“True.” She eyes me carefully. “Anyway, you won’t have to worry about an official complaint. Lincoln stuck up for you.”

My heart beats so wildly, I think it could break free from my chest. “Oh, he did?” I decide that now’s a really good time to straighten everything on my dresser. “What did he say?”

“You saved the Earl’s life and they owe you thanks, not a complaint. He shut down the discussion like that.” She snaps her fingers.

Suddenly, I feel like doing a happy dance around the bedroom. “Did he say anything else?”

“He said it’s not the thrax way to repay your kindness with cruelty, even if…” Her hand pops over her mouth.

My heart beats even more excitedly, if that’s possible. “Come on. Even if what?”

“Even if you are a demon.” Cissy winces.

There’s that word again: demon.

“Oh.” I plunk down at the edge of my bed and fold my hands into my lap. Sadness wraps about me like a heavy blanket.

Cissy sits down beside me. “Don’t let him get you down. You’re from totally different worlds, that’s all.” She wraps her arm about my shoulder. “Look, I’m glad you’re interested in someone, but really? It shouldn’t be him.”

Ouch. That hurt.

“I didn’t say I was interested.” My eyes start to sting. Whatever you do, don’t cry, Myla.

“Come on, sweetie.” She gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze. “A ton of guys would give anything to date you. The fact is, you’re a quasi, not a thrax. There’s nothing wrong with that.” Her voice takes on a joking tone. “It’s not like you’re part ghoul or something.”

And then I lose it: a full on, snot-strings-out-of-my-nose festival of balling my eyes out. It takes Cissy a while to calm me down enough so I can explain why I’m so upset.

“Here’s the thing. I think my dad’s a ghoul.”

Cissy gasps. “I’m sorry, Myla.”

My face flushes with embarrassment and pain. “For so long, I wanted to know two things: what Mom did before the war and who my father was. Now, I wish I’d never asked.”

Cissy twists so she can see me face-to-face. “If it makes any difference, it doesn’t change how I feel about you or our friendship. Not one bit.”

My mouth rounds into a shaky smile. “Thanks, Cissy. That does make a difference.”

I stand on a rolling dune of the Gray Sea, the warm grains of sand heating the tender soles of my bare feet. Wind whips my long cotton nightgown about my legs. Although I’m deep asleep, I’m awake and alert inside this dreamscape. It’s my first since the thrax autumn tournament took place one week ago.

One week ago? That disaster is as fresh as if it were yesterday.