Lucian had seen these faces before. Not the specific people, but their expressions. Up in the northern peninsula, he had killed many like these. They had looked afraid, perplexed, angry, wary: all correct responses to the soldiers’ appearance. Lucian had watched grown men flee from him in terror. He would be damned if he gave these islanders reason to fear him, too.

“Emilia. Take out your sword and spear and toss them to the ground,” he said calmly. The Aurun girl remained squatting before the altar, blinking at the arrow in front of her face. “Show them you mean no harm.”

“Oh. Yes.” Emilia fumbled at her belt, wincing as she drew her blade. Lucian listened to a bowstring tauten; his heart trammeled in his chest. It would be just if he met his end this way, but Emilia was innocent.

She tossed her weapons to the earth, then waited.

Slowly, the islanders relaxed their bows and spears. Birdsong struck up in the trees once more. Though the tension had eased, the men and women still watched them carefully.

“Lucian, let’s try something. Follow my lead.” Emilia dipped her head and spoke. “Eyah shosh,” she said, then widened her eyes at him. Lucian copied her, hoping he didn’t stumble over the pronunciation.

The fear around them dissipated like smoke. The people smiled now and returned the greeting. Lucian exhaled deeply and gazed at Emilia. Color bloomed in her cheeks. She perked up, even laughed. It was a rough sound, but strangely musical as well.

“I was correct!” She appeared delighted with herself.

Lucian grinned. “How did you know that?”

“I’ve, er, studied the Crotian territories for years now. It’s a formal greeting, but meant to convey goodwill.” She bobbed her head in gratitude when one of the women offered her a water skin. Emilia drank. “The Crotians are an offshoot of the Hellini people. These islands contain the last of them.” Lucian knew of the Hellini vaguely; they had been considered a great ancient civilization, before the rise of the empire. As a boy, he’d been instructed in some of their philosophies and poetry, but in truth he’d forgotten much of it.

“Can you ask them about the altars? About the basilisk?”

She shook her head, red hair swaying. “I know only a few words, and even then I’m not sure about pronunciation. Listen.”

Two of the people began to speak to each other, the language unfamiliar and rich with rolling r’s and hushed s’s. Beautiful, but Lucian could not understand. On impulse, he opened his satchel and took out some bread. He offered it to the woman seated beside him. She accepted with hesitation, so Lucian tore a piece and popped it into his mouth to show it was harmless. The golden-haired girl beamed and began to divide the bread into shares. Within seconds, the group’s mood had transformed into solid welcome.

This gathering had the atmosphere of a party now, but Lucian found that his mind trailed back to those charred figures seated on his bed…

The bread stuck in his throat. He glanced at the spear lying by a man’s side.

The man noticed and gave it to Lucian to inspect. Turning it in his hands, he marveled at the craftsmanship. The carvings along the length were ornately beautiful flourishes of stars and ocean waves, a true masterpiece. Lucian whistled, handing it back.

“Impressive,” he said. It was a relief, really, to see a people living with their own language, their own customs. Even if they had to survive under a blighted basilisk’s eye…

“Oh, thank you!” Emilia cried. They’d given her a small leather flask. Lucian reached for it.

“Alcohol?”

“No, don’t touch it.” She lightly whacked his hand away. Well, if she wanted to keep it all to herself…“It’s basilisk tears. You can smell.” She unstoppered the flask and let him take a sniff. Lucian’s eyes watered; it was like vinegar, and rotten eggs underneath.

“Um. Nice,” he said, coughing.

“These are incredibly valuable.” She plugged up the flask again and slipped it into her satchel. “They’re the only known antidote against a basilisk’s gaze. If the creature meets your eye, these will save your life.”

“Thank you,” Lucian said, gazing at the people seated around him. “Can we drink it now, as a precaution?”

“Definitely not. Basilisk tears are their own kind of poison. If you drink them without being envenomed first, they’ll kill you.”

“So I should be careful when hunting through your satchel for water, then.”

Emilia laughed and then listened intently as one of the people began to speak to her. He was a boy, really, no more than ten or eleven years old. The child waved his arms about in excitement, repeating a word over and over as Emilia frowned and strained to understand. As she listened to the child, she absently twirled a bit of red hair around and around her little finger. A smile stole over Lucian; she seemed to know just about everything.

To think he’d come here to protect her.

“Oh, I got something.” Her eyes brightened. The worn, weary look she’d sported yesterday had begun to vanish. Lucian drew nearer.

“What?”

“That word—felash. It’s a bit ancient and formal, but I think it means ‘guardian.’ ” She frowned. “That’s…interesting.”

“You say that like it’s bad.”

“I was thinking about the altar. If it had been meant to ward off the basilisk as evil, it would have borne the crown of the sea king, but the two eggs symbolize something sacred. Now this word, guardian. It could mean—” Emilia pressed a finger to her lips, her brow furrowing. “They’re not feeding the basilisk to keep it away from them. They’re honoring it as a sacred protector.”

“Why would they do that?” Lucian felt a cold lump forming in his stomach.

“Well, think about it.” She met his eyes. “Their practiced culture has become endangered. The empire often assimilates those territories it takes. If the basilisk keeps people away—”

“Then it keeps the empire out.”

Lucian imagined this place with the basilisk gone. The island had no rich resources, but that might not be enough to stop expansion. Crotian territory fell under Pentri rule, and they had a reputation for being like a large fish, swallowing everything smaller in its path. Maybe the soldiers wouldn’t come at once, but they would come. And when they came, they would not bring mercy.

Lucian bolted to his feet. The islanders regarded him warily, and Emilia blinked in surprise.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to stop this,” he said. He ran away, unthinking as he broke through branches. Emilia’s cries soon died behind him. He wasn’t worried about her now. She’d be safe with the people.

But the people would not be safe so long as Hyperia stalked their lone guardian. Teeth gritted, Lucian raced through the forest and prayed to the blue above that he was not too late.