“My father is dead?” I asked, knowing I already knew the answer. My fingertips were fire, my eyes were fire, and I could feel flames creeping up my back and up onto my scalp. “He is,” Garoux said softly and apologetically. “I am so sorry, Soleil. I had no reason to think you and your mother did not know. Although, then again, how would either of you have known? An ignorant assumption on my part, I suppose.”
