Ruslan turned his head slowly. He smiled, but it was a closed-mouth grin, like a child on the verge of denying he’d stuffed his face with forbidden sweets. A flash of acidic panic seized Séverin.
“Ten days,” said Ruslan primly. “And don’t forget, Monsier Montagnet-Alarie… I get bored too, and perhaps you will not always like what I find diverting.”
Séverin feigned indifference. Just then, a door near the back of the room opened. Eva entered, holding a vial of blood Forging liquid. Ruslan clapped his hands eagerly.
“Mine, mine, mine,” he sang, then licked his lips. “Juicy, sweet protection, though I do detest the regularity of it all. Once a day keeps the liars away…”
Ruslan held out his wrist. A faint sneer curled on Eva’s lips as she flicked her taloned ring across his skin. Blood beaded at the wound, and she collected it in her vial. She held it tight for a few moments. The blood darkened by a few degrees. When Eva emptied out the vial, the molecules rose into the air, twisting like an image of spilling ink centimeters away from Ruslan’s nose. Ruslan cocked his head, and then he leaned forward, snapping at the Forged blood like a creature eating something out of the air.
Blood spatter flecked his mouth.
He grinned, tonguing the corners of his mouth and cheeks. “It won’t be necessary when we’re gods, will it? No need for protections from deception… I’ll make sure of it.” Ruslan grinned up at Eva. “Though I don’t know what I’ll do with you. Maybe I’ll eat you.”
Eva’s face paled as she set the vial back on its tray. It trembled in her grip. Séverin waited until she was nearly at the door before he spoke.
“Ruslan, I hope you do not take offense when I tell you that I am lately deprived of beauty.”
Ruslan moaned and tapped his bald pate. “I have no delusions regarding my looks, sadly.”
“I fancied I might take the lovely Eva on a gondola ride this evening.”
Eva stilled, looking between Ruslan and Séverin. Ruslan chewed thoughtfully on a piece of fruit before shrugging.
“I have no objections,” said Ruslan.
“I do,” said Eva loudly. “I don’t want to go anywhere with him—”
Ruslan laughed. “Silly Eva. You know how I find your outbursts charming, but if you do it again, I will bring your father and kill him in front of you.” His voice was calm. Warm, even, in a way that brought goose bumps to Séverin’s skin. “And after that, I’ll fill your mouth with burning embers to scald all thosefieryoutbursts away.”
Eva paled. She turned to Séverin. “I would be honored to accompany you this evening.”
Séverin felt a little ill watching the exchange. Eva had betrayed them, yes, but she was trapped too.
Are you any different?a voice inside him hissed.The things you’ve done to the people you claimed to love…
Séverin pushed aside the voice, summoning a grin. “Excellent.”
AN HOUR LATER,Séverin sat in the gondola of the Fallen House, a Forged black-lacquered boat that required no gondolier. The sigilof the Fallen House appeared on the side. On the prow, a honeybee clicked its metal wings. It could watch them, but it could not hear them. Even so, Séverin kept his back to it. From the docks, a member of the Fallen House watched him silently. Clutched in his hands lay the lyre within its blood Forged box.
“I thought we could see the famousPonte dei Sospiri,” said Séverin as the boat glided into the water.
Eva said nothing. She stroked the scabbard that held her jeweled knife. “I promised you company, but—”
“Company is all I expect,” said Séverin. “Conversation is optional.”
They passed the next half hour in silence. The watery thoroughfares of Venice were alive tonight. Lovers cozied up, lost in one another. When they kissed, their Forged boats—carved in the shapes of floating roses or cleverly sculpted hands—closed up around them, hiding them completely from sight.
Up ahead, an intricate bridge arched over the waters of the Rio di Palazzo. The white stonework was a marvel in itself—spirals crested along the top of the fully enclosed bridge like sea waves, and along the bottom arch appeared ten faces wearing expressions of horror and fear. Only one face smiled. Two small windows, both netted over in marble, regarded them solemnly as they passed beneath it.
“It’s aptly named, is it not?” asked Séverin, gesturing to the bridge and the palatial buildings that it connected.
Eva looked unimpressed. “I do not speak Italian.”
“Ponte dei Sospirimeans the Bridge of Sighs,” said Séverin. “It connects the new prison on our left and the interrogation rooms of the Doge’s Palace on our right. For a doomed man walking across the bridge to the prison, those windows held his last sight. Andwhat a sight it must have been… certainly worthy of a sigh or two.”
“What do you want?” asked Eva sharply.
Séverin reached for her hand. Behind him, that was all the Mnemo bug would see: two young people with their heads bent together and their hands clasped.
