“You’d leave me defenseless.”

“You have another dagger in your belt.”

He blinked, his other hand straying to his backup blade, and tossed the emerald dagger to my side. Raw hurt and a flicker of grief crossed his face, and his shoulders slumped. “You must think little of me if you believe I could ever hurt you.” He swallowed roughly. “You must not trust me. I know you have been through a lot in your life, Kammani, but I never thought you could ever think me so callous as to harm you.”

At that, my heart tugged inside me. Picking the dagger up, I ran my fingers over the hilt, still warm from its proximity to Dagan’s body. It was heavier than it looked. He’d have only one dagger to protect him, but nothing at which he was so skilled a marksman with. I’d never seen him without this one in any kind of situation. He threw this one at targets on the outbuildings. Had killed wild lions and wolves who’d tried to get his sheep in Alu. If Nasu should retaliate for his threats, or if Higal should call the Manzazu warriors still loyal to her to attack, he’d be left without his primary way of keeping himself alive.

My gut told me to keep the dagger far, far away.

But my heart said to give it back.

“Dagan?” Trembling, I offered the dagger to him.

He glanced at the weapon in my hand as if it were a snake.

“I trust you. I swear.”

After a moment, he squatted in front of me and took it.

“Arammu.” His voice was husky, his amber eyes anguished. “What have I possibly done to make you feel so threatened?”

“It wasn’t you. It was the dream about the Boatman and—it scared me.”

I didn’t know what to believe. The strange visions from the Boatman that were difficult to interpret, or the tug of my heart. Could both be right? Could Dagan actually harm me without intending to? I couldn’t be sure, but I did know, and could feel, the earnestness radiating from Dagan as strongly as I could feel my attention being pulled toward the little red bottle of nerium that had rolled out of my grasp.

It lay in the corner of the tent, winking in the candlelight, calling to me. Maybe there really was someone out there in the darkness, saying my name, trying to help me save lives so he could escape his fate. Maybe my heart and my gut were right.

Crawling forward, I picked up the bottle, and felt inside my bones, that it was important, especially to me.

“What is that?” Dagan tucked his dagger back into his belt.

“I think it’s a tincture that is supposed to save us.”

“How?”

“I honestly do not know.” I sat with it in my hand, weighing the contents.

At once, the tent flaps were thrown back and my dearest friend in all the world stepped inside the tent, her face a little less glib than it usually was, a little less carefree. But her eyes were as fiery as ever. Maybe more so.