, but the temptation to part the white curtains and monitor the foot traffic for Lyle pulls at me. The fifth floor serves as an excellent vantage point. With Claire gone to locate him, I feel useless. I’m prowling the room with nothing but a plain dresser, two full-sized beds, and worry for Madame Afi to keep me company.

I need to do something with myself.