I had no choice.

Those damnable words never left the magician’s lips, his silver tongue unwilling to formulate yet another lie. It remained lodged in his throat, as though it was a physical entity.

Lyney bowed his head earnestly, top-hat held against his chest in a display of remorse; bright moonlight reflected off him in a silver aureole, like some elusive Fata Morgana.

After all, everything—all of it—had been nothing more than an intricate tapestry of smoke and mirrors, carefully maintained to ensure the success of the Father’s plans.

But the curtain had been raised before he’d anticipated, revealing a house of cards that’d been crafted upon deceit. What’s more, the ever-tactile Lyney was now scrambling to repair the wreckage, compelled by an urge that he himself couldn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, argent strands falling over downcast eyes, “I…would understand, if you no longer wished to see me.”

Though he managed to keep his voice from wavering, the rapid gallop of his traitorous heart felt loud. Too loud—in the silence of the night, it was all his frayed nerves could focus on.

“If it’s any reassurance, I promise, it was never anything personal.”

You were just a means to an end.