Cerulean Cape levitation

lestan listened, but he was suddenly very tired, and suddenly saddled with a dire guilt as reverie spoke of her true age, and he remembered how he had been caught by the haze of scent and fairy-lights.
and now!
lestan was consumed by shame, choked by it; it snared his tongue and muted her words, though he nodded and kept his eyes upon her face, her perfection, which he had smeared and all but laid desolate with his horrid fleshly desires.
the sundancer.
riordan.
lestan's self-loathing gave way to a harrowing flash of rage, that this stranger should toy with reverie in such a way. "he tells u — you. he tells you everything, o-or he doesn't come with us. and h-he'll never know blossom until i trust him, that's for goddamned true."
reverie's hesitance around riordan turned the man into a scapegoat of perfection for lestan, upon which he might hang the yoke of his rage, the chains of his frustration, and now the shackles of his remorse.
"f-for now, reverie," the mayfair said, at last pulling his eyes from their daughter, "let's rest. you first. i'll keep watch. and in the morning, we can start moving toward saltshore."