“Child-words. All right.” I breathe in. “The first part is all concentration, all up to you. But it won’t be enough to make you Weep. You have to be cut with a white mercury sword first.”

“White mercury?” it rumbles. “Cut?”

“The humans invented this substance—white mercury. It can weaken magic. If we cut you with it, the voice gets out of control. Louder. But at the same time, if you concentrate, your silence can be louder than it. You control the voice instead of it controlling you. That’s Weeping.”

“Weeping.” The valkerax’s voice echoes from all directions, accompanied by the sound of it slithering in a circle around me. “Weeping is to control the song? Weeping is the three moons before the tide?”

“Yes. At least I think it is. I’ve done it only once.”

The valkerax suddenly lets out a harsh, barking sound that scares the skin off my bones. Was that a…laugh?

“Only once. Once, the little wolf has howled at the moon,” it says. “Wolves do not lie, but your mouth drips with tar. We will kill you for bringing us hope.”

My body jerks, attempting defensiveness even if it’s useless against such a huge creature. “I-I can teach you. I know how—”

“Death for the wolf is pointless. We will give death to the warmblood instead.”

All the breath pushes out of me at once.

“Yorl!” I shriek. “Run!”

Godsdamn my useless eyes—I can’t see anything. All I can hear is the frantic rush of scales and footsteps over dirt.

useless. The hunger laughs.

The hunger. The hunger knows heat and scents better than I do. I delve deep into it. It’s held far down inside me by Varia’s magic, but I reach in and pull up the barest threatening, taunting threads of it, letting it bash against my brain.

pathetic little girl, can’t lie when she needs to, can’t be honest when it counts. what good are you? how could you teach someone else to Weep when you don’t know yourself?

a liar is what you are—

Varia’s holding the hunger back with her magic, strong and ironclad. But I know the hunger now. I know it loud, and I know it soft. I know it chaotic, and I know it orderly. I focused for these three long years on holding it back, holding it in, but I know now. I know how to bring it forward.

My teeth grow sharp edges—not long like a full hunger but just enough. The darkness of the arena becomes distinct spots of warmth and coldness, the air suddenly sharp with the musk of alive things: sweat, blood, spittle. A huge, warm body lunges for something much smaller and running at its full, desperate speed.

The valkerax, chasing Yorl.