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“What’s a collector?” He repeated, ignoring her questions.

“They round up unprotected women for coin.”

His eyebrows rose over his eyes. “I didn’t…that’s not what I thought–” His tone carried the breath of surprise.

Tarley turned away and moved back across the space to where she’d been sitting, picking up her knife again. “Are you from Jast?”

His steps faltered behind her, which told her she was on to something, before he said, “I’d rather not say.” He paused and reached for the knife. “Here. I can do it.”

“You think I should give you my knife? Do you think I’m a fool?”

He smiled. “You, Tarley, are no fool.” He looked at himself, then sat down on the ground, removing his boots. “There. The knife for my boots. If I try to come after you, I’d have to do it without them.” He grunted as he got back to his feet, his arm wrapping around his ribs again.

“And how do you plan on carving skewers with a busted rib?”

“See. Another advantage to you. There’s no harm in letting me try.” He crouched and picked up the dropped twigs.

As he stood, she offered the handle of the knife.

He took it, the twigs under one arm, and shuffled back to his seat across the fire from her. “Tell me about the collectors.”

“I don’t know much,” she admitted. “Only what I’ve heard, since it isn’t in my best interests to get close to find out.”

“What have you heard?”

“That there are men who hunt women—runaways trying to flee to other kingdoms. Rumor has it, they’ll even abduct women with male covering, if they can get them alone.”

“And then?”

“They take them to the church convents where the collector is given a reward.”

“And the convents take them? Even if it’s fraudulent?”

She nodded.

He sighed and shook his head. “Barbaric.”

“So where are you from, Ollie?”

“The north.”

“But you aren’t a Northman?” Jast was looking more and more like the proper answer, but she couldn’t figure why he wouldn’t he admit that, not with a treaty imminent? Unless maybe he wasn’t supposed to be in Kaloma.

He shook his head. “If it’s all the same to you, I’m going to need to keep my secrets for now, Tarley.”

“Because you don’t trust me, even though I saved you?”

He smiled, sliding the knife through the wood. “No. Because I’m not sure how dangerous my secrets might be to not only myself.”

She hummed a noise, willing to accept his request. She could relate to it. “Shall we use a couple of those skewers to cook dinner? Feel like solids, Ollie? Or do you need some more watery broth?”

He grinned. “I’m willing to take my chances.”

After fish and normal conversation about why she loved the woods, and how she’d learned, she realized Ollie had gotten her to talk more about herself than anyone else she’d ever met. She’d shared about growing up in Sevens, and the lessons given all her siblings by their father.

Ollie was quiet and listened, patient and interested, peppering her with questions that kept her talking. The more he listened attentively, the more curious she became about him. She wasn’t sure she could name a man of her acquaintance who had ever been interested in her life stories. It made her want to know more about him, but she knew he wasn’t going to unlock more than he’d revealed. And for some reason, because the awareness was connected to that warm feeling traveling her spine, she was inexplicably willing to accept it.

“How about some more lore,” he said after she stood to ready the camp for bed. “I especially enjoyed your vampire story.”