Beneath the breakfast table, my hands played with the vial Spartan had given me in the Sacred Grove, stroking the glass with my gloved thumb, rolling it back and forth, back and forth.

Taste and see. I hadn’t yet had the courage. What would I see? A nightingale? A scene from the world-that-was? The alter that had not entered my dreams since the night we’d fled the Mysterium?

“There’s a festival,” my mother said placidly. I looked up in time to see her exchange a glance with my father. “The necklace you wear has the flowers that are so special to our people. They are called snow blossoms, but they flower at the beginning of spring. We have an annual festival where we celebrate the end of winter. I thought it would be a good time to introduce you to our neighbors.”

I stared at her. It was the longest speech she’d given so far. She referred to my necklace as the one I wore, rather than the one they’d given me, but it was a start. And at least she remembered to speak in the common tongue, since I knew only a little Lethean. My father tended to ramble in their native language without realizing that I didn’t understand him, and once Brinsley discovered that I couldn’t speak their language, he’d begun addressing our parents in Lethean whenever he could.

Many times, I wished for more of Dorian’s lessons. But, if I were honest with myself, I wished for Dorian himself. It had been four days since he’d brought me my things and I’d hidden from him rather than say goodbye. Cass was good company, but he had been distracted ever since we’d come to Nyx, and I rarely saw him outside of mealtimes. I tried to believe that he was only lying low because he feared discovery by the Mariantheans who’d come to Nyx, but when I considered his history, I wondered.

This morning, when I’d come down to breakfast, I’d learned he’d apparently left early to run an errand. At least Brinsley was absent as well.

Realizing I hadn’t answered my mother, I quickly pocketed the vial and nodded. “That would be nice. Thank you. When is the festival?”

“Tomorrow night,” my mother replied as she stood, gathering the empty plates into a neat stack. “We should be able to find something pretty for you to wear in the wardrobe upstairs.” She gave me a brief smile before leaving me alone with my father, who shuffled the papers he was reading and pretended to look engrossed.

The pang of loneliness became a dull ache. My parents had done their utmost to meet my every physical need, but I knew that they were avoiding me. And why not? I was just as much a stranger to them as they were to me. I tried to imagine what it would feel like to discover, one day, that there was a child you had forgotten you had. And not just because you had fallen and bumped your head, or because your mind had successfully processed the terrible grief after so many years, but because, over a series of moments, you had chosen to forget, piece by piece, memory by memory. Because you had made a choice that it was better not to remember at all than to be tortured by the knowledge of having had something so very precious . . . and then had lost it.

At that, I thought of Dorian again. Would he come to the festival, or would he be too busy saving Caldera along with Lady Xia? Perhaps he had even found another mem by now. If that were the case, he had no reason to seek me out again. And I no longer needed the Reliquary to uncover my past—not now that I’d found my family. The only thing that still tethered us was his promise to free me and to find an alter who could remove the poison from my skin.

Why would he help you when you refused to help him? He doesn’t love you. He hasn’t even visited you. Why would he care if you live or die?

I thought of Jewel, sleeping upstairs on my bed. The wolf was Dorian’s closest companion, and he’d given her to me, to keep me safe. Why would he do that if he didn’t care at all? I knew how much he loved her.

But a voice arose from my memories. When the time comes, you have only to call for me, and I will come to you . . .

It wasn’t Dorian’s voice. It was the man from my dream. He’d turned night to day and back again with me looking on. He’d promised his help, as if he knew I would have future need of it. Almost as if he knew I’d been poisoned . . .

I was confused by it all. It felt like a dream, and I’d woken to reality soon enough. A reality where I was alone in Nyx, and mysterious figures did not offer their help to strangers.

But it felt so real.

I shook myself. Even if it had been real, how could I return to the Garden when I had done naught to stop Dorian from stealing the Reliquary? The Three would never welcome the accomplice of a thief.

The door opened and Brinsley strode in. He glanced between our father and me.

“Persephone? Can I have a word?”

