Page 131 of Fire to the Stars

I clutch the pelt against my chest, body numb as I crawl to him, not caring to question the presence of the black-hairedstranger who stands over his supine form. Heat emanates from Abel’s skin so strongly that I’m unsure where to touch without hurting him. He’sunrecognizable. Face blistered, eyebrows gone, eyelids nearly fused together. Traces of silver liquid line the corners of his mouth, like melted moonmetal.

“Claire,” he wheezes.

“It’s all right,” I lie. “You’re all right.”

He lifts a finger from the hand that rests on his stomach, as if that’s all the strength he can muster. I take his hand in mine. As gingerly as I can, I bring it to my cheek. He smiles weakly; then his body shudders. Lucy pants and paws at him.

“Lyle!” I scream.

Lyle abandons his horse and sprints to us. He kneels at Abel’s opposite side.

“Did I do this to him?” I cry.

“It wasn’tyou.” Lyle shakes his head. “Wake up, friend. Wakeup!”

“I love you, Abel. Please, don’t die.”

“He will survive.”

I look up sharply at the sound of the ethereal voice. The black-haired man still watches, waiting patiently. A strange, ancient style of garment drapes his body. Upon closer look, he has moon-white skin. His eyes glitter like a starry sky.

“How—” I begin, but then Abel’s skincrackles. Ice spreads across his cuts, burns, and puncture wounds. Inch by inch, the ice melts and leaves healthy olive skin behind. Amazed, I thumb the last droplet of silver liquid from his lips and rub it between my fingers.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Eau de vie,” the man replies with a hint of pride.

Lucy yips and hops excitedly.

Abel sits up. His arms, strong as ever, pull me into his embrace. Water drips from his chin and onto my shoulder, making me shiver. I try to pluck a coherent thought from my frazzled mind, but then the meaning of the ethereal man’s words—eau de vie—sinks into me.

Water of life.

Not for me, but for Abel.

“Look outside. The suns are still up,” Abel says, half laughing, his voice suddenly clear. “You’re cured.”

“I’mcured?”

That can’t be right. If eau de vie cured him, then what cured me? Diu’s curse can’t have vanished without a reason.

“We did it.” Abel takes my cheeks in his hands. “Diu no longer needs you.”

“Needsme?”

The strange man nods, as if Abel’s claim isn’t insanity.

Beyond my galloping heartbeat, every sound is jumbled. Lyle throws his muscled arms around us in one big hug. Lucy shoves herself into the narrow space between us to join the love.

I draw a moondagger from Abel’s tattered belt.

“Don’t!” he shouts, reaching for the dagger, but he’s too slow. I’ve already turned it on myself.

Blood blooms bright and red from the slice in my palm. Stinging pain twinges through my fingers. It hurts more than I intended. But it’s the absence of Diu’s healing steam that makes me cry.

The dragon in me has died.

Abel’s eyes turn glassy. Melted ice? Tears? Both, maybe. He recounts the events I missed while I was asleep. Noctu. The owls. Eau de vie. Diu’s true agenda. I absorb bits and pieces, but the details don’t quite sink in. I just cling to the fact that we’re both here. We both survived.