“Wonderful is a hot bath and a foolproof plan waiting for us on the other side,” said Enrique. “We don’t even know where we’re going to find this safehouse.”
“We have a hint…” said Hypnos before reciting the matriarch’s instructions: “On the island of the dead, lies the god with not one head. Show the sum of what you see, and this will lead you straight to me.”
“Which meanswhat, exactly?” said Enrique.
Hypnos’s mouth pressed to a thin line. “That’s all I was given,mon cher. So we must make do. I’m going to check that this is the correct route. Zofia, will you come with me? I might need that fancy necklace of yours.”
Zofia nodded, and Hypnos pressed his hand against a particular brick. His Babel ring—a grinning crescent moon that spanned three knuckles—glowed softly. A moment later, they stepped through the brick and vanished.
Laila stared at the Tezcat door, a desperate laugh clawing up her throat.
When they’d first left the Sleeping Palace, she had almost imagined that things might be salvaged… but then Hypnos had revealed the matriarch’s “hint,” and Laila had known they were well and truly lost. Even if they made it to the island of Poveglia, what then? They had no instruments, no intel, no weapons, no directions… and no meeting point either.
Laila squeezed her eyes shut, as if it might conjure whatever she was supposed to have glimpsed in that Mnemo bug. In her mind’s eye, she saw Séverin’s cool, dusky gaze turning from her. She remembered catching sight of a half print of her rouge just below hiscollar from when she had kissed him in the night. Laila’s eyes flew open, banishing those images.
She hated Séverin. He had overly relied on her belief in him. He had foolishly assumed she would think there was no world in which he would hurt Enrique or Zofia, but he had underestimated how well he’d convinced them of his indifference. Laila could almost imagine him saying:You know me. But that was false. She didn’t know him at all. And yet the guilt stayed. Every time she blinked, she saw the shattered Mnemo wings, and she didn’t know what that moment of fury had cost them in their search.
Laila shoved Séverin out of her thoughts and looked across the alley to where Enrique stood. His arms were crossed, and his gaze looked distant and furious.
“Do you blame me?” she asked.
Enrique’s head snapped up. He looked horrified.
“Of course not, Laila,” he said, walking over to her. “Why would you think that?”
“If I hadn’t smashed the Mnemo bug—”
“I would’ve done the same,” said Enrique, his jaw tight. “Laila, I know how you felt… I know what it looked like…”
“Even so—”
“Even so, we are not out of options,” said Enrique firmly. “I meant what I said… we don’t need him. We’ll find another way.”
Enrique reached for her hand, and together, they stared up at the sky. For a moment, Laila forgot about the weight of death on her bones. She tilted her chin up, scanning the high brick walls. They seemed to be part of a spiral of ramparts separating the city from the sea. Overhead, Laila could hear the bustle of a market, and gossip in foreign tongues. The smell of baked bread flecked with honey and spices filled the air, pushing out the rotting stench from the nearby sea.
“Plague Island,” said Enrique softly. “Do you remember that prank Tristan pulled on me? We were all talking about whether or not to pursue that acquisition there, and he knew I was a little unsettled by all the talk of bones in the soil—”
“A little unsettled?” teased Laila, a soft smile curving her mouth. “I remember you screamed so loud when Tristan’s Forged vines wrapped around your ankles that half the guests in L’Eden thought someone had been murdered in the drawing room.”
“It wasterrifying!” said Enrique, shuddering.
Laila grinned despite herself. She thought the memory of that day would leave a bitter tang, but instead, it brought unexpected sweetness. Thinking of Tristan had begun to feel like an old bruise rather than a fresh wound. With every passing day, his memory became less tender to touch.
“I remember,” said Laila softly.
“Burial grounds disturb me,” said Enrique, making a quick sign of the cross. “In fact…”
He broke off suddenly, his eyes widening. At that moment, Hypnos and Zofia stepped through the Tezcat portal. Behind them, Laila could see a long stone hallway that opened up into a marketplace. There was a white bridge in the distance. Seagulls swooping around the stands of fishmongers.
“Enrique?” prompted Laila. “What is it?”
“I… I think I know where we need to look for the safe house key,” said Enrique. “The island of the dead… it must be a reference to Isola di San Michele. Almost a hundred years ago, Napoleon decreed that the island would become a cemetery because of unsanitary burial conditions on the mainland. I remember I’d studied about it in university. You know, there happens to be a particularly unique Renaissance church and monastery on the island that—”
Hypnos clapped his hands. “It’s settled! Let us away to the cemetery!”
Enrique scowled.
“What about the rest of the riddle?” asked Zofia.