I hastily pushed back from the table and stood, knocking my chair over in the process. I righted it again as Brinsley smiled condescendingly.

“Only if you’re finished your breakfast.”

“I’m finished.”

My mother appeared in the doorway, wiping soap suds from her fingers with a dry towel. “You could take her to see the snow blossoms outside the city, Brin. They should be flowering now.”

Brinsley raised his eyebrows, but nodded. “Of course, Dam.”

“Wait,” I said. “I’ll bring Jewel along. She’d appreciate a walk.” She would, of course, but the real reason for taking her along was that I didn’t want to be alone with only Brinsley to defend us. He might be armed and handy with a knife, but if we encountered Ignis outside Nyx—

“Of course,” Brinsley said again, almost too smoothly, and I hurried upstairs and found Jewel still lying on my bed. She looked up when I entered.

“Feel like a stroll?”

Jewel tilted her shaggy white head, as if considering the offer, then stretched her legs and bounded to the floor in one graceful movement. She allowed me to pat her before following me down the stairs, not even pausing when she saw Brinsley waiting for us. Though I suspected she didn’t exactly like him, she hadn’t ever growled in his presence. That was something, at least. Perhaps there was hope for my brother and me after all.

“So,” said Brinsley as we walked through the streets of Nyx, Jewel trotting behind us, “how are you settling in?”

His tone wasn’t warm, but neither was it unpleasant. Maybe he’d had time to adjust to my presence. Maybe he’d forgiven me and wanted to be friends.

“Well, I think,” I replied, doing my best to keep up with his long strides. Several people looked at us as we passed, quickly glancing away when I intercepted their gaze.

Fear. Of Brinsley or of me?

I hastily continued, “But I know my reappearance is a shock for everyone. I imagine it will take some getting used to.”

“Aye,” my brother agreed.

“Brin—can I call you Brin?”

He nodded curtly.

“You’ve probably realized by now that I’m a mem.”

He eyed my gloves, but he did not speak.

“Well, when a mem performs the mind-bleeding, it leaves behind a cavity, an imprint of the memory that’s been taken. Eventually, the mind recovers, and the memory returns. Over time, with repeated mind-bleedings, pieces or fragments get lost. Sometimes the memory is corrupted altogether. But there’s always something of the original memory that remains. One always has an inkling of what’s missing, like a pulled tooth that leaves behind a hollow. A memory shadow, we call it.”

“That’s very interesting, Persephone, but I fail to see how—”

“Our parents,” I said. “Are you sure they don’t remember anything about me? Anything at all?”

He slowed. “I don’t believe so.”

“You’re several years older than I am. Perhaps they had a favorite memory of the four of us, a time they cherished . . .”

He had no time to answer, because we had entered the marketplace and were suddenly surrounded by people. Someone shoved against my shoulder, and I grabbed Brinsley’s arm to steady myself. At the same time, a woman scowled at me from several paces away, her eyes flicking down to my gloves.

“Lifetaker,” she muttered, and I felt the blood drain from my face. I was grateful when Brinsley quickened our pace, and Jewel came alongside me. As soon as they saw the wolf, the townspeople gave us a wide berth.

So it was me they feared, not Brinsley. He was silent as we passed through the city gates. Lifetaker. Not a bad word, I had to admit, considering what mems did in the mind-bleeding. Though soultaker was probably more accurate.

“In answer to your question,” Brinsley declared as we skirted the city walls, Jewel sniffing the trail ahead of us, “there isn’t anything left. Not that I’m aware of.” He grimaced. “The mems did their work too well.”

My subsequent disappointment at this final statement was swallowed up by my very first sighting of the snow blossom trees. As large as ordinary trees, but covered with flowers, they made for a stunning vista, especially since half the trees were completely white, and the other half a soft, vibrant pink. There must have been a hundred trees arrayed at the base of the mountain like a floral crown, and even more receded into the gray. I fingered my necklace as I looked up and around. Even Jewel, sitting beside us, seemed impressed.

“Beautiful,” I whispered.

