"It is not my fault!" shrieks Rashad, turning on her.

"Calmly," says the chameleon into his ear, and he presses his lips together as his breath comes more rapidly, too rapidly and he raises his hands as if to shield himself from her words before turning further and pacing off in the other direction. "Who would share with us willingly?" Janan asks Iman. "What mortal would accept what we are? We take when we can control what we take, lest we lose that control. That is the choice available to us."

Rashad groans and curls his fists into his hair. "It is not, it is not," he moans, and Janan curls tighter against his neck, shushing him.