I’ve shown my ass. I haven’t done day labor since I was a youngster just getting out into the world on my own. It was always beneath me to spend my days swinging a pickaxe at someone else’s quarry, pulling out iron and coal to feed some other rich guy’s family, or clear-cutting a great, magnificent mountain. Blizzek knows that isn’t me.

But right now, I feel like I want to destroy something beautiful.

“I’ll go with you,” he says, “but I’m not doing any of that day laborer shit. That’s all you, bud.”

“Fine.” I throw back my beer. “How’s your lady going to take your leaving her?”

He shrugs. “It was never for keeps. I just didn’t feel that thing, you know.”

I know exactly what he means.

“Mate material,” I supply.

“Right. Nothing like that.”

I’m almost envious of him, to never have to feel what I feel now—the misery of finding that one, and then having it ripped away from you.

It’s like Blizzek can read the words right off my face. “It’s not worth it, Raz,” he says, pretending like he’s talking about himself. “All that mating shit, that’s the old way. The way our parents did things. Not the way we do.”

He’s wrong. He just hasn’t found his own other half yet.

“Sure,” I say. “Of course. Let’s go buy some train tickets, then.”

It’s the longest train trip I’ve ever taken. We pass the days playing Rampage, and I lose most of the coin I have left making bad bets. This puzzles Blizzek, too. I’m not usually such a poor player, but I keep betting everything on weak hands.

It’s like the winter doesn’t even exist this far south. When we finally step off the train, a warm wind hits me square in the face. The grasses seem to go on forever, ending at a green-blue sea. Huts dot the landscape, each with its own pasture full of sheep or cows or horses. It feels like rewinding in time.

We try to prospect, but the Southlands are a popular destination for freelancers of all kinds, and there’s not much left to find. We hike far from the sea into the hills, using Blizzek’s detector to see if we can findanything. We stumble across one thin vein of copper and even though it’s almost worthless, it’s better than nothing.

“This was a stupid trip,” Blizzek says one night, chewing on his mutton. “All because you got your heart broken, huh?”

I freeze with my food halfway to my mouth.

“Yeah,” he growls. “I knew it. I could practically smell the stink on you.” I open my mouth to explain, but he waves a hand irritably. “No, you don’t need to tell me anymore. I get it.” He wipes his hands on his pants, spreading the grease around. “You’ve basically given up.”

I suppose he’s right. Nothing seems to carry much weight now. I could wander off into the wilderness and walk until I couldn’t walk anymore, and then let a lion devour me, and it wouldn’t make a difference.

“What’s the point?” I ask. Women and money—that’s all a troll wants. Now I have neither.

“Being alive is the point.” But Blizzek isn’t going to waste his time trying to comfort me. “You could always join the war effort if you’re in the mood to die.”

This idea, more than any other, sticks to me like a burr. Even after I wave him off dismissively, saying, “I’m not going to throw my life away in somebody’s stupid political game,” I know that it’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Chapter 12

Telise

“Wait, wait. You’re telling me that not only did you fuck a troll, but he imprinted on you?” Deleran rubs his head as if this whole conversation has given him a devastating headache. “And then after your fight, you stole that from him?” He gestures at the emerald lying on the table between us.

“Yeah. I don’t really know what I was thinking. It was just there, and...” I shrug. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” That’s the only way I can explain the phantom that took over me when I stole it from Raz’jin. It’s beautiful, just like he was.

“I’m surprised you haven’t sold it yet. You could get by for a few years on the money that would bring in.”

Defensively I pick up the emerald and slide it back into my pocket. “I’m not going to sell it.”

He doesn’t seem the least bit surprised by this. “Because it reminds you of him, doesn’t it?”

I don’t answer. It would just be opening myself up to ridicule.