Now, Séverin watched the white petals float past him.
Look at what you’ve done.You hurt them. You did not listen. And now you are alone.
He was a fool. All his powers, all his wealth… it meant nothing.
Séverin sat back in the gondola, something crystallizing in his thoughts.
Laila, Enrique, Hypnos, and Zofia didn’t need him to get to Poveglia, but they would need him to play the lyre. If he got to them fast enough, then maybe he could apologize. He could beg them for another chance…
All this time, he had been stepping daintily around Ruslan’s whims. But there was nothing left the patriarch of the Fallen House could take from him. He had lost all that mattered, and in that way, he was finally as powerful as he could be. Only by having nothing to lose could he finally force the patriarch’s hand. They would not be waiting ten days to reach Poveglia. They would be leaving immediately.
SÉVERIN THREW OPENthe doors of Casa d’Oro, walking past the dozen members of the Fallen House.
The moment he entered, their Mnemo honeybees whirred loudly.
“Where is my lyre?” he asked quietly.
A guard stepped out of his room, holding the ice and glass box. In the shadows of the hallway, Séverin caught sight of Eva’s red hair. She must have been waiting for him, expecting confirmation that the others were alive. But he had no proof, which meant she was no help to him any longer. Séverin pressed his thumb to the thorn, taking out the lyre.
“Bring your master,” he said to the guards. “Now.”
“Monsieur Montagnet-Alarie—” started Eva, moving toward him.
He strode toward her. Her green eyes went wide in panic, and she moved to run, but he was too fast. He caught her around thewaist, dragging her back to his chest. She thrashed, clawing at him, but he didn’t care. He was only after one thing. A moment later, and he had removed the jeweled knife Eva kept around her waist. She sprang away from him, breathing hard.
“Where is Ruslan?” he yelled.
Eva cowered against the wall. “What are you doing?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What happened to them? You promised me—”
“Get the hell away from me,” he snarled. “This is no longer about you.”
Eva blanched. Fury stole into her face, and her hand reached for the pendant around her throat before she fled into the hall.
The Fallen House members stepped toward him. They were less than three meters away from him now. As one, they drew out pairs of knives from inside their black sleeves. Séverin laughed. He felt wondrously drunk on this new power.
He raised the jeweled knife to his throat, smiling lazily at all of them. “Ruslan has bored me. I no longer wish to find godhood with him.”
He watched the words sink into the atmosphere.
“In fact, I would rather be dead,” said Séverin. He pressed the knife harder against his skin. “He is welcome to the use of my limbs afterwards. I care not—”
Someone had begun to clap. Séverin looked up to see Ruslan stepping out of the red-brocade wall that had been nothing more than a Tezcat portal in disguise. A wide smile spread across his face.
“Iknewit!” said Ruslan. “I knew you would not be so dull!”
Séverin jerked his head to where the patriarch stood. The movement made the blade sting on his skin.
“Oh no no no,” pleaded Ruslan. “Stop that, my friend, you have made your point.”
“And what point is that?” asked Séverin coldly.
“That I have been a poor host,” said Ruslan. “Forgive me… I wanted to see who you were if I were to peel back that placid veneer of yours. I wanted to see how sharp your teeth could be. And oh… you did not disappoint.”
Séverin did not move his hand.
“Come, my friend,” said Ruslan, stepping toward him. “It is time to prepare for a Carnevale celebration.”
“I have no desire for parties,” said Séverin.