Brinsley reached up and snapped off a blossom-frosted branch, but instead of handing it to me, as I’d expected, he proceeded to pluck the flowers one by one, pinching them tightly between thumb and forefinger before letting the bruised petals flutter to the ground.

“This memory gift of yours.” He glanced at my uncovered hair. “Was it why the merchant kidnapped you?”

I was uncomfortable at the change of subject, but I nodded.

“And he took you where?”

I gave him a brief account of Nulla, the memory trade, and Cutter himself, finishing with a cursory explanation of Cutter’s death.

“You must have been considered valuable for him to come after you like that,” he observed.

“I was.”

He dropped the branch, now devoid of its flowers. “This fellow, Lord Adamo. He must have thought you valuable too.”

Brinsley’s expression was curious, assessing. It wasn’t my place to share Dorian’s quest. And until I knew what my brother did for a living, it would be unwise to tell him about the Reliquary. But, judging by the look he was giving me, some suspicions needed quelling.

“Lord Adamo bought me from Cutter before he died. He had need of a mem for a business matter.”

“A business matter?”

“Aye.”

“And yet he took the trouble to bring you here. An illustrious former thane of Maera, concerning himself with the family affairs of a lowly slave.”

I frowned. I didn’t think Dorian or I had told him about Maera. Had Brinsley been talking to Cass? Or inquiring about Dorian elsewhere?

“Lord Adamo isn’t like other lords. He’s a good man, and kind.”

“Kind enough to want to set you free, at great cost to himself,” Brinsley remarked. “When rumor has it that you are one of the strongest mems ever to be born in Caldera.”

So he had been asking after us. “It doesn’t change anything, Brin. Except in self-defense, I won’t ever use my powers on someone without their permission.”

“Or without the appropriate remuneration.” His expression had turned calculating. “You know, I could use a mem in my business, Sephone. Our business, now that you’ve returned to us.” He smiled thinly.

“Exactly what is it that you do, Brin?”

He shrugged. “A little of this, a little of that.” It was the same explanation my mother had given.

“Precisely what is this and what is that?”

“Naught to trouble yourself with, sis. You want to help our family, don’t you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, then, I’m allowing you to help.” He actually chucked my chin playfully. “Naught to worry about yet. Just enjoy the festival tomorrow night. I imagine plenty of my friends will want to dance with you.”

“Dance with me?”

“Aye, there’s always dancing.” His gaze strayed to my forearms again. “Luckily, all the women will be wearing long gloves. It’s tradition, since the blossoms flower so close to the end of winter and it’s often cold.”

I was suddenly beset by doubts as the reality of making Nyx my permanent home began to sink in. Cass and Dorian wouldn’t stay forever and, therefore, nor would Jewel. The wolf yawned, her enormous mouth opening wide. Eventually, I’d have to farewell the friends I’d made. When Dorian freed me, I’d have no reason to see him ever again—

“The thane’s entire fortune for your thoughts, little sister.” Brinsley watched me smugly.

“It’s nothing.” I shook my head.

He glanced at the wolf, and I wondered if he was more nervous in her presence than he let on. “I have to get back. I have some business that needs attending to.”

“I would like to stay out here for a little while longer. Jewel can escort me home.”

Home. It felt strange to use the word. I’d never thought of any place as being home. And now that I had one, it didn’t feel the way I thought it would.

Half-hoping that Brinsley would change his mind and stay with me—perhaps even express a desire to get to know me better—I was somewhat disappointed when he only shrugged.

“Suit yourself, Sephone. See you at dinner.”

I watched his tall, thin figure melt into the gray, my hold on Jewel’s fur the only thing tethering me to the real world amidst the misery sweeping my thoughts. I slid to the ground next to Jewel, peeled off my gloves, and buried my face and hands in her coat.

It was too early to expect them to really care for me. And I shouldn’t be expecting them to love me at all. But that didn’t stop my craving it: The love that a man like Dorian had for his daughter and for his wife. A love so warm that a body would never be cold again. He had loved them so completely that without them, he would never be complete again.

