Sickness struck Nox again. Just as before, it was a nausea of the heart manifesting in her stomach. Her physical body still hummed, insisting upon its contentment. Despite the fact she had just consumed a large glass of water, her mouth felt dry.

“I don’t understand.”

Millicent sighed impatiently. “Farleigh, dear. I’m asking about your orphanage. You didn’t have men fawning over you, did you? Did you enjoy some puppy love with any such fellow? I’m just dreadfully curious how you’ve managed to stay in the shadows as a damned virgin! Think of it, a goddess-damned succubus under my own roof, the roof of a brothel no less, already twenty-one, and still a virgin! I don’t know if I’ve ever heard anything as comical! Such a peculiar accomplishment, yours is, my dear.”

Nox shook her head against the cruelties Millicent was saying. The ornate walls of the office swam. What sort of horrible lies were these to tell her in the wake of such trauma? What had she ever done to deserve this brand of emotional turmoil?

“I’m part demon?”

“Well, are you part demon or are you part stupid? We’re a year in, dear, and I’ve never known you to be daft. I’m asking you a question. Do try to keep up.”

Nox had no desire to speak, but her mouth moved of its own accord. She answered, “I guess the matrons always favored me? I was set apart from the others while the Gray Matron kept me for her personal errands? Is that what you mean?”

Millicent considered the answer but remained dissatisfied.

“You have an inherent ability to make people fall in love with you, Nox. Now that I think about it, even your name makes more sense. Who was it that called you ‘Night’? Was it the matrons?”

“No.” She shook her head, feeling her long, black hair as it moved against her chin, her shoulders, down the middle of her back like a thick, silken curtain. Her hair had always been her favorite feature. It made her look like the shadows themselves. “I’m told it was the only thing my mother ever gave me. It was her parting gift before she abandoned me.”

“Well, I don’t suppose she would have known what to do with you. A fae wouldn’t have dropped you in Farehold, which means your father must have been the fae. It’s lucky, really. You’ve been able to hide in plain sight. You would have been sired by a northern fae—”

“A dark fae.”

“Pishposh, dear. You’ll come to find the world isn’t so black and white. Whatever it was that kept you nourished, I’m glad for the love in your life that sustained you for the seventeen years before meeting me. We wasted a year behind the bar, but no more time lost, dear! I don’t know if the matrons could truly have achieved such a feat, but you kept yourself alive long enough to bring you here to me. Believe me, dear, you’ve been running at a tenth of your potential. Now that we know what you are and what you’re capable of…oh, the world is just opening up for you.”