He regards me a long time, making me self-conscious. “You’re different, Lark.” He matches my tone. “Not because you’re human. The way you speak, act, move—it’s everything Cagmar isn’t.” I smile. “Hard and purposeful and full of joists?” His lip quirks. “Purposeful, yes. But graceful, compassionate.” His gaze shifts to the candle. “Like that flame.” “Easily extinguished.” I touch my neck, remembering the press of Grodd’s fingertips. Azmar moves toward me. Touching the other side of my neck, he grazes my jaw with a knuckle. “No one will extinguish you, Lark. Not so long as I draw breath.”
