His fingers curled around his knife. "Why?" he asked. "Why do you want to help me? No one wants to help me. No one listens." He wanted so badly to be able to be reassured, to trust her. But that very instinct to trust her made him suspicious; years of training had taught him to trust no one.<br/><br/>He trembled. "Get the attention of the people, you say. Things will change, you say. You're wrong." A shudder. "If I got people's attention, they would kill me. I know what I am, who I am. I am the Dark. I am the key to the archdemon. Many people would love to kill me, especially those Assassins." His grip tightened. "No. If I revealed myself, I would be hunted for the rest of my life." He looked at her through the veil of his hair. "You say you can make people listen, but fear deafens even the most reasonable of people. They won't stop to listen before attacking me. I can't hold off an entire faction on my own---not for long, anyway."