SEVEN
TREI SLEPT FITFULLY, the night his cousin killed the goblin. Every time he drifted off, something pulled him back into awareness. The crackle of the fire, or a deep breath from one of his sleeping relatives. The brush of wool against his skin, or the chill of the night air. Everything in him was alert. Even though the danger was past, he wanted to be ready for something. He wanted another chance.
His mother thought he was unreasonably grouchy about the goblin—Saig was in a team of four. He’d done exceptionally well, considering he’d been alone. But Trei couldn’t help it. He’d failed, and his cousin had succeeded. What use was logic next to that?
Meanwhile, the mood in the city shifted from anxious fear to cautious optimism. Security was still focused internally—the death of the go
