Nausicaa was confused, staring from Dorian to Luce and back again. “But, Luce, what have I done wrong? Of course he would know . . . There’s no reason not to speak of the truth.”

“Luce tried to talk to me about it once,” Dorian explained. He sounded almost calm; only the quickened rhythm of his breathing gave his emotions away at all. “And I just freaked out at her. That’s why she’s worried. But the thing is, I’m way better now, and I can stand to hear it. It is the truth.”

Luce stared at him with a tumult of conflicting emotions. She was relieved and amazed to hear him deal so well with Nausicaa’s bluntness, but she was also hurt that he was saying these things for the first time to Nausicaa rather than to her.

“You are better because Luce has been singing to close your wounds, shaping your psyche as she shapes the water. Hasn’t she?” Nausicaa agreed. Dorian opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, then bit his lip and looked down. His dark blond hair hadn’t been cut in months, and it tumbled over his eyes. It reminded Luce of the fact that her hair hadn’t grown since her transformation. “As with the water, it is not that she changes what is there, but that she caresses it into new forms. This is what interests me about Luce, that she finds so many unexpected ways to use her gifts. She goes exploring inside her own voice.”

Luce was bewildered. She hadn’t told Nausicaa anything about the dreamy afternoons and thrilling nights that she’d spent singing her way through Dorian’s mind. It was too private to talk about, and she could tell by Dorian’s wounded expression that he thought so, too. Nausicaa had a way of knowing more than she was supposed to, but how could Luce explain that to Dorian?

“I haven’t . . . Dorian, I mean . . . I haven’t actually been talking to Nausicaa about this,” Luce murmured uncomfortably. Nausicaa looked back and forth between them again, unsure what the matter was. For someone so wise about so many things, Luce thought bitterly, Nausicaa could be oddly clueless about people’s inner lives. Thinking that made Luce miss Dana’s sensitivity; it was so sad that Dana didn’t seem to want to talk to her anymore.

“No,” Nausicaa said after a moment. “You don’t need to talk to me about this, Luce. I can tell.”

Dorian looked up again, and Luce saw tears in his eyes. This wasn’t fair to him, Luce thought. She was used to dealing with Nausicaa’s brutal honesty, but there was no reason Dorian should be forced to listen to all this.

“How can you tell something like that?” Dorian asked. “I mean, I guess I never asked Luce . . . not to talk to anyone about that, but . . .”