“You will hate me for what I will say next, but I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again. And I can’t hold this knowledge from you anymore. My work has led me to research Outsiders in search of genetic solutions. They don’t have the dangerous response we do to stress and fear. In fact, what I’ve seen is the reverse effect. The CGB makes arrangements for us to bring them into our facility. That’s how I met your father. I work with Outsider children now. It’s easier for me after what happened.”

Aria’s heart tightened and tightened, twisting, the pain unbearable.

This couldn’t be happening.

She was not an Outsider.

It couldn’t be true.

Lumina reached up, pressing her fingers to her lips as if she couldn’t believe what she’d said. Then she brought her hands back down. When she spoke again, her voice was hurried and raw with emotion.

“I never viewed you as being inferior in any way. The Outsider half of you is the part I love most. It’s your tenacity. Your curiosity about my research and the Realms. I know your fire comes from that part of you.

“You’ll have a thousand questions, I’m sure. What I haven’t shared is for your own protection.” She paused, giving the camera a teary smile. “And it’s always better, isn’t it, when you discover answers on your own?”

Lumina reached forward, ready to shut off the recording. Her pained expression filled the screen. She hesitated and sat back, her small shoulders shifting nervously, her petite frame rocking, like she couldn’t stop herself. Seeing her that way, tears streamed from Aria’s eyes.

“Do me a favor, Songbird? Sing the aria for me? You know which one. You sing it so beautifully. Wherever I am, I know I’ll hear it. Good-bye, Aria. I love you.”

The screen went dark.

Aria had no limbs.

No heart.

No thoughts.

Perry appeared in front of her, his eyes flashing with rage and hurt. What had just happened? What had Lumina just said? She studied Outsider children?

Like Talon?

Perry picked up the small coffee table, upending the vase of roses. With a guttural cry, he hurled the table at the wallscreen. The vase broke first with a hollow pop at her feet. Then the screen shattered with a terrible explosion of glass.

Long after he’d left, shards still rained on the floor.

She watched her mother’s message three more times in the upstairs common room. Marron stayed with her, patting her knee and making soft comforting sounds.

She looked down at the handkerchief wadded in her hand. Her heart ached, like it was ripping inside of her. The pain only seemed to get worse.