“Why that name?”

“Partly because I was born with it, though it used to look a lot different. It’s grown as I’ve aged.”

“It changed by itself?”

“Yes.” The way he said it made it sound like he didn’t want to explain.

His hesitance only made her more curious. “What’s it for?”

“A reminder.”

“Of?”

“The passage of time. How precious every day is. My duty to use each one of those days to fulfill my vows.”

“What vows?”

“You certainly are full of questions.”

“It’s going to take us a while to get back to where I saw the trail. We have to pass the time somehow.”

“Not a fan of silence?” he asked.

“It has its place. So do questions. What vows do your lifemark remind you to fulfill?”

“To protect humans and guard the Gate to Athanasia.”

“That’s where Brenya came from. And the women who come here to have their children.”

She pushed past a low branch, holding it aside for him to pass. His big hand brushed hers as he took over the job, and she could have sworn she could feel that single accidental touch all the way up her arm.

“Why do they come here to have their children?” he asked.

“They’re special babies—ones who would be killed if the women were to have them at home.”

“How are they special?” he asked.

“I don’t know for sure. I hear things, but Brenya isn’t exactly the type of person who explains her actions. All I know is that these women are trying to help fight a war the only way they can. Time goes faster here than on Athanasia, so they’re only gone for a few days—a short enough time that the Solarc won’t discover them missing.”

“Brenya will explain it to me,” he said, determination hardening his tone.

Grace stifled a chuckle. “I don’t know what makes you think that, but good luck getting her to talk.”

“She doesn’t get to make unilateral decisions like that. There are lives at stake, both Sentinels and humans.”

It was obvious that Torr didn’t know Brenya at all, but some people had to learn everything the hard way. “I’ve never met another human. At least not that I can remember. Are they all as weak as me?”

He took a long step and came up beside her, lifting low-hanging branches out of her way. “What makes you think you’re weak?”

“Everything. Even the children here can outrun me, are stronger than me, and can go longer without food or rest. At first I thought it was because I’d been so sick, but Brenya said that’s just the way I’m made.” It had taken her a long time to get over the sting caused by that unintentional insult. “I’m not allowed to patrol at night. No one wants to spar with me. They’re all kind about it, but I know they all think I’m a weakling and that they’ll hurt me.”

“Humans aren’t weak,” he said. “Neither are you.”

“I have proof to the contrary. And based on your response, I’m guessing that we are weak and you’re just being nice, too.”

“There are different kinds of strength. You have an adaptable nature that makes you nearly invincible. Your capacity for compassion is its own kind of magic. And you have a quiet force of will that rivals any I’ve ever seen.”

“You say that like you know me.”

He looked away and fell back in line behind her. “I know humans. And Brenya wouldn’t have brought you here and saved your life if you weren’t an exceptional one.”

Something about that didn’t seem right, but they were nearly at the clearing where she’d spotted the Hunters.

She slowed and lifted her finger to her lips to indicate the need to be quiet. They crept along, skirting the edge of the clearing where herbs grew, until she saw a mark in the dirt.

Grace leaned toward him, going up on tiptoe to get as close to his ear as she could. “A Hunter left this mark.” She pointed to the print in the loose soil. The imprint was deep and jagged, showing where the bottom of the creature’s foot had sharp protrusions.

A line led through the brush as if it had been cut by a sharp blade. Leaves and branches were severed cleanly, and as she leaned to change her line of sight, she could see exactly the way they’d gone.

“They went that way,” she said, pointing.

Torr nodded. He drew a sword that had been invisible only seconds ago. The sudden appearance of the weapon surprised her, forcing her back a few steps.

He noticed her distress and lowered the blade away from her. Orange sky was reflected in the polished surface and winked off of an intricate netting of silver vines that formed the hilt and crossguard.

His knuckles bulged with his tight grip. His skin shifted over bone and muscles along his forearms. The need to feel that masculine power flow through his limbs—to touch it with her fingertips—was almost unbearable.

Grace wasn’t like the other girls in the village who chattered and cooed over wanting to stroke him. She had better things to think about than that. Sadly, she couldn’t remember a single one of them right now. Instead, all she could focus on was the subtle warming of her skin and the way her clothes suddenly felt too tight for her to breathe.

“I’ll take you to the village, then come back and follow the trail,” he whispered close to her ear—close enough that she could feel the warmth of his words as they passed.

She stifled a shiver. “No. It will take too much time.”

“You can’t go back alone. It’s not safe.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to stay with you.”

He scowled at that and opened his mouth to argue with her, but a soft rustling came from the south.

Before she could even register that there was danger, Torr shifted his body so that he was between her and the sound. With his free hand, he held her behind him, silently ordering her to stay put.

The rustling grew louder, closer. Grace’s heart started pounding hard enough that she was sure it would bruise her ribs.

These Hunters hadn’t seen her before. She’d stayed silent and they’d slipped by, parting the low brush as they passed. All she’d seen was a jagged series of shiny black ridges peeking over the foliage, glittering with filtered sunlight.