I pointed the hushflower-stained knife at him. “One day you’ll thank me.” “Me, thank a Noavek? Never.” It was supposed to be a joke, but it was also a reminder. I was a Noavek, and he was a Kereseth. I was nobility, and he was a captive. Whatever ease we found together was built on ignoring the facts. Both our smiles faded, and we returned to our respective tasks in silence.
