I pull the handle and step inside. Unach sits at the tall table near her bedroom door. She rubs her temples and glances up at me.
“Oh, I forgot about you. The request got approved. You’re welcome.”
I let out a long breath. I now have a lock on my door and legal protection. “Would you like me to tidy up?” I ask not only to fill my new role, but in hopes of cheering her up as well.
Unach waves a hand. “Go to sleep. I’ll have plenty for you to do in the morning.”
I think of my dark chamber, of Grodd’s slinking shadow. But I’m safe. I’ll even run through the market screaming that I’m protected by a Montra, to make sure Grodd knows it, too. And if he comes anyway, I think I could scream loud enough for it to carry through the walls to this apartment. At least my neighbors would hear . . .
As I turn for the door, I notice Azmar’s bedroom door ajar. It’s dark within. He always sleeps with his door shut. “Where is Azmar?”
“Hell if I know,” Unach grumbles. “Probably knocking down a pillar somewhere.”
I hesitate, peering into Azmar’s room. I think of Kesta and frown.
Unach’s chair pushes back, and her tired countenance suddenly morphs into suspicion. “What were you and Azmar doing? You came here together.”
I flush. “I assisted him in Engineering.” Unach knows this.
“And got back later than usual.” She looks me up and down, and I try not to cow beneath her gaze.
“He helped me with some purchases. I’ve been . . . concerned about Grodd.”
She doesn’t hear my words, and her voice takes on a chill. “Are you in love with my brother?”
My heart slams into my ankles, and I step back. “I . . . What? Of course not!”
Unach closes in on me. “I’ve seen you moon-eyed with him. Flushed and eager to please—”
“U-Unach.” I hold up both hands and scramble for an excuse, landing on the first one she’ll believe. I try to smile, like it’s all a joke. “Y-You’re mistaken. Humans don’t show affection the way trollis do. I’ve been here long enough to know. I’m just trying to be a good . . . servant.”
Unach cocks her head to one side, considering this. If I have any upper hand with her, it’s that I understand trollis far better than she understands humans. She’s never lived among my kind.
To hammer in the nail, I add, “No offense, Unach, but he’s . . . trollis.”
The suspicion leaks out of her immediately. Of course humans are bizarre. Of course one would never be interested in a trollis! This is something she understands completely. And while that fact settles my fear, it also cracks my hope.
I’m not human, Azmar said. It was likely less a declaration than a response to my “moon eyes,” putting me in my place.
And yet.
Unach is not one for apologies, so she merely waves her hand in my direction, as though swatting at a fly. “You can go.”
I exit before she can question me further.
Somehow the shadows have intensified in the long corridor outside. I wonder at Grodd, at Azmar’s claim that someone came to my door last night. I have not seen Grodd today, thankfully. Perhaps he’s lying low. Perhaps his labors as a Pleb have kept him busy.
But I worry about Azmar. I didn’t hear his entire conversation with Unach, but I know he took the full brunt of her anger. Knocking down a pillar somewhere. I’ve never witnessed Cagmar’s engineers demolish anything, only make plans for it.
Then I remember the pillars in the military training rooms, and before I realize what I’m doing, I’m in the lift and heading that way.
I scan the shadows as I enter the market, the faces of the night workers now familiar to me. For a terrifying instant, I think I see Grodd, but the trollis turns toward a lamp, and it’s the blacksmith. Sucking in air to calm my heart, I hurry down the corridors toward military training, where no humans are supposed to be.
As before, with Perg, I meet little resistance. At the first chamber, I crack the door open to peek inside. Two very tired, very sweaty trollis linger in the far corner with wooden staffs, comparing stances. A female trollis walks on the bridge overhead. In the opposite corner, I spy Azmar at a great punching bag, his knuckles blue with abuse. Sweat dampens his shirt, trailing from his chest to his waist. Though he’s a modest one—the other trollis are shirtless—the sight of him lights something deep in my core, and the desire to touch him inundates me.
Feeling daring, I slip inside and hug the wall, moving toward him. He throws another fist into the column, then wipes his forehead with his forearm. He spies me as I near him. His guard is down, leaving the surprise clear on his face.
“Lark,” he says between breaths.
One of the other trollis turns our way. “No humans in training!”
“Crave off!” Azmar barks, and the trollis frowns and turns away. I don’t understand the idiom, but I can imagine what it means. Those trollis must be lower caste, for Azmar to speak to them so. And he must be angry; I’ve never heard him yell.
Taking the defense as permission, I draw closer and lean against the padded pillar. “Are you all right?”
He lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes his face, and I chide myself for admiring his torso as he does so. Not enough shows to reveal his scar, but I note the dark hair flowing down from his navel, and that space deep within me ignites anew.
I avert my eyes as he says, “I’m well.”
“Unach can be fierce.”
He chuckles and drops his shirt. “You say it like it’s something she ever stops doing.”
I hug myself against the chill. “I didn’t know you knew Kesta.”
He must be too tired to school himself, for his features open in what looks like . . . guilt? “She is close to Unach.” He runs the pad of his thumb over the bony nubs of his jaw. I want to ask about the bloodstone, but I don’t want to reveal just how long I’d been eavesdropping. Watching the other trollis, who seem to have forgotten about us, I push off the pillar and step closer to him. He looks down at me, so close yet so distant, his eyes warm as honey.
“I need to go to the surface tomorrow,” I whisper.
His brow lowers. “Why?”
“To rendezvous with the human boy we caught. From the spying band.” His expression hardens, and I rush to add, “Just for information. He’s very secretive about his township. Azmar, there’s a half trollis like Perg there.”
His brow releases, and he looks away in thought.
“I can’t go alone.” My pulse races as I gather courage, and I reach for Azmar’s hand, clasping it in mine. His gaze immediately falls to our entwined fingers.
“If you take me . . .” I’m so quiet I can barely hear myself. “I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
His eyes widen. He studies me, and I try not to flush under the scrutiny. One breath, two, and his hand tightens around mine.
“I’ll take you.”
Chapter 17