Thinking of the alter from my dream, I felt a strange tug in my chest. Could it be that home was not a place, but a person? The Mysterium certainly thought so.

“Sephone?”

My head snapped up, and Jewel ran to her master. Dorian knelt to embrace her, while looking at me with concern.

“Is anything wrong?” He was dressed in his courtly clothes again, and a dark blue mantle like the one he’d worn the second time we met. His thick hair was getting a little long, the extra weight making his locks appear more wavy than curly.

“I’m fine.” I hastily wiped my face. “How did you find me?”

“I came to see the famous blossom trees.” He smiled, warming me to my toes. “Actually, I was on my way to visit you when I saw you in the streets at a distance. I called your name, but you didn’t hear me.”

“I was with Brinsley.”

Dorian glanced around. “He’s here?”

“Nay, he went back.”

“And left you all alone?”

“I’m not alone.” I indicated the wolf. “I have Jewel with me.”

Dorian frowned.

“How is Lady Xia?” I asked quickly, changing the subject.

“Exhausted. All the nobles are preparing for war, even the Letheans.” He paused. “Especially the Letheans.”

“Have you spoken to them?”

“Several times.” He shook his head. “It hasn’t made much of a difference.”

“They’ll come around. I have faith in you.”

He gave a faint smile. “You’d be the only one.” He gazed up at the canopy of blossoms above us. “I see you found your flowers after all.”

“Aye, Brin brought me to visit them.” I toyed with the necklace at my throat.

“They’re exquisite.” He looked back to me. “Mind if I join you?”

“I’d like that.”

He lowered himself to the ground, leaning his back against the trunk of a blossom tree. Jewel immediately came and sat between us, and I slid my fingers absent-mindedly through her smooth, gleaming fur. She thumped her tail and then settled her head on her forepaws.

“She’s missed you,” I told Dorian. “She whines for you every night.”

He rubbed Jewel’s head. “I would have come earlier, but it’s been busy.”

“Perhaps I could help.”

“Nay.” The swiftness of his reply took me aback. “I don’t want the other nobles seeing you. It would only take another opportunist like Cutter to recognize your potential, and you could be captured again.”

“Well, it’s either that or help with the family business.” Upon his confusion, I explained Brinsley’s strange request.

Dorian’s face grew wary. “He wants you to help him?”

“Aye, with undisclosed tasks.”

“Watch that one.” His tone was firm but gentle.

I nodded.

He glanced at my discarded gloves. “Does he have anything to do with why you were crying?”

“I wasn’t—”

“I’m not blind, Sephone,” he interjected, mildly. “Or stupid.”

“I know.” I sighed. “It will take some time to be a family, I guess. I shouldn’t have expected anything to change overnight.”

“They will see what they have been missing soon enough.” There was an odd note to his voice, which vanished as he added, “You’re not feeling unwell?”

“No more than usual.”

He nodded at this. “I’ve been searching for an altered healer. Lady Xia has kindly put her resources at my disposal. We haven’t found anyone suitable yet, but we will. Don’t worry.”

“I won’t.”

A long pause. Dorian seemed to have something else on his mind, and he leaned forward. “I’ve been unspeakably selfish, Sephone. I should never have asked you to endure the Reliquary on my behalf. I cannot apologize enough. I can only hope the marks—”

He had surprised me with this sudden admission, and I hurried to put him at ease. “Nay. They didn’t spread.”

He looked relieved, and I comforted myself with the fact that it was not really a lie. It might be the truth, for all I knew. But until I gathered the courage to study the marks closely, I preferred both of us to be in the dark.

“Still, you should be careful.” Dorian’s face grew more serious. “I will talk to your brother.”

“Nay.” I didn’t want to give Brinsley any more fodder for his suspicions. “Thank you, but I’ll explain it to him myself.”

Dorian studied me carefully, as if he knew, this time, that I was lying. I wondered if he could feel my emotions as easily as I had felt his memories.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, “that your family is not as you might have wished to find them.”

