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Hokzuh allows a small smile to reach his face. “In truth, not all demons have a heart, and even if they do, it could be in their foot, their head, their eyes. It’s better to aim elsewhere.”

My humor fades. “You talk as though you’re not coming with me.”

“I’ll take you as far as the Port of Kimai. From there you’ll find your sister easily.” It’s not an answer. He inclines his chin at my new blade. “Why don’t you test it out?”

“The dagger?”

“No, the oar.” Hokzuh rolls his eyes. “Obviously the dagger.” He hovers above the stern of the boat and motions for me to advance at him. “Fight me. Pretend I’m Angma.”

I twirl the dagger in my hand. “What if I hurt you?”

Hokzuh flashes his teeth and grins. “I hope that you do.”

The dragon’s smile sends an unwelcome rush of warmth to my stomach. I don’t like it, so I leap forward and make the first attack.

Our space is cramped, which makes it a tricky fight. He blocks me right away, but I expected that. I take no mercy. The first chance I get, I jab him in the groin with my knee. As he crumples, I pin him down with my full weight. I could easily take his throat next, a point I make clear by gliding the tip of my weapon across the tender part of his neck, just above the artery.

We’re a breath apart, and it’s an odd sort of intimacy: how well I know the chart of his veins, the throbbing pulse points across his body, the lean muscles cording his arms. How much I want to best him in a fight.

I purse my lips, feeling that stupid flutter in my stomach again.

Hokzuh attempts to get up, but I dig my elbow into his neck and make a show of sliding my dagger back into its sheath.

“I win,” I say.

“Do you now?” Still lying supine, Hokzuh spreads his enormous wings. He cocks his head, a mischievous glint in his blue eye. “You know if I weren’t injured, you’d be the one on your back.”

His gaze unsteadies me. I hate it. “Unclear,” I reply curtly. “You’re fast, I’ll give you that. But injured or not, your reflexes are like a slug’s. And your attacks are predictable. You rely too much on your wings.”

“Do I?” Hokzuh throws me off him with his tail, and I curse as I land on my back.

I always forget about the damned tail.

“At least I don’t hesitate before I act. As you do”—he seizes my mask—“especially when you wear this.”

My hair falls in a dark cascade over my eyes. “Give it back.”

“Why? If people want to be afraid of your face, let them be. Why should you be the one who’s afraid?”

“Give it here!”

“No!” Hokzuh holds my mask out of reach. “You’re a monster to them. That will never change, no matter how thick your mask is.”

I pick up my spear and lunge at him, but the attack is sloppy and impulsive.

Hokzuh checks it easily. He blocks my spear with his arm. Only a blink of his mismatched eyes warns me in advance of his tail whipping at my ankles again, sending me reeling back.

In seconds, he’s the one pinning me down, armed with a complacent grin.

“I always forget about your stupid tail,” I mumble.

“You forget because you’re distracted.” Hokzuh crouches until his breath is on my ear. “Gods, Channari. I’ve never met anyone as fixated as you are on one person.”

“Angma is—”

“I’m not talking about Angma,” he interrupts. “I’m talking about your sister. Vanna is your weakness. She holds you back from your true potential. Would she fight for you the way you fight for her?”

A retort dies on my lips. It’s a question I’ve wondered before, and I’m unsettled that I cannot say yes.