The seconds of silence stretched into a full minute. Laila thought they’d turn around or step away, or dosomething, but instead, they just stared, and all she wanted was to run. Zofia’s blue eyes sharpened with a new light, and Laila nearly winced from the resolve she saw there.
“I will not let you die,” said Zofia.
Enrique gripped her hand, his touch full of warmth.
“Wewon’t let anything happen to you.”
You.
No conditions. No change in how they referred to her. No change, even, in how they looked at her. Laila held back, and it took a moment to realize that her whole body had seized up, ready to flinch. To flee. Knowing, for the first time, that she didn’t have to run made her stare at her hands, utterly lost. And then, as if he knew what ran through her thoughts, Enrique reached out. That touch shocked through her, and a second later, Laila threw her arms around Zofia and Enrique. Miraculously—more miraculous than a girl brought back from the dead or the terrible wonders of the Catacombs—they held her tight. When she finally let go, Enrique’s eyes were full of question.
“… So you could do that the whole time?” he asked, turning a little red. “Because if so, I know it may have looked like I stole that feathered boa from the cabaret, but I swear it—”
“I don’t need to know, Enrique,” said Laila, laughing despite herself. “Your secrets are still yours. I never read the objects of my friends.”
Unbidden came the memory of Tristan and all his hidden darkness, all the ways he’d needed help and all the missed times she could’ve figured out how to give him that. Maybe she should change that policy.
“Does Séverin know?” asked Zofia.
Laila clenched her jaw.
“Séverin knows that I was… made. And that I can read objects. But he doesn’t know why I needThe Divine Lyrics,” she said, adding in a colder voice, “He doesn’t need to know. I don’t owe him my secrets.”
If he knew and it made no difference, she would be no wiser than Snegurochka whose thawed heart turned her to nothing more than a gathering of lacy snowflakes. Laila wouldn’t do that to herself. Maybe for girls made of snow, love was worth the melt. But she was made of stolen bones and sleek fur, grave dirt and strange blood—her heart wasn’t even hers to give. Her soul was all she had, and no love was worth losing it.
Enrique squeezed Laila’s shoulder, then walked ahead of them. Laila swiped at the last of her tears and lifted her chin. She was nearly through the door when the light touch of Zofia’s hand made her turn.
“Thank you,” she said.
“For what?” asked Laila.
Zofia hesitated. “For the truth.”
“I should be thanking you,” said Laila. “Secrets are heavy burdens.”
Zofia’s expression shuttered. “I know all about burdens.”
ON THE OTHER SIDEof the door and in an alleyway of Moscow, atroikastood waiting to take them to House Nyx’s secure location. In the distance, she caught the sound of the second carriage laden with their belongings heading to their new hideout. A bright lamppost illuminated the falling snow, and the alchemy of its light seemed to turn the snow to gold coins. The air smelled of distant woodsmoke and tin, and the shards of ice on the deserted sidewalk snapped like bones beneath their boots. Wooden shutters cloaked the storefronts in shadows and silence. From thetroika, three inky horses tossed and turned their heads. Two of the House Nyx guards waited to take them, but as they started walking toward thetroika, Zofia reached out, grabbing Laila’s wrist.
“Do you smell that?” she asked.
Hypnos wrinkled his nose.
“Wasn’t me,” said Enrique quickly.
There was a slight… burn to the air.
“That’s saltpeter,” said Zofia. Her eyes widened as she looked at them. “It’s an explosive—”
She hardly got the word out before something behind thetroikaexploded into flames. The horses shrieked, jetting off into the darkness as huge flames rolled toward them.
11
SÉVERIN
Séverin stumbled backwards. The horses reared, snapping free of their tethers and fleeing into the night just before tall flames swallowed up thetroika, and choked off their exit. He slammed his hand against the brick wall behind him, scrabbling for any sign of a dent, any sign of escape. But the brick was slicked over with ice. Whatever stronghold he managed slipped out from under his fingers. Not like this, he thought, staring at Hypnos, Laila, Zofia, and Enrique…Not like this.
“I don’t understand… I don’t understand…” whispered Hypnos over and over, staring at the slowly blackeningtroika. Screams erupted from within the carriage. Two of the House Nyx guards were burning alive.
