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I stayed where I was, my back still turned.

“Fireheart,” Nyxaris said carefully, “come back to shore.”

I took another step forward. The hem of my robe clung to my skin, heavy with seawater. I moved deeper. The water climbed my body until it pressed beneath my breasts. I gasped at the sensation, but I didn’t turn. I stared out at the black horizon. For a moment, I wished I could just disappear.

Behind me, Nyxaris swore softly. I knew he wasn’t angry. He was afraid. I heard the water splash behind me. Then his hand brushed my arm. “Florence, please.” I stiffened. He quickly removed his hand.

Slowly, I turned to face him. He was waist-deep in the water. It lapped against his hips, sliding over golden skin and hard muscle. Behind him his godlike black wings loomed like half-folded midnight blades.

He was lit up by starlight. There were old scars on his chest beneath the celestial patterns. I hadn’t noticed them before. His hair fell around his shoulders. His amber eyes searched mine—hesitant and uncertain in a way I’d never seen them before. He was a god in the shape of a man.

He was a highblood.

“We serve the blood, we serve the line,” I whispered.

He flinched. “Florence, no.”

“The highbloods lead, by right divine. In blood we trust, in grace we stand.” My voice cracked. “The highbloods guide us, hand in hand.”

He closed his eyes. “What happened?”

“I saw the truth,” I said clearly. “I remembered.”

“What did you remember?”

“My father. How he died. I was there.” I stopped. “Highbloods murdered him—Blake’s brother, Marcus, murdered him.”

Nyxaris’s eyes opened. They were full of sorrow and regret—and something that went beyond both those things. Loathing. But not for me. “I was afraid this might happen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your ability to block thrallweave, our bond. It’s more difficult for compulsion magic to touch you now. If someone previously used magic to … help you block certain things out, well, those blocks are probably crumbling away.”

I stared at him, wide-eyed. “Help? Did this help me, what she did?”

He looked helpless. “I don’t know, Florence. Who did this to you?”

“My mother.” I corrected myself, “A highblood woman she worked for. But my mother gave her permission.”

His eyes softened. “Then, your mother must have had good intentions. I know she loves you very much. But she did this without your consent. She should have asked you. To find out this way must feel like a great betrayal.”

“Betrayal?” I nodded. “I do feel betrayed. But not just by her.”

He didn’t bother to deny it.

“Why did you go away?” My voice cracked. “Why did you leave me alone? What did I do wrong? I needed you. I needed you, Nyxaris, and you weren’t there.”

“I’m here now.”

“But where were you before?”

His eyes were tortured. “Don’t you understand? Now more than ever I would have thought it would be clear.”

I shook my head. “What should be clear?”

“I’m a highblood,” he choked out. “What I did with you in that field … was utterly undeserving.”

“What you did? You mean what we did? What we did together.” I shook my head. “I didn’t think you were undeserving. I thought it was beautiful.”