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Perg nods. “Good luck.”
I offer him a weak smile and find my way out, grateful not to encounter any other trollis in need of deference.
I keep alert as I leave the infirmary. In truth, I haven’t hid solely from prying trollis, but from Grodd. That look, so full of loathing, that he gave me. I see it behind my eyelids when I turn in for the night,and I don’t want to risk crossing paths with him. Surely he’ll convince someone to battle him at the next caste tournament, and all will be well again, but until then, it’s best we stay away from one another.
Then again, I could be overthinking things. It’s been a habit I’ve struggled to break since I was a child, analyzing every movement my father made, every sound, every word, determining how he would use me next or what I’d get in trouble for. I’m likely being overly sensitive to Grodd. I had been wrong about Colson, after all. Perhaps I was also wrong about Grodd.
Remembering the way he strutted about on the bridge, and the way he beat Perg ... I have my doubts.
When I get to the market, I startle to see Colson loading up a small cart with foodstuff, as though my thoughts had summoned him. Near the head of the cart stands Ritha. I hesitate, unsure if I should approach, but Colson dusts off his hands, turns, and sees me.
The exuberance on his face shocks me to my bones.
“Lark!” He waves like he wants me to approach. Ritha notices me, and waves me forward.
I approach hesitantly, clutching the strap of my bag with both hands. When I arrive, young Etewen comes from around the cart, surprised to see me.
“Lark.Lark.” Colson reaches forward and grabs my elbows. I turn stiff as a brick. “Thank you, Lark. I—we—owe you so much.”
Confusion twists its way through me as I pull from his grasp. “What ... do you mean?” Has he realized what his fate would have been had I and Azmar not interceded on his behalf?
Colson’s grin lights up his face in an almost handsome way. He looks like an entirely new person. “Don’t you see? A Pleb can’t lead the task force.”
A sudden buoyancy fills my chest and raises me to my toes. “Grodd?”
He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “He’s been replaced with someone else, of course, but ...”
“No one hates humans more than Grodd does,” Ritha whispers. “Why do you think he beat the half troll so badly? He detests us.”
“From what we’ve heard,” Colson adds, “Tartuk isn’t cruel. We’ll be treated with more leniency.”
“That’s wonderful.” As wonderful as it can be, anyway.
“W-We’re sorry,” Etewen says, his voice barely audible. He shies behind the cart. “About what happened. Didn’t ... think it through.”
Colson dips his head at the remark, a streak of pink climbing up his neck. “I don’t know how you did it, but we’re grateful, Lark.”
“But be careful,” Ritha adds. “Don’t get uppity about the win. Keep your head down until the amusement passes.”
I hug myself. “I only want everyone to forget about it.” I’m glad the other humans aren’t here, or they’d be asking me questions I can’t answer as well.
Ritha considers this, appearing satisfied. A heartbeat later, her countenance slackens. “Step out of the way, Colson.”
I turn to see what’s alarmed her, only to spy Azmar headed our way. “Don’t worry,” I assure them. “Azmar is kind.”
If only Colson knew how kind.
Etewen glances between me and Azmar, as though uncertain if he should stay or go. When Azmar reaches us, pausing beside me, Etewen stops breathing. And honestly, I can’t blame him. Being around trollis so much, I forget how intimidating they are. I forget that Azmar’s height, the breadth of his shoulders, and the thickness of his arms easily ignites fear in our smaller species. Compared to the rest of us, he’s imposing.
“Have you been to see Perg?” His casual manner contradicts his hulking presence.
I nod. “He’s doing as well as can be expected. Do you have any spare carrots?”
He raises his brow in a remarkably human expression. “Carrots?”
“For a meal for him.”
He considers this, his lips almost frowning. “I’ll see what I can manage.”
