And then—and then—The unpardonable joke, the parody of love … That he could think it, say it, seem to mean it … She could not get her mind around it. She could not believe it had happened. She could not imagine forgiving someone who had made such an offer.

She could not imagine her life without the great luminous excitement that was her heart whenever she thought of Jex.

She did not know how to walk back from this point. She did not know how to move forward. Her blood screamed in her veins, dragged its nails across the interior walls of her arteries. She ground her cheeks against her knees and wept, and knew there was no hope or comfort in this world.

The voice startled her as much as the touch on her shoulder. A man had come up to her so quietly she had not heard his approach. “Hela? Can I help you? Can I get you anything?”

Surprise for the moment dried her tears, gave her enough strength to jump gracelessly to her feet. She stared at him, noting nothing but the blue skin and the sweetness of the nondescript face. His voice became more insistent. “Are you all right?”

No, I’m dying, I’m betrayed, there is no love in the world at all, she found herself thinking, but she could not say such lunatic things. She had to pull herself together, show that iron will that she had inherited, surely, from her grandmother, though her grandmother would not have been in just this situation no matter how oddly the world turned. As coldly as she could, she said, “Yes. I’m fine. Just go on.”

He was high-caste; no doubt about it. She recognized the medallion against his shirt and the formality of his clothes, but even had he been dressed in gulden rags, there would have been no mistaking the breeding in his face, his voice, and his expression. She had always had a quick contempt for most of the indigo men she had met; they had all seemed—compared to the virile, volatile gulden—ineffectual and tame. But there was a gentleness to them, or at least to this one, that was in stark contrast to the violence of mood she had just left behind. And a certain kindness that appeared almost stubborn, for he still would not leave.

“I can take you to a doctor if you need help. Or I can fetch you a glass of water—”

“I’m fine,” she said, interrupting. She could not allow him to succor her. What kind of end would that be to this horrific day? She had no need of help from chance-met indigo men. She did not even like them. “Thank you,” she said austerely. “You’re quite kind. But please leave me.”