Julia’s silent for a long moment, and I expect her to turn that rage on me, but her eyes are soft when she finally looks at me, and her warm hand grasps mine. “Then she died doing the only thing that mattered to her.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “That still doesn’t mean you should trust your father.”

I almost snort at the unnecessary warning. “I don’t.”

“Good girl.”

She lets go of me and twists away, fading into the whirls of blue like ocean foam.

I push into the crowd myself, looking for my troupe. It’s hard to find them when everyone’s wearing the same color, but I doubt Xander changed his hair.

A woman’s gown blows in the breeze from the fans, and its sea blue mixes with the sapphire of my own dress, twirling together like ocean waves until we practically share a gown. She laughs as we struggle to disconnect ourselves.

I stumble away from her, catching the back of my taffeta gown on heels I forgot I was wearing.

Ice grabs the back of my arm and freezes me in place one second before righting me.

Not ice. A hand, unnaturally cold and firm; he’s coated his fingertips in miniature icicles. Only vampires should be so cold. Odd that a man who hates vampires would go out of his way to make his skin cold. My pulse thrums too slowly. Long, thin white fingers flick out in the corner of my eye, and the dresses untangle. The woman dips into a low bow, her dress now safely billowing behind her, before rising and darting away.

“Be careful, daughter,” Lucius says, leaving his words open and easily attached to any situation—current or future. The sharpness of his eyes tells me he means it for more than just tripping on a dress.

“Thank you,” I say, because what else do you say to a vague warning from a vampire-pale immortal ruler who’s also your father?

“No need.” His stare catches on my stomach where my scar must be under my flowing fabric.

“You thought about letting me die.” We both know what I’m talking about because the more I replay that moment, the more I question it. He knew who I was, and for a moment, he chose to let me die. He changed his mind, but that moment still exists.

He stares at me like he doesn’t know what I’m hoping he’ll say.