The hopefulness from earlier returned, keeping my head above the churning waters and my spirits more buoyant than they should be.

“It’s all right,” I reassured him. “We’ll get there. Brinsley is of my blood, after all. He’s probably just as stubborn as I am. I’m grateful to have found them at all. And not dead, as Cutter first told me.”

He regarded me again with that same, deep, searching look. “But the dead do not disappoint. Do they?”

The bubble of optimism burst. He was right, of course. I buried my head in Jewel’s fur.

“I believe I already told you that I have a sister.” He shifted against the trunk. “Kaesi.”

I raised my head. “You did tell me.”

“She was my favorite sister.” He smiled briefly. “She would have been my favorite no matter how many siblings I had. We were so close in age we might have been twins. We were inseparable as children.”

I kept quiet, absorbing this treasured insight into his past.

“Kaesi has my gift with words, but she has never shared my principles. In childhood, our differences were just a game to us. We would argue for hours about the arch-lord and the Council of Eight, and how we would rule Caldera if given the chance. But as she neared adulthood, Kaesi joined a group that tried to overthrow the current system of thanes, which included our own father, in favor of a monarchy-dictatorship. They changed her . . . she became harder, more militant with her ideas. When her membership of the group was discovered, she was imprisoned in the dungeons of Maera.” He looked distant. “She’s still there to this day.”

I hadn’t seen any of this in his mind. “When did you last see her?”

“I’m sorry to say it has been years. When it became apparent that I was going to replace my father as thane of Maera, he counseled me to distance myself from her. I was not to visit her anymore, because it would not be politically expedient. Only our mother could bring her food and care for her needs. I’m grieved to admit that I listened to him.”

He began plucking at the grass. “All that to confess that, despite how you may esteem me, I have not been any better a brother to my sister than Brinsley has been to you.”

Moved by this unusual moment of vulnerability from him, I looked at him compassionately. “What she did must have hurt you terribly.”

“Aye, more than I admitted to myself at the time. Her betrayal brought great shame on my family.” He ran a hand back through his lengthening hair, and I saw a hint of copper. “Unlike the rest of my people, I have never reveled in the past—for me, not even its pleasures can soften its pain.” He gave a dry laugh. “Perhaps I should have been born in Lethe, because all I want to think about now is the future. But Sephone, you should have been born in Memosine, for you want nothing more than to return to the way things were.”

“I do want that,” I admitted readily. “But perhaps, as you yourself have discovered, some things cannot be undone.”

He absently reached out to pat Jewel, and his bare hand slid over mine. Instinctively, I began to withdraw from the accidental touch, but his warm fingers curled around mine, tightening gently. My breath caught, and I closed my eyes, holding my gift at bay with all my might, for once relishing the contact with another human being. Then he let me go.

I painstakingly released the breath, pondering a series of whys. Why he wasn’t wearing gloves. Why, with my hand gloveless, he had allowed the contact. Why he had deliberately prolonged it.

“May I walk you back?”

I nodded, hoping he wouldn’t read my heart in my eyes.

The streets were dark by the time we left the house for the festival. Brinsley, who carried a lantern, offered his free arm to our mother, who accepted it with a faint smile. After a moment, my father did the same for me. I hesitated before taking it.

“You look lovely, dear,” he said. I was surprised to see that his eyes—so like mine, but darker—were teary. His deep voice quivered with some heavy emotion.

“Thank you . . . Father.”

Perhaps it had been too early to address him thus, for he immediately faced forward, lifting his lantern in his free hand to light the way. I fought my disappointment, trying to recover the sense of pleasure I’d felt only an hour earlier.

My mother had not exaggerated when she’d said she could find me something nice to wear. The wardrobe in my room was stuffed with beautiful dresses, and since I was a similar size to what my mother had been in her youth, none of them required more than the slightest adjustment. I was a little taller, a little thinner, but that was all.

