It wasn’t noticeable from the pews before, but now that she’s looking at him up close, she sees it: ragged scar tissue peeking just above the collar, circling his whole neck. Little barely-visible lightning scars lancing out from his temples.

Your noodle. He laughs breezily—comparatively, anyway. There’s no getting rid of the iron anchor that weighs them both down.

“It’s alright. Of all the people to know, he was probably the best choice. Well…”

The glances down. “Well, not that the whole island doesn’t know about 58, now. A few months ago a demon prince put everyone’s worst moments on display in front of everyone else. Like an audience in a theatre. I’m very, very glad you didn’t have to be there for that.”