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“How they must have suffered,” Lu whispered to the glass. “How horrible it must have been.” “No more than what you’ve suffered. Or I.” Startled out of her reverie, Lu looked at Magnus. He didn’t meet her eyes, but judging by the expression on his face he already regretted speaking. She turned away, pretending not to feel his relief when she did. Pretending not to wonder exactly what it was that he’d suffered. She’d asked Morgan about it, just before she’d hugged her good-bye, and hadn’t gotten a satisfactory answer. “I have something I need to ask you.” Morgan’s manicured brows arched. “Which is?” “Magnus. What happened to him?” “His face, you mean,” Morgan said. “The scars.” “No, I . . . I mean yes, I guess so, but not specifically. More like, what happened to make him so . . .”
- Writer
