Then, alone in the cool, echoing dark, she finally allowed herself to cry.

She had to eventually get out of the water to do it because the sobs were too strong, wracking her body until she could hardly breathe. She sat on a rock, wrapped in one of the soft towels Morgan had given her, with her arms wrapped around her knees, wretched and homesick and soul-bruised, letting it all go.

“I’m sorry, Father.” Her whisper carried over the water, bouncing softly off the cave walls until it died under the rush of the waterfall. “I’m so sorry. I love you.”

Though Magnus had said her birth mother was alive, and her birth father might possibly be as well, her heart was broken. The man who’d raised her had died because he’d taken her in, protected her, and sacrificed for her. He’d been killed because of her.

I’ll never let that happen again. Even if it meant never getting close to another living soul, she wasn’t going to be the cause of anyone else’s death. From now on, she would take care of herself.

She might, however, do a little killing of her own. The memory of the Grand Minister’s cruel, sneering face flashed before her eyes, and her hands clenched.

The can’t-die thing might prove to be useful.

The thought of what else it might prove to be was too much for her to consider. And she took a little solace in the fact that at least there was one other person she knew who was afflicted with the same thing: Honor.

Frigid, sword-wielding, Bitch of the Universe Honor.

She dressed in the clothes Morgan had left for her and headed out, determined to have a cozy little one-on-one chat with her sister. But she was quickly intercepted by Beckett and a group of a half dozen other young people, trailing behind him like admiring puppies.

Even the three guys looked at Beckett as if he were some kind of luminary. It could have had something to do with the soft yellow light emanating from his head.

“Hi!” Beckett enthused, flashing his thousand-watt smile. “We were just headed out; you’re coming, right?”

Before she could answer, Beckett said, “Oh, sorry! My bad manners again.” He began introducing the group, pointing each one out in turn, the guys first. “Sean, Dash, Oz, Kali, North, and Sayer.”

If Lumina’s own name hadn’t been so strange, she might have felt the impulse to question each about the origins of his or her name, but she only nodded at them, receiving a mix of hesitant smiles and looks of outright intimidation in return.

She guessed they’d all heard about what happened last night with Honor.

Wonderful.

Sidestepping the awkward silence that had descended, Lu asked, “Um, Beckett? What’s up with . . . that?” She gestured to his head.

“My Gleam, you mean?” As he spoke, the sunbeam glimmer around his head spread to his entire body, until the air all around him was aglow. She had to admit it was a pretty spectacular Gift. And she wasn’t the only one who thought so; two of the girls actually sighed. “Yeah, it comes in handy around these dark caves.” He shrugged, but Lu could tell he was pleased she’d mentioned it.

In light of her recent vow not to get close to anyone, she made a mental note not to mention it again. She didn’t want Beckett getting the wrong idea.

She said, “I bet. Anyway, have you seen Honor? I need to talk to her.”

He blinked in surprise at the change of subject, and Lu wondered how often someone turned the conversation away from him. Never, judging by the way everyone else was blinking in surprise at her, too.

“Uh . . . yeah. She’s already topside.” He seemed disoriented for a beat, then straightened his shoulders. “I’ll take you to her, okay?”

His self-confident, charming smile was back, and though she guessed it was the exact same smile he sent in every girl’s direction, Lu had to admit it was pretty irresistible. She smiled back. “Great. Thanks.”

Then she and Mr. Gleam and his fan club began the long, winding ascent through the caves to the surface.

“Holy . . .”

It was the only word that came to mind.

The view that greeted Lu when she emerged from the gloom of the caves into the brilliance of the day was the single most spectacular thing she’d seen in her life.

Color, everywhere. So much color it stung her eyes. The gently sloping hillside where she now stood gaping was carpeted in emerald, and dotted with the darker forest green of trees. The sky was blazing, enamel blue, the clouds so white they shone like pearls. Even the air smelled like a color: green. Lush, verdant, and rich with life. Off in the distance, the moors teemed with wildflowers, lavender and sapphire and pink, and a gentle gray-blue mist rose from the peaks of the faraway mountains.

But none of that compared with the glory of the sun. She’d never imagined such a color could exist. Pictures couldn’t do the blinding golden-yellow-white-diamond of it justice.

Lu closed her eyes and tilted back her head, basking in the most profound pleasure she’d ever felt: sunlight on her face.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?”

Even without opening her eyes, she recognized Magnus’s voice. And his scent. He’d approached so quietly she hadn’t heard him, and briefly wondered if that was another of his Gifts: Utter Silence.

“Good doesn’t even come close.” She was whispering, not wanting to break the spell. “An orgasm doesn’t feel this amazing.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to swallow them back. Idiot! What were you thinking? Heat spread across her cheeks to her ears, and it wasn’t from the sun. She opened her eyes, cleared her throat, and quickly changed the subject. “You didn’t let me properly thank you earlier, about the hangover thing. So . . . thank you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Are you feeling any better?”

She chanced a glance at him. He wore a black jacket with a hood that partially obscured his face, but what she could see of it was, if possible, flushed an even deeper red than hers.

“No.” His tone was gruff, the word a clipped syllable. He wouldn’t look at her. Instead, he was paying close attention to a nearby clump of bluebells nodding cheerfully in the sun.

“Why aren’t you resting, then? I could barely sit up in bed earlier, how are you even—”

“I heard you’d come up. I wanted to be here. To keep an eye out.”

An eye out? Lu scanned the landscape with new dread. “Morgan said we were safe here.”

He finally turned his head and looked at her. The color still hadn’t left his cheeks, leaving the scarred side of his face blotchy, ruddy beneath the snarl of pale scar tissue. “Safe is a relative term. There are all kinds of ways to get into trouble.” He glanced away, and his gaze fell on Beckett and his group, who’d given her a moment alone and were waiting at a respectful distance by a nearby stand of pines.

Beckett was looking back at them without his trademark smile.

“You don’t like him?”

That eloquent muscle in Magnus’s jaw jumped. “I didn’t say that.”

“No, but judging by that death glare you’re shooting him, I’m making an educated guess.”

The bluebells were now subjected to the death glare. He said, “In case you haven’t noticed, this is my normal expression.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed.” This earned her a sharp glance, which she didn’t wilt under. “But this particular look is more severe than most. It’s borderline murderous. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were planning on committing a violent act against Glowlight Gary over there.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest and looked into the distance. In profile, he was truly magnificent; the unscarred side of his face was all perfect planes and angles, high cheekbones and full lips and the serious slash of his brows. She wondered if he’d stood on her right side on purpose, and felt her heart give a little twinge of . . . what? Empathy? Is that what made her suddenly want to wind her arms around his shoulders and press herself against him?