“A name.” His voice was rough, a statement and a question in one.

“Yes.” I stared at the dark sky. “But you never told me what your kind is really called, and ultimately, even if I had known, my desire to see the trolls free is too plagued by doubt to have managed the task.” I was circling around what needed to be said. But part of me was scared to put voice to what I knew. To what I had done. Because it was impossible for me to un-know it, and I was afraid he’d never come to terms with me having this much power over him.

Lowering my face, I met his gaze. “When you were taking me through the labyrinth, I had a dream – a dream that I did not remember until tonight. I was in a place of endless summer filled with creatures more colorful than any rainbow. And I met a man who made my eyes burn as though I were staring into the sun, and he gave me the name of that which I most desired.” I blinked once. “Your name.”

Shock slammed into me like a battering ram, but Tristan barely twitched. “My great-uncle told you? That’s impossible.”

I shook my head. “Clearly it isn’t.”

His jaw twitched, and in an instant, everything he felt washed over his face. But before I could react, he turned his back on me. I stared at his slumped shoulders, uncertain of what to do or what to say. He was not all right. I could see it and I could feel it, but I didn’t know what I could do to make it right. “Tristan?” I reached out to touch his back, but he only flinched away from my hand, unwilling to accept anything he perceived as pity.

“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” I said, trying logic instead. “Someone had to have named you, and it seems fitting that it would be him. And he wouldn’t have told me if he didn’t think I’d need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t have told me lightly.”

“How can you be sure of something you know nothing about?” he snapped.

I tried not to let his tone hurt, but it was hard. “If I know nothing that’s because you’ve chosen to keep me in the dark. As you so often do.”

“It’s the way I am. You’ve always known that.”

Exhaustion settled over me, turning my body and mind numb. “You’re right. I have always known it. But I never said that I’d be content with it.”

The words left a burning sensation in their wake as so often the truth does. But once they were out, I felt the relief of knowing that there was nothing more that I could say. I waited a moment to see if he would respond, and when he said nothing, I started walking home.

Normally I resented how quick to tears I was, but as I trudged down the snow-dusted walkways, with eyes dry as sawdust and my chest so tight I could scarcely breathe, I longed for the release sobbing would bring. Instead I felt every sleepless night, every missed meal, every mistake I’d made, and every hurt I’d caused. Never in my life had I felt so hopeless, and the result was that I was ill-equipped to deal with it. No matter how I racked my brain, I could not see a way through, and the realization was crippling.