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As hot oil spits and crackles in the pan, Hokzuh stuffs his face with skewered meats. “Maybe you can be a singer and a cook. A singing cook. I’d pay to see that.”

“Stop trying to charm me, demon. You’re not getting your moonstone back.”

Hokzuh smothers his smile. “I thought you had questions.”

“I do. But if you lie to me—” I hold up an egg and crush it in my fist, illustrating my point.

“Don’t I get any credit for coming back?” Hokzuh protests. “I saved you.”

“But not my sister.” I pluck a slice of bread straight from the pan’s crackling heat, knowing the yeasty aroma of fat tantalizes the dragon. I take a loud bite, nodding with satisfaction as I chew.

Then I begin my interrogation: “What is your moonstone? It’s not just some morbid keepsake. It’s magic. For what?”

“It’s a talisman,” confesses Hokzuh. “An enchanter in Cipang made it in exchange for…a price. So long as I am near it, I can suppress my demon side.”

“Your demon side.” This is the first time I’ve heard him refer to it as such. “What do you mean?”

“Without a talisman, I would turn into a demon when the sun sets,” he explains. “That is my curse as a dragon without a pearl.”

I lean against a table, noting how his scales flicker, changing between black and blue-green depending on where the shadows fall. It’s a subtle effect, but now that I know to look, I can’t unsee it.

“Angma lured you to Shenlani,” I realize. “She knew who you were.”

Hokzuh sinks onto a bench. “She took away my moonstone.”

“Then had Meguh kill your men.”

“No.” Hokzuh’s voice is thick. “I told you that Meguh’s guards killed my men, but it’s not true. I wish it were.”

I wait, giving him time.

“When we wouldn’t fight in the arena, Meguh put us all in the same cell.” His tail curls in as he stares at the ground. “He knew what would happen that night. Without my moonstone, I couldn’t control myself. I killed my own men. My friends.”

I’ve completely forgotten about my bread.

Hokzuh inhales. “Sometimes, in the dark when I’m alone, I can still hear them screaming.”

I turn so I don’t have to face him, and busy myself by transferring the rest of the bread to a plate. But inwardly, it’s hard to pretend I’m unmoved. I know what it’s like to be haunted by the same dream night after night. To fear what I might do if my darkness were unleashed.

“You see?” A hoarse laugh scrapes out of him. “I told you I’d kill my best friends for the pearl. I made good on my word.”

I say nothing. I ladle fish soup into a bowl, but I don’t taste it. “What happened after?”

“Ishirya gave me to Meguh. He starved me for weeks, then put me in the arena. Said he’d feed me for every win I made. At first, I resisted, but then he stopped leaving the moonstone near my cell at night. Dead bodies showed up in the morning, and to this day, I still don’t know who they were. Only that they were innocent. And that their deaths were my fault.”

Gods, I hope Meguh’s rotting in the Ninth Hell. “So you became his champion.”

“Yes. I killed. I slaughtered. I’ve lost count how many. Some were demons, others were not.” His wings fold. “I always tried to make it quick.”

I sit beside him on the bench and take his arm, turning it so I can see the names inked deep into his flesh. Now that I know his story, each line has new meaning.

Much as I’m angry at him for choosing his moonstone over Vanna, I can understand his fear. “You aren’t alone,” I say at last, repeating what he once told me. “I know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself.”

“No, you don’t,” he says stolidly. “Your mind is your own. That isn’t your curse.”

I part my lips, but Hokzuh doesn’t give me a chance.

“Do you know what it’s like turning into a demon against your will?” He growls. “It’s like having drunk far too much wine and being pushed by someone you hate to do things you despise. All while barely remembering your own name.”