And now Declan himself was confused, because he didn’t think Ronan looked nearly as enchanted as he had thought he did a moment before. Now he looked sharp and alive, eyes bright and mirthful. “This isn’t about me. It’s about people like me. And it’s not about Matthew. It’s about people like Matthew. They don’t get to live, but they will. Is that really all this meeting is about? I thought Matthew was having a meltdown. I thought you needed weapons. I thought you needed dreams to build your empire. Cash. Cars. Girls.”

“It’s a family meeting to make sure you know where you’re going to be in three years,” Declan said. “Long-term goals.”

“Oh, God, it was a meeting for Declanisms? The more things change, blah de fucking la.”

“What is your plan doing for other people? Are you breaking the world?”

Ronan laughed merrily. “I hope so.”

He had led them back around to the Spanish Cloister. Declan did not generally think of Ronan as a particularly timely person, but Bryde had told him to be efficient, and he’d been efficient. He had brought Declan right back here without Declan even thinking about how they were being led back here. It was a very dream thing to do. It was a very adult, strategic thing to do.

Bryde waited in front of El Jaleo, his hands tucked in his pockets, eyes in shadow. His voice was a little knowing, “You could take anything from here right now. You could take this painting to hang in your living room and never have to worry about your brother Matthew again.”

It had already occurred to Declan that anybody with that impossible dream orb of Bryde’s could steal anything they liked from this place. Do anything they liked. Declan had heard Bryde’s hidden threat earlier. The entirety of Declan’s memories could have been destroyed for good, by an unkindly dreamer.

Declan’s hands felt a little shaky.

“This museum’s already had enough taken from it,” Declan said. “Even if I didn’t care about that, I don’t want to walk around with a target on my back. And it fixes very little, as I’m sure you’ve already considered. Matthew can’t wrap that painting around himself and have a normal life. Rob from this place, and for what? A prison of my apartment?”

“Good,” said Bryde. “So you understand what we’re doing, then. You want Matthew to live like anyone else. So do we.”

Declan said, “You could do this without Ronan.”

“No,” Bryde murmured. “I could not.”

There was a sound from somewhere within the museum. Not an alarm, not yet, but movement.