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“I had a feeling you were involved with the leckers’ attack.” Qequan’s words carry practiced precision.Leckerswere the monsters that attacked Cagmar. “You did prove my judgment to these.” He jerks his thumb to the other council members, who take the thin scolding with silence. “I was right about you. And in truth, Grodd could stand to be takendown a few pegs. Mayhap notallof them”—he grimaces—“but a few. Give him a couple years and he’ll climb his way back up, if he’s strong enough.” He laughs. It’s a rich sound that echoes off the walls of the council room, making it sound as though there are four of him.
Something about that phrasing,strong enough, sickens me.
“But, Lark.” The stringent use of my name cuts through his joviality. “If youeveruse your gift against one of my people again, I’ll throw you into the canyon myself.”
True fear bursts through the soles of my feet and roots me to the spot. It crusts over my joints and constricts my lungs. No humor glimmers in Qequan’s eyes. The council looks at me with a familiar disdain, disdain I’ve seen in countless faces, whenever my secret has come to light, all throughout my life.
“B-But you will let me stay?” Were it not for the amplification of the walls, the council might not have heard my weak voice.
Qequan tips his head, and my legs nearly give beneath me. “For the leckers. But my words are a promise.”
I drop to my knees and prostrate myself before them. “Thank you for your mercy. I will obey. It will not happen again.”
With my nose pressed to the fur rug, I don’t see what Qequan or any of the council members do. But Agga says, “Take your leave,” and I scramble to my feet, my heart pounding, my head dizzy, and hurry to the doors. Trollis guards open them. When they shut behind me, I bend over, taking in air like I’ve been underwater the entire time.
Azmar and Unach appear at my side.
“Lark?” Azmar asks.
Unach says, “What happened?”
Once I catch my breath, I answer, “They’re letting me stay.”
Unach lets out a long breath. “And? What did you tell him? About the tournament?”
Tension warps my spine. “The same thing I told you.”
Unach blanches. “You gave those excuses to thecouncil?”
I whirl on her, fear igniting to anger beneath my skin. “The truth doesn’t change when a different person asks.” But it’s a lie. It’s all a lie. I know exactly what I did, and so do they.
And I can never,everdo it again. I have nowhere else to go.
Azmar steps between us, one hand on his sister’s arm, the other on my shoulder. “Leave her be. We must accept that she doesn’t know.”
“How can she not know?” Unach protests, even as Azmar guides her toward the exit. “Why would she run into a battle like that without knowing she would win?”
Azmar’s eyes narrow. “Do you know you’ll win, every time you plunge into the canyon to face the creatures below?”
Unach works her jaw. Looks away and kicks open the door, storming out ahead of us.
A stale breath passes my lips. “Thank you, Azmar.”
He nods, though I sense his own discontent with my answer. But that answer is all I can give. If I’m to stay in Cagmar, I must forget my fear, slough it off like snakeskin and become a new Lark. The thought is both liberating and terrifying.
I suddenly want Perg’s knife, but I should get rid of it. I must do nothing to tarnish my name further. I must become a perfect human.
Azmar lets me walk down the stairs first. The council chamber sits higher than the market, so we have a good view of it as we start down the hill. A small group of trollis loiters near the food handlers, jeering and calling names, occasionally kicking or slapping someone amidst them. It reminds me too much of Perg, but Perg is in the infirmary. Thinking of Ritha and the others, I quicken my step.
One of the trollis shifts, and I see it’s not a human they torment, but Grodd. He wears the common clothes of a Pleb, and his disheveled hair speaks of ill treatment. He scowls at one of his assailants and raises a hand as though to strike back.
A trollis behind him batters a fist into Grodd’s skull. “Raise your hand to your betters,Pleb? I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon for that.”
The others laugh. Unach watches, too, her face grim. “How easily the iron bar bends,” she murmurs. I wonder if that’s a trollis idiom.
Before I can wrench my gaze free to follow Azmar, Grodd looks up and meets it. In his vivid green eyes, I see hatred deeper than any I’ve ever encountered. Hatred sharp enough to steal my breath away.
He knows, more than anyone, that I’m hiding something.
