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No trolls,Tayler said. Do I risk that trust? I give the safest, truest answer I can. “I hope so.”

Azmar picks up the lamp, and we start back for Cagmar. We’re nearly to the edge of the forest when he says, “Do you wish to leave?”

I glance up at him, but he faces straight ahead. “Leave Cagmar?”

He gives a nearly imperceptible nod.

Would I leave, if Tayler invited me to his township? I’m not sure. But the choice, for now, is easy. “No. Other than Grodd ... I’m content there.”

“Only content?”

I step over a raised root, drawing closer to him as I do so. “Yes. With you, and with Unach and Perg.” Encouraged, I ask, “Why, worried I’ll run off with a fifteen-year-old boy?”

He doesn’t respond. His guard is up, and in the poor light, I can’t read his expression. I may have overstepped my bounds. It’s easy to forget myself when we’re alone. I wonder if I should apologize, but that would be to acknowledge the overstepping, to highlight it, and the thought makes me curl in on myself.

Another thought presses into my mind.I promised.To tell Azmar, that is. That was the bargain. And yet when I open my mouth to explain, no sound emerges. My own fear clogs it. Azmar is different, yes, but I’ve met plenty of kind souls who couldn’t endure my truth. Outside of the council, which forced my hand, I’ve never willingly offered up my secret. First, because my father threatened all manner of suffering if I did—he couldn’t let others know the secret of his influence. And second, because it has always been the reason, one way or another, that my chances of a new home and a new family have broken apart.

If Azmar rejects me now, if I become just another casteless human wandering Cagmar in between work shifts, with no enclave to take me in and no trollis to speak to, I’ll wither away to nothing. I know I will. I’ve allowed too much hope to take root.

The stars warned me that my path would be a hard one, but if this turn proves too sharp, I might not have the strength to keep going.

The lamp swings between us. We walk in silence for about twenty paces, thirty. The sun has set, but the quiet burns hot and sticky. My tongue seems to swell in my mouth, forbidding me speech.

I draw in a long, slow breath. I trust Azmar. Truly, I do. And he trusts me. He’s shown me as much tonight. I rub the clammy skin of my palms together. My breath shakes. My pulse sputters. Strange how my own true fear discomforts me so much more than the fear I project. I can’t control or temper it, can’t turn it off. I must simply push through.

So I suck in another breath and push it out all at once, forcing my voice. “I have an ability to project fear into others.”

His gait slows. “What?”

“What I did with Grodd, and what I do with the monsters.” I look up ahead, though in the darkness, I can’t see anything beyond the light of the lamp. “I’ve had it since I was a child. Since I was born. Ritha thinks it transferred from my mother. That’s why my father found me valuable. I helped him intimidate those who had what he wanted, or who complained about his power. It’s why I haven’t been accepted in other townships. Somehow I always end up using it, in self-defense or otherwise, and everyone thinks I’m a witch. We’re very superstitious, we humans.”

I try to make the confession light, but inside my organs coalesce into a tight iron ball. I can scarcely breathe as I wait for Azmar’s response. Will he take this in stride, as the council did? Will he sayI knew it!and strike me down? Will he distance himself from me once we return, leaving me to my servitude and nothing more?

“The monster that broke through the wall,” he says.

I swallow. “Yes. I’m still a poor shot with the sling.”

He considers, and I allow him time to think, but each passing second kills me, making that iron ball a little bigger, a little harder. My feet drag in the dust.

“I’ve never told anyone,” I whisper. “Except ... the council. I had to, to stay.”

Azmar shifts the lamp to his other hand so that it no longer sways between us. “I’ve heard of a similar thing, with a trollis who lived seventy years ago,” he murmurs. “He was renowned for leading troops because he could effortlessly inspire bloodlust in them.”

“Bloodlust,” I repeat, croaking. “Fear. But there are more pleasant things one could be cursed with.”

“It’s not a curse,” Azmar says, and the iron ball stops rolling. “You saved us that day. And you saved Perg when no one else would take a stance, myself included.”

Tears blur my vision, and I blink them away. “Thank you for saying that.”

He nods.

“Please don’t tell Unach. Or anyone else. I don’t know how the council will react. They’ve been very clear that I’m not supposed to use it, outside of the dock. Grodd already suspects—”

“You have my word.”

I stop, and after a pace, he notices and stops as well. Turns toward me.

“Just like that?” I ask, my voice shaking. “I tell you I’m a creature who terrifies even monsters, and you accept it, just like that?”