Chapter Thirty-Six Claire
I heard owls shortly before dawn—then boom. The Ignition turned my neighbor into a dragon and burned my house down. You can’t convince me owls aren’t bad luck!
—Belligerent customer removed from Faire la Déroute tavern
Chapter Thirty-Six
Claire
Marshal Payen insists we lodge in the barracks for our own safety. I don’t dare steal anything from the gendarmes, but after one night’s stay, I mysteriously land in the interrogation room.
Marshal Payen sits with folded arms in the seat across the table. Lyle stands at her side. Abel stands by me. My fingers curl into Lucy’s fur as I fight the urge to squirm in my chair.
“Am I under arrest for something?” I ask teasingly.
Abel’s throat bobs. The unease in his expression roils my stomach, as if something invisible between us has shifted.
“What’s the matter?” I ask him. “You’re scaring me.”
“Just listen to everything we have to say. Please,” he replies.
Marshal Payen doesn’t bat an eye. “Abel informed me that you’re a dragon.”
I rise so fast, Lucy leaps from my lap. “You told her?” I shout at him.
“Calm down. Your secret remains in this room,” Marshal Payen says placatingly.
“I don’t believe you. How could you, Abel? I trusted you!”
“Your trust is not misplaced.” He pulls me close. “Please, just let me explain.”
I cling to him. As much as I want to shove him away, he keeps me standing. He’s always kept me standing.
“I’ve been keeping a secret since the prisoner was arrested,” he confesses. “I didn’t want you to worry for my safety, but now that it concerns you, I can’t hide it in good conscience anymore.”
“I’ll always worry about you, Abel. Tell me.”
He hesitates. “The assassins are Noctu cultists.”
My arms tense around him. “Cultists?”
“But they aren’t simple zealots.” He takes a deep breath. “They turn into owls during the full moon.”
My throat closes. The room tilts, as if the ground is slowly caving in. My mind slips back to the last full moon, when the owls watched me in the courtyard of the étoile Palace and again through the window of our hotel room.
“Owls were following me,” I croak.
“Or you’re moving toward the same location,” Abel replies. “We don’t know the reason for their behavior yet. But we can find out.”
“Lyle, show her the maps,” Marshal Payen orders.
He unfurls two maps across the table. The first map depicts Varsonne and the surrounding mountains. The second map shows the entirety of Florent. Both are marked up with heavy ink.
Marshal Payen taps the first map. “We narrowed down the prisoner’s destination to this general area. We believe the cultists are gathering here, in pursuit of something called eau de vie.”
“ ‘Water of life?’ ” I look up at Abel. “What is she talking about?”
“We don’t know what it is, exactly,” Marshal Payen answers for him. “But the way I see it, eau de vie is the heart of the cultists’ organization. Find eau de vie, find the cultists. I need a dragon to guide my brigade so I can bring them to justice.”
“Guide you?” I echo. “I don’t know this area, and I’ve never heard of eau de vie. I can’t help you.”
Abel sits me back in the chair, kneels before me, and takes my hands in his. They’re shaking so badly, his body trembles with the weight of the words his soundless lips are attempting to shape.
“Why do I feel like you wish to betray our agreement?” I try to pull my hands away, but he won’t let me. “You promised to slay me!”
“You said you wanted to come north,” he pleads. “You named these mountains.”
“So what?”
“Dragons are instinctively migrating to the same location as the cultists,” Lyle says. “If you just follow your instincts, you’ll lead us to them.”
“Nonsense. Gérard didn’t ask to go to the Northern Alps.”
“No, but he still traveled in this direction,” Abel says. “Look at this other map.” He offers the messier one. “Every one of these lines represents a different dragon. Look where their path takes them.”
I can’t deny the pattern. “All dragons go north?”
“Yes. Including you.”
Wonder pushes my anger aside. From Sellecastel to Varsonne, I never planned more than one step ahead. My intention wasn’t to move north, necessarily, but I did all the same. A few detours here and there to find help or resources, but every choice I made pushed me toward these very mountains.
“But why do you need me to guide you to the cultists?” I ask. “I’m not the only dragon in Florent. Can’t you let me die in peace?”
“Because you might not have to die.” Lyle makes an offering gesture. “There’s a deeper secret behind the Gods’ War, and it rests in these mountains. Whatever ‘water of life’ is, based on the name alone, it might help you.”
“Those are just words. They could mean anything.”
“Exactly,” Abel insists. “Anything is possible with magic involved. Why not a cure?”
Lucy paws at my knees. She must sense me holding my breath, but I can’t pull my focus away from the map.
“Even if a cure exists, I don’t deserve it.” Tears edge my lashes. “Marshal, I’m everything the Church wants humanity to reject. I’m a greedy criminal.”
“Please don’t,” Abel protests.
“No! I am one of the Dames Blanches. I’ve spun lies, started fights, and stolen thousands of lunes and soleils.” My lip quivers, but I push on. “I’ve killed people, including my own Dame Blanche sister.”
“She attacked you first!”
“You always say two is a pattern,” I cry. “She was number two.”
“You’re wrong.” Abel takes my cheeks in his palms, and it is my turn to cling to his hands. “You didn’t kill that cultist in Ravinfort. She had ice healing magic.”
“Ice healing?”
“She healed just like you do, except the wounds froze over. Their magic seems to mirror the dragon curse.”
My body melts with relief—then runs cold again. As much as I want that to make my guilt go away, the knot lingers in my stomach.
“Doesn’t one murder say enough about my moral compass?” I ask. “Diu chose me for a reason.”
“Whether it’s one or two, it doesn’t matter. The cultists committed far worse crimes than you did. If Diu didn’t curse them too, then there’s no way he chose you on the basis of greed. It must be something else.”
“Greed isn’t my only sin. What if Diu punished me for a different one?”
“What if it’s not about punishment at all?”
“That wouldn’t make it okay for me to survive! I killed someone!”
“Abel will still slay you if that is what you choose,” Marshal Payen interjects. “But every crime you committed can have purpose, if you see this investigation through to the end. You might even get answers from the Gods in the process.”
“Why would a gendarme trust a Diu-cursed criminal to lead them?” I whisper.
“Because this investigation is not about greed, nor faith. Here in Varsonne, where winter is harsh and prayers get us nowhere, we value facts. We seek evidence and prosecute the guilty not for the magic in their veins, but for the blood on their human hands.”
“But I do have—”
She lifts a silencing hand. “Whatever you had to do to survive, I don’t have a scrap of evidence. Expunge your guilt elsewhere. I asked you here to serve as our guide, nothing more. My goal is one thing only: Save Florent from the cultists.”
Lucy leaps onto my lap, eyes big and expecting. I hug her, too stunned to speak.
“You were punished for your crimes well before you committed them. You did your time,” Abel says. Once again, he takes my hand. “Don’t let the world tell you what you are. You’re not the thief. Diu robbed you.”
The justification I told myself from the very beginning, thrown back at me. Those words were my daily prayer. A promise to myself. I never believed anyone would agree with me.
“I’ve killed people too,” Abel says softly. “Am I irredeemable?”
I wipe my eyes. “Of course not.”
“Then neither are you. You’re allowed to fight for your life, no matter how small the odds.” He swallows. “It’s up to you.”
My heart squeezes so hard, I’m suffocating. He really has changed. He left the choice to pursue this tiny hope for a cure in my hands.
I throw my arms around his neck and cling to him for dear life, as tightly as he clings to me. Even if this ends in my death, I’ll be right next to him, devoting my final days to helping the Gendarmerie make the realm a safer place.
“I’ll do it,” I whisper. “I want to fight.”