He nodded. “It’s a funny thing, when you’ve got a blood tie with someone and it suddenly goes away. Things you’d never thought would bother you really…hurt.”

“I know.” I laughed bitterly. “Believe me. I know.”

Bella returned to the apartment later that morning. Nathan was asleep, so when she asked if she should let Cyrus come up, I told her it would be all right.

We sat across from each other at the kitchen table while he stared bleakly at the peanut butter and jelly sandwich I’d made for him. His eyes were still ringed with ugly, purple bruises, but the blood had been washed from his face. Small lines of stitches stood out against his pale skin at his hairline and chin. His lips were swollen and split, and he winced when he tried to drink the soda I offered him.

“What were you thinking?” I didn’t mean to sound so angry, but he’d frightened me. I remembered all the times my mother, upon reclaiming me from a department store security guard or the yard of a playmate she wasn’t acquainted with, would grip my arms and sternly admonish that I’d scared her to death. When we’d discovered Cyrus missing, I finally understood what she’d been feeling.

He didn’t look up. “I don’t know. I wanted to die. But when I got there, and my father’s guards…When they were beating me, I realized I didn’t want to die. I fought them so hard. But when I got away, it was back. This pain. I don’t know what it is, Carrie. It makes me want to die. But when I get close…Why does this hurt so much?”

“It’s guilt. It’s supposed to hurt.”

I looked up sharply. Nathan stood at the kitchen door, his eyes hard and his face lined with fatigue. Below the sleeves of his T-shirt I saw the dark lines of scabbed-over sigils.

I didn’t know what to do. If Nathan went after Cyrus now, there was no way I’d be able to intervene. Nathan was too strong and a way better fighter than me. Besides, I hadn’t been able to make myself fight him when he’d been pinning me to the floor in the bookshop.

Cyrus’s posture straightened a little, but no discernable emotions crossed his face. “Nolen.”

Nathan’s gaze met mine, but there was no clue in his eyes as to what he would do. “Run into your father?”

Shaking his head, Cyrus lifted the soda can to his mouth. “His goons.”

“I can’t say I’m not sorry you didn’t get killed.” Nathan leaned against the doorframe, frowning down at him.

Cyrus swallowed and wiped his mouth. “I can understand that.”