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I remember the demon that helped me flee Bonemaker’s Arena. I can’t believe the words that I end up uttering: “Not all demons are murderers. Some fear humans more than we fear them.”

“Those demons have a heart,” Hokzuh replies. “A darker, different kind of heart than yours. But a heart all the same. I have none.”

“Then work with me to find your heart. Accept my offer…. I won’t ask again.”

“Your offer?” His wide brow furrows. “To wait until Vanna dies?”

“A natural death,” I affirm. “You’ve dragon blood and demon blood—a few decades are nothing to you. And you will help us kill Angma.”

“I can’t have only the demon half,” he says darkly.

“You won’t. Vanna will take it. She will bear both halves until she dies, and then you may have them.”

“Both halves?” Hokzuh nearly knocks over a table in his disbelief. “That would keep her alive for far longer than a few decades.”

“Then you’ll have to wait a little longer—” I preempt his protests with a dismissive wave. “I’m not negotiating.”

Hokzuh’s jaw tightens. “You’re impossible.”

“And you don’t have a choice. You don’t want to fight against me, Hokzuh.”

“All right,” he mutters. “All right. I accept.”

“It’s not a deal. It’s a promise. You will swear it to me.”

Make him swear on his true name, says Ukar, slithering inside through one of the windows. His scales match the wooden frame, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been there the whole time, eavesdropping. The name he was born with.

Hokzuh glares at the snake. “I don’t need to swear on my true name. If Vanna has the entire pearl, she’ll be a thousand times stronger than she is now. She’d be able to fend me off easily.”

“Then it’ll cost you nothing to swear,” I say. “I’m not taking any chances. Make the oath. Now. On your true name.”

After a long pause, he inhales. “Khramelan,” he says finally, so quietly I have to strain to hear it. “Don’t repeat it. Names gather power only when they’re kept secret. When they’re forgotten.”

I nod, feeling the power of Khramelan tingle against the nape of my neck. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s uttered it.

“To Channari Jin’aiti, I make this inviolable oath: I swear on my true name, Khramelan, that I shall not harm Vanna Jin’aiti of Sundau, and that I shall help her slay the Demon Witch.”

There’s no bolt of lightning, no spark of fire from the stove as he makes his promise. But the air between us goes still, heavy with shared intention.

A promise is not a kiss in the wind, Channi, Mama used to tell me. It is a piece of yourself that is given away and will not return until your pledge is fulfilled.

On her last night on this earth, Mama bound me to a promise with Vanna. And now I am bound to Hokzuh.

I lob over a piece of fried bread. “Eat.”

While Hokzuh chews, I help him knot the moonstone around his neck. The talisman is more fragile than it looks. “Why did you come back?” I ask.

Another bite. He takes a sudden interest in his plate, and I almost think he won’t answer. Then he says: “Isn’t it obvious?”

“No.”

His mouth hangs open for a breath. “For your cooking,” he says at last, plastering on the ghost of a grin. “Bread’s delicious, by the way. Is that pork fat you used? I must get the recipe.”

I roll my eyes and try to snatch the bread back. But Hokzuh’s fast. He tosses the last scrap into his mouth, and I end up grabbing his empty hand.

It’s as if the air has gone out of the room. I hold my breath as our fingers uncurl at the same time, palms flat against each other. It’s as intimate as a kiss, standing like this, locked by our hands.

“Thank you for coming back,” I say finally. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”