Chapter Fifty Claire
—Dove message to Slayers Guild leadership from Abel Estellio and cosigners
Chapter Fifty
Claire
The door opens and startles me back into my body.
The amber glow of sunsset casts orange light through the frosted window. Yet I’m precisely where Abel left me: on the bed, with a cup of tea that’s lost its steam. The silverwolf blanket still covers my shoulders. My shield against the world.
Lucy hops at the sight of me but remains beside him, as if she’s leashed. She glances up, asking for permission.
“Go on,” he tells her.
In seconds, she’s across the room, diving under the pelt with me. I snuggle her close.
“Still cold?” he asks, removing his coat. A shiver exposes his instant regret for doing so. “You haven’t used the firewood.”
“The pelt warms me just fine.” With a sweep of my arm, I open it for him. “Sit with us?”
He smiles. “How could I refuse?”
We lean against the pillows, my head on his shoulder and our fingers threaded together. Lucy snores between us, coat reverted to a vibrant shade of red that demands to be petted.
It’s the only shade of red I want to see right now.
“The gendarmes didn’t expect me to come back as a human,” I say quietly. “I could see it in their faces.”
“They didn’t expect the Immortals to turn into dust, either,” Abel replies.
“How do we prove a conspiracy without the criminals who caused it?”
Good riddance to the Immortals, but their disappearance makes it difficult to prove their actions.
“Marshal Payen says witnesses across Florent have already come forward with reports of spontaneous combustion,” he reveals. “Their statements will help.”
“But if we can’t make a convincing case, fringe theories will take over. People will spin false tales that prioritize comfort over what’s real.”
That’s especially true for the Slayers Guild.
The Ignition won’t make new dragons, but active bounties are legally tied to human identities. Slayers might kill them in human form just so they can collect.
“What if this doesn’t change people’s minds about who I am inside?” I ask. “What if they don’t want me to live?”
“My fight for your life isn’t over until the Slayers Guild is disbanded. I promise.”
I press my lips together, fighting the impulse to protect myself with a persona. Conning people can’t help me anymore, now that the Gendarmerie know I was cursed.
“You don’t have to come to the meeting,” he offers. “Marshal Payen can vouch for the disappearance of your magic.”
“I want to help. I just don’t know how I’ll face the slayers,” I confess. “They scare me. Especially étienne Houdin.”
I tell him of Anne-Sophie’s daughter, and how étienne displayed her to a crowd of admirers in bloody bindings as if she were no more alive than Gérard’s skeleton. Without healing magic, I can’t brave the world like I did before. My body has limits. Anyone could end the life I just regained.
“I’ll protect you,” he assures me. “Marshal Payen and Lyle will too.”
I stare into my bandaged hand and flex it. My wince makes Abel sigh in relief. I suppose it’ll take us both a while before we stop expecting my injuries to emit steam.
We watch the snow fall outside our window until the last sunsrays vanish. The fur blanket keeps us warm, but I still shake in his arms like a newborn tinderfox. Once the moon rises, I turn my back to him.
“Abel?” I whisper into the dark.
“I’m listening.”
“Be patient with me. I…I need time to trust that this is real.”
“Take all the time you need.”
I fought endlessly for one more month, one more breath. Now that my mortality is permanent, the thought of a future overwhelms me.
“The Guild won’t want this,” he says. “The disappearance of Diu’s curse means an end to their income. They’ll cling to any excuse to collect on their last living targets.”
I nod against the pillow.
“But we will challenge them with everything we have,” he says. “All dragons must survive.”
Two weeks pass. I hardly sleep—especially not tonight.
I could die tomorrow.
The prospect has kept me awake for hours.
At the window, I part the curtains and watch the silver half-moon through the breaks in the clouds.
The owl constellation remains, but both wings are lowered.
A meteor shower streaks across the night sky, passing harmlessly through the celestial realm.
Somewhere up there, Noctu and Diu have reunited.
Could they be celebrating? Papa would have thought so.
I peek beneath my bandage. The cut on my palm remains scabbed over. The doctor said it will scar. I clutch it close to my heart.
Finally, I am finite.
Abel breathes softly in bed. Lucky him. Confidence requires beauty rest. At least one of us should have enough of it to appear presentable in front of the slayers in the morning.
If the slayers choose to let me go, I’ll live an honest life. I’ll have no need for my greedy claws if they stop looking at me like the monster they once convinced me I was.
I’m not that monster. I never was. I did horrible things, yes, but as Abel said when he learned my secret, I shouldn’t have had to endure pain just because I could survive it.
I finally believe that now. Guilt and shame still bruise my heart, but they are their own form of magic.
They’ll turn me into a better person, if I only allow it.
And I will. If I can forgive Diu for what he did to me, I can forgive myself. I swear, I’ll never commit a crime again. I already forgave Abel for his mistakes with Micah, and he forgave mine. We are flawed together.
Lucy whines sleepily from my pillow. I join her and Abel in bed. As on the first night we slept side by side to survive, I wrap Abel’s arm around my middle. He pulls me tightly to him, and the three of us share a good snuggle.
Wait awhile longer for me, Papa.
I have time.