Dorian knew it was true when he heard himself say it. He’d hurt Luce that way to control her, drive her to murder. And she’d wanted to; she’d started . . . But somehow she’d held back.

“But then if you still love her . . .”

“It was never going to work!” Dorian exploded. “You don’t understand. She’ll just run off and abandon me whenever she thinks there’s something more important. And she doesn’t even want to grow up, and she doesn’t care what that’s going to do to me. I talked to her and talked to her about it, but she won’t even try to turn human again!”

Dorian caught himself and buried his face in his arms. He was determined not to burst out crying, determined to get a grip on himself, but he could feel his control slipping. He couldn’t afford to meet Ellison’s eyes, and for several moments they were both silent. Then Dorian felt a hand touch his shoulder, and he flinched in annoyance. He was in no mood to accept anyone’s sympathy, Ben Ellison’s least of all.

The hand was shaking. Dorian turned his head, but at first he couldn’t identify the look on Ellison’s face. Could that be horror?

“Again?” Ellison asked.

His cell phone started ringing.

∗ ∗ ∗

Nausicaa had been right all along. Luce had been an idiot not to listen to her. But even if Nausicaa was gone now, it wasn’t too late for Luce to do what her friend had wanted. She’d hurry back to her old tribe’s cave and formally challenge Anais in front of everyone. If they attacked her, fine, she would fight. If they didn’t she’d shame Anais by proving once and for all who the true queen was, and then she’d lead anyone who would come with her south and away from here. They’d leave for good, start over somewhere new, and maybe Luce would even find Nausicaa.

It was better to think about her plan than about how degraded she was. She’d been foolish enough to put her trust in a human, and he had utterly failed her. He couldn’t even wait one month past the melting of the ice before he’d thrown himself at someone else. He was shallow, faithless, empty . . . just like all of them were.

Luce sped up the coast, blind to the streaking night blue bubbles, blind to the refracting starlight.

Anais had no idea what she was up against.

∗ ∗ ∗