A member of the Fallen House stepped forward, a length of black cloth dangling from his hand. Séverin frowned.
“What is this?”
“For you, my friend,” said Ruslan. “To keep where you are going a wondrous surprise!”
Séverin stilled. Ruslan knew something and didn’t trust him. What had he found out?
“Very well,” Séverin said, careful to keep his voice neutral.
The black cloth settled over his eyes. It was Forged, of course, and the moment he blinked, he was in utter darkness. His senses felt heightened. He could smell the rot on the lagoons even from here.
“You will select two masks from themascherarisalon,” said Ruslan. “Once you possess them, you will know where to find House Janus’s Carnevale party.”
House Janus.Up until now, Ruslan had shared only vague details of his plans. Séverin had known that the location of the Carnevale party held the secret map to Poveglia’s temple, but the information about House Janus was new. Séverin knew little of the small Italian faction, but he remembered they specialized in treasures of cartography and considered themselves guardians of their acquisitions, which remained untouched.
“Two masks?” asked Séverin. “You will not be joining us?”
“I am officially a persona non grata at such events,” said Ruslan, sniffing disdainfully. “The Order thinks I’m somewhere in Denmark and is currently hunting for me there. I cannot risk showing my face, not after the reported discrepancies.”
Séverin felt his heartbeat notching higher. “Discrepancies?”
“The body count after we left the Sleeping Palace is not what it should be,” said Ruslan. “According to my contacts, the Order of Babel cannot locate the remains of the patriarch of House Nyx. They did, however, find the matriarch of House Kore at the bottom of the lake.”
A twist of heartache ran through Séverin. He remembered Delphine Desrosier’s fierce, blue gaze, the way she’d set her jaw when she told him that she would sacrifice herself.
“A pity,” said Séverin, forcing the emotion out of his voice.
“They cannot find the bodies of Monsieur Mercado-Lopez, Mademoiselle Boguska, or Mademoiselle Laila either.”
The moment of silence stretched out. Even in the dark, Séverin could sense Eva tensing beside him.
“Laila loved them very much,” he said calmly. “She might have buried them herself, or else is keeping vigil over their bodies while she waits to die. She’s… pathetic like that.”
“Perhaps,” said Ruslan quietly.
Séverin bit back a shudder as Ruslan’s cold, golden hand traileddown his cheeks. “But what if they are alive? What if they seek to deprive you of all that you so richly deserve? We can’t have that.”
“That would be quite the spectacle considering you saw me kill them.”
“The world is full of marvels both wondrous and terrible, Monsieur,” said Ruslan. His lips were next to his ear. “I am merely keeping my perspective open.”
“HE WILL KILLyou if you try to betray him, you know,” said Eva.
Séverin turned his head to the sound of her voice. Despite the gondola rocking beneath him, the blindfold had not budged. For all he knew, anyone could be recording him… documenting his movements, noting the inflection of his voice.
“Why would I betray him?”
Eva was silent a moment, then her voice dropped to a whisper. “He said there were discrepancies… and yet the proof of life you promised me never manifested. How am I supposed to trust you?”
Séverin was quiet. How am I supposed to trustyou? he wondered.
Some twenty minutes passed before the Forged gondola stopped. Séverin heard the rustle of silk as Eva stepped out. He could hardly make out which of the neighborhoodsestierishe had brought them to, but he could hear the hiss of cats in an alley and far away, the mournful note of a lone violin.
The black cloth fell away from his eyes, revealing a dimly lit street on the water’s edge. It looked abandoned. Nothing moved except an unpainted porcelaincolombinamask. On a person, the half mask would have left the wearer’s face only partially concealed. But the mask was not for people. It dangled from a lonely iron hook in the wall beneath which lay a dingy window lit only bya stub of a candle. The candlelight shone through the eyeholes of the mask, and on the opposite plaster wall, the shape of a grinning face flickered in and out of the light not high above the cobblestone streets. There, just beneath the mismatched shadows… the faint outline of a door beckoning them to themascherarisalon within.
Inside stretched a chamber the size of a generous ballroom. Dozens of patrons wearing masks carved in the shapes of grinning tigers or human expressions of rigid joy and terror danced around the room. Forged platters bearingamaroin crystal cups next to bowls of ice floated through the crowd, perfuming the room with bitter aniseed and myrtle. Around Séverin, the voice of an unseen opera singer could just barely be heard over the rustling silks and muffled laughter of patrons in the corners. At the threshold of the salon, a person wearing a mask that was nothing but a large, black oval and a painted, toothy grin bowed low to Séverin and Eva at the entrance.
“Here, we remove the faces we show the world and submit to something greater,” said the individual. “Welcome, friends… may you find that which you seek. May you leave our sanctuary able to face the world anew.”
