“Are you going to fly home?' I said.

A soft laugh. 'Unfortunately, it would take longer than I can afford. Another day, I'll taste the skies again.'

I glanced at the wings tucked into his powerful body, and my voice was hoarse as I spoke. 'You never told me you loved the wings- or the flying.' No, he'd made shape-shifting seem... base, useless, boring.

He shrugged. 'Everything I love has always had a tendency to be taken from me. I tell very few about the wings. Or the flying.'

Some colour had already come into that moon-white face- and I wondered whether he might once have been tan before Amarantha had kept him belowground for so long. A High Lord who loved to fly- trapped under a mountain. Shadows not of his own making still haunted those violet eyes. I wondered if they would ever fade.”