Fingers of icy cold crept up Twelve’s spine. Six mouthed her name in amazement and Five stole a glance at her before squeezing her arm in solidarity. He released her quickly, as though he thought she’d pull away.

A sudden sadness gripped Twelve. That he should reach out to her now, when she was about to make him hate her again—by telling the truth.

“Starling?” Oakhammer crooned. “I’m waiting.”

Behind her Dog yelped and Twelve knew she would have to speak, maybe even tell the truth, for the first time. It would condemn her, change the way they saw her; maybe force the group to leave her behind.

But, if it saved Seven, it was worth it.

Chapter

Thirty-Three

“I came to the lodge after my family died, to train as a Hunter,” Twelve said coldly, staring into the swirling depths of the old tree’s eyes. She doubted it would satisfy Oakhammer, but it was worth a try.

“Aha,” he cried. “So close to the truth, and yet so far.” He went on sadly. “Dog seems like such a nice Guardian, but I wonder if it won’t be difficult for him with only three legs?”

“Stop!” Twelve cried. She couldn’t bear the thought of Dog being maimed—and maimed because of her. “I came after my village was slaughtered by the cave clan. I wanted to learn the skills of a Hunter.”

Oakhammer smiled darkly. “Do you want to be a Hunter?”

Twelve took a deep breath. “No.”

Five and Six shifted beside her, but Twelve didn’t look at them; she could already feel their shock and disappointment. She hardened herself against it.

“Why do you need to learn their skills, then?” Oakhammer asked.

Twelve hesitated. Oakhammer flicked his gaze over to Dog and back to her. The implication was clear.

“To avenge my family,” Twelve said, pleased her voice sounded strong, despite the hammering of her heart. She had never spoken of her plan aloud, nor had she wanted to, but Dog’s howls were so piteous she couldn’t stay silent. “The cave clan killed them. I intend to return the favor.” Twelve met Oakhammer’s eyes unblinkingly.

“I see,” Oakhammer said, feigning surprise. “A blood feud. Someone hasn’t been paying attention to their Pledge. Well, what do you think of that, Six?”

Like a searchlight, Oakhammer’s attention slid off Twelve onto Six, leaving her feeling scorched and breathless. Dreams of revenge had driven her since her family died, but speaking them out loud left her feeling strangely empty, diminished. She turned away from the sensation, not wanting to examine it more closely.

“I—I don’t know,” said Six.

“Yes, we come finally to the Boy Who Lies,” Oakhammer said softly, his pleasure evident. “I’ve saved the best for last.”

Six was very pale and ramrod straight. She hated herself as soon as she acknowledged it, but a small part of Twelve was intrigued.