A hungry expression flickered across Ruslan’s face. “Prove it.”
Séverin reached for the Mnemo bug on his lapel and slashed the sharp end of the pin across his palm. Out the corner of Enrique’s vision, he saw Laila strain forward, her eyes round with hope. Ruslan held out the lyre, and Séverin smeared his hand across the strings. Enrique held his breath. For a moment, nothing happened. And then, he heard a low sound. He couldn’t say where it came from… some pocket of his soul or a corner of his mind. But if there had ever been a Music of the Spheres, a hymn that moved celestial bodies, it wasthis. A sound like winter wind shuffling icicles on branches, the mournful song of swans at dusk, the groan of the earth turning. He felt it sear through his bones, expand in his heart… a song woven into a thread that wound through his whole being.
But only for an instant.
Near the wall, Laila let out a cry and slumped forward. When she raised her head, blood trickled from her nose. Around them, pieces of the wall broke off, crashing into the ice. Ice sculptures, once moving, now froze. The projectile podiums went from glowing to muted and dull.
Everything Forged was failing.
Enrique forced his gaze to the lyre… there, the once dull and metallic strings shone iridescent. At least, Enriquethoughtit was iridescence. It was a sheen the likes of which he’d never seen. Something like the cross between a spill of oil on the surface of a pond and the ocean backlit by the sun.
“Amazing,” said Ruslan. He tilted his head as he looked at Séverin. “How?”
And then he paused.
“Your mother,” he said softly. “The woman from Algeria… I remember tales of her. And her name…Kahina. I wonder if the old patriarch of House Vanth knew what a treasure he’d managed to smuggle out of that country.” He smiled, and then looked eagerly at the lyre. “Well, don’t hold us in suspense any longer! Don’t just pluck a string, play the thing!”
Enrique thrashed again on the ice, trying to catch Séverin’s attention.No! Don’t do it.
Laila spoke, her voice breaking. “Please, Séverin… please. I need you to play it. I… I’m dying—”
“I know,” he said, cutting her off.
The ice in his voice would’ve frozen the room over.
When he said nothing else, Laila flinched. Her mouth opened, closed. Enrique watched the horror settling behind her eyes, and he wanted to tell her… no. Not that. He wantedSéverinto tell her that the lyre destroyed all that was Forged. That there was a reason behind this pain.
“Please,” she said.
“Yes,please, Séverin,” said Ruslan, like a child. “Play it.”
Séverin looked at Laila, his expression utterly blank, and then he turned to Ruslan.
“No.”
Laila hung her head, her hair curtaining her face, and Enrique—even as relief surged through him—felt his heart ache.
“I won’t play it here and risk my own chance at godhood,” said Séverin with a cruel smile. “You need me, so I suggest you follow my rules.”
“Play it,” insisted Ruslan. “Or…” His gaze slid to Enrique and Zofia. “Or I’ll kill them.”
Enrique’s pulse turned jagged. If he played it for them, Laila would die. If he didn’t play it, all three of them would die. But however much he struggled with his thoughts, Séverin seemed collected.
“I’ll save you the trouble.”
Séverin moved swiftly. His face was blank and cold, and Enrique thought he had never seen such empty determination in someone’s eyes. Enrique struggled against his bindings as Séverin crossed the room, standing before Zofia. She flinched back as he grabbed the nape of her neck. Something red glinted on his hand. And then, impossibly, Séverin’s dagger went to her heart.
Zofia’sheart.
The same heart that offered so much without hesitation. A heart full of bravery. Full of fire.
Enrique blinked. He had to be wrong. Maybe he’d lost so much blood, he couldn’t see straight… but no. Séverin stood so close to Zofia that he might have been whispering in her ear. Not that Zofia would see. Her eyes widened, her body slumping forward as she went utterly still. Séverin’s hands were cherry red. Laila let out a scream, just as Séverin turned to him with that same knife. His eyes held no humanity, but something older. Something feral.
Séverin moved closer. Enrique’s heartbeat thundered so loud in his ears that he almost didn’t realize Séverin was speaking. When he finally heard him, it made no sense.
“I wish my love was more beautiful.”
I don’t understand, Enrique wanted to say.