Conscious of the marks on my chest, I chose a gown of pale purple-blue gossamer that fell to my feet in shimmery, silken folds. It looped around my neck in a delicate pattern of silver lace, easily hiding the webbing, but leaving my shoulders completely bare, along with the upper half of my back. A silver shawl accompanied the dress, along with white, elbow-length silk gloves and a pair of low-heeled shoes.

The dress was lovely, but it was the warmth that kindled in my mother’s face which pleased me most of all.

“If ever I doubted . . .” she’d murmured as I’d twirled in front of the mirror, and I’d finished the statement in my head.

If ever I doubted that you were my daughter . . .

She’d surprised me again by sitting me down and proceeding to work on my hair. The short length made an elaborate hairstyle impossible, but somehow, with loose braids and pins and the occasional carefully placed white blossom, she’d managed to transform it into something quite elegant.

“Thank you,” I’d said when she finished. “For everything.”

Her hand slid over my shoulder. I couldn’t help noticing her hesitancy, or the way she confined her touch to the shawl. I focused on her kind eyes in the mirror.

“I’m glad you found us, Persephone. We don’t know each other well yet, but I know you’ll make us proud tonight.”

My chest had swelled to bursting, and tears had threatened the integrity of the black liner she’d used to highlight my eyes. I’d refused to let them fall, instead placing my gloved hand over the top of hers.

“Thank you,” I’d repeated in a whisper. It was all I could manage.

Now, as my father escorted me through the moonlit streets, Jewel behind us, I tried to reason with the ache in my chest.

Time, Sephone. Time is what you need now. You can’t expect anything more from them. Not yet.

Brinsley led us through a series of lanes until we rejoined the main street, where a procession of people carrying lanterns snaked down to the city gates. Despite the general excitement in the air, they were a somber-looking group, dressed in cool colors or delicate pastels. Their movement through the streets was ethereal, almost wraithlike. Even the lanterns lacked warmth, the wicks within flickering with white fire.

My family blended easily into the crowd, and I saw that Brinsley was right. Every woman had long gloves like mine, and even the men wore gloves, albeit shorter ones that ended at their wrists. Still, I was glad that I’d covered my hair and shoulders with the silvery shawl. No muttered accusations of lifetaker drifted in my direction.

The procession moved out of the city and toward the blossom trees Brinsley had shown me the day before. Torches picked a path out of the misty gray, and up ahead, I heard the faint tinkling of music. It was mournful and slow, to match our measured pace. I looked around, but Cass had left the house before my family, murmuring something about an empty flask, and I’d been so distracted that I’d forgotten to ask Dorian if he was coming to the festival. He would probably be too busy with his old League of allies.

As we drew closer, I saw what I had missed the day before. Beyond the first grove of blossom trees, running parallel to Nyx’s exterior wall, were several large, circular glass houses, their walls made of panels fitted closely together, their caps shaped like the turret roofs of a castle but constructed entirely from glass. They had been lit from within so each one shone like a beacon in the night, illuminating the hazy outlines of what I thought were plants. Every now and then, moonlight would pierce the heavy clouds, and the glass houses would sparkle like diamonds.

A crowd of people filled the empty spaces between the blossom trees and the houses. Several long tables lined the large, flattened stretch of earth, while a rectangle of dewy grass, surrounded by lanterns hanging on wooden stakes, had obviously been set aside for dancing. The musicians had assembled beneath one of the largest blossom trees, so that the music almost seemed to emanate from its branches. More lanterns hung from the trees, filled with the same white fire.

Hearing my indrawn breath, my father smiled at me.

“It’s something else, isn’t it?”

“Something else,” I agreed. I liked the way he looked when he smiled—he almost appeared like a younger man. A man who might have, once upon a time, called his daughter his little nightingale.

The procession scattered as we reached the trees—some to the dancing and others to the food. Brinsley excused himself immediately and headed for a group of young men and women gathered at one end of the tables.

“Oh, look,” said my mother, “there’s Lord Grennor.”

I turned and saw a man even younger than Dorian speaking to an older nobleman with flushed cheeks. The young man’s right hand was curled around the stem of an empty glass; his eyes were darting constantly toward the refreshments table, as if he wished to excuse himself from the conversation. The older man didn’t appear to notice.

“Lord Grennor is the current thane of Nyx,” my father explained. “He’s a good man, much like his father and grandfather. And very generous. For as long as I can remember, his family has hosted this festival heralding the end of winter.”

Had Lethe’s mountains been named after the thane’s family? I looked at my parents and tried to reassure them. “You don’t have to stay with me,” I said, watching my mother twisting her dress nervously. “I can wander about with Jewel.”

To my slight dismay, the wolf was suddenly nowhere to be seen, but my parents nodded, seeming relieved. My mother patted my gloved hand. “Have fun, dear. We’ll introduce you to some people later.”

“Of course,” I said, and they walked off in the direction of the feasting tables, my mother’s arm tucked in my father’s. I tried not to wonder how many of their friends and neighbors they’d inadvertently forgotten over the years or if it ever made things awkward between them.

Searching for Jewel, I turned in a slow circle, trying to peer through the crowd. Feeling uncomfortably warm amidst all the people and torches, I slipped the shawl from my head and shoulders. And in that moment, I saw him, standing right in front of me.

He looked so different, I almost didn’t recognize him. He wasn’t wearing his mantle, or any of his usual Memosinian garb. Instead, he wore a fitted black coat that reached to his knees, where black pants encountered tall black boots. The shirt he wore beneath was silvery-white, slightly open at the neck and so unlike anything he usually wore that it was all I could do not to stare at the way it hugged his muscular body.

But there was something else. As he stepped closer, I realized that he’d shaved off his beard. I’d never really thought of him as particularly handsome—at least, not next to a man like Cass—but now . . . And he looked so young.

“D-Dorian,” I stammered as I met his eyes. A warmth sprouted in my chest that had naught to do with his gift, and I tried not to blush as he—there was no other way to describe it but that he drank me in, his eyes sweeping down to my shoulders before returning to my face.

“You look—” he began.

“Breathtaking,” declared a voice from behind me, and I turned my head to see Cass, his eyes filled with unveiled admiration. Dressed similarly to Dorian, he was even more dazzling than usual, the purple and green highlights gleaming in his freshly combed hair. He took my shoulder and turned me to face him, inspecting me far more obviously than Dorian had done. He grinned. “Shall we dance, Seph?”

I hesitated, looking at Dorian over my shoulder. His shaven face revealed nothing, not even now that it had lost its shield. What had he been going to say?

Another man spoke from beside me.

“Go on, Persephone,” Brinsley urged as he clutched a purple-colored vial in his hand. “Dance with him.”

Cass looked at my brother appraisingly. “And here they tried to tell me you were surly and shy of foreigners.”

Brinsley’s mouth twisted into a smile. “Surly, aye. Shy, never.” He wandered away.

I wrenched my gaze from Dorian. “Aye, I’ll dance with you,” I said after the briefest hesitation. Not that I’d ever really danced before.

When we reached the middle of the grass, Cass turned to face me. “I mean it, Seph,” he murmured as he took my hands. “You look stunning.”

“So do you,” I replied, and green ribbons wove between us, tangling with our joined hands. My mouth opened slightly. “Your gift. I—”

He smiled faintly. “I wanted to be sober tonight.” He tugged me a little closer, and we began to glide around the makeshift dance floor. So early in the evening, there were only a few other couples, and it unnerved me to find them all watching us.

Or rather, Cass.

He was an excellent dancer, sure-footed and confident, and though he must have been aware of the attention he drew, he never took his eyes from mine. Only once did they stray, and that was when the moonlight splintered the crowns of the trees, dappling the grass with silvery-white. He glanced at my hair and grinned.

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Because it’s obvious, Seph, that you don’t know.”

“Know what?” I wondered if my hairstyle had come loose. Or if the marks on my chest had somehow become visible.

I glanced around at the other dancers. “They’re all staring at us.”

“Nay, Seph. They’re staring at you.”