His jaw dropped and I clasped my knees to my chest. “Idiot,” I muttered. He hadn’t even known what he had done.

My gaze slid to my watch, then the foam-covered windows. The light outside would be growing red and sickly, the wind rising. The gargoyles might have been able to keep us safe in here at night, but as soon as the sun rose, they would be dormant. Even worse, not only was I not going to have time to do the spell, I was likely not even going to get the sample. I had a bad feeling Minias would show up the moment he was free. Come on, Jenks.

Trent’s boots scraped the decayed carpeting to show the wood underneath. “Sorry.”

Yeah. That makes it all better.

“If there’s only one trip out, I’ll try to get you back,” he said suddenly.

Surprise washed through me, almost a hurt, and I jerked my head up. “Excuse me?”

He was staring at the front door, looking as if he had a bad taste in his mouth. “We couldn’t have done this without Jenks. If Minias considers him a person, I’ll try to arrange two more trips out. If I can.”

I took a breath, having forgotten to breathe. “Why? You don’t owe us anything.”

His lips parted and closed, and he shrugged. “I want to be more than…this,” he said, gesturing to himself.

What in hell was going on?

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, glancing furtively at me and away. “If it comes to sending you home and being a hero, or being a bastard by sending myself home and saving my species, I’m going to be a bastard. But I’ll try to get you home. If I can.”

My breath came and went, and I tried to wrap my thoughts around what had changed in him. It had to be Ceri. The woman’s complete disdain for Trent was starting to get to him; she didn’t excuse his actions and saw right through his surface attempts at making up for his past—thinking the attempts made him worse, not better. Her soul was black, her past filthy with unimaginable deeds, but she carried herself with a noble strength, knowing that though she broke the law with impunity, she was loyal to those she owed allegiance to and loved. And perhaps Trent was seeing it for the first time as a strength, not a weakness.

“She’s not going to ever love you,” I said, and his eyes closed.

“I know, but someone might.”

“You’re still a murdering bastard.”

His eyes opened, a spot of green in the dusty gray surrounding us. “That’s not going to change.”