“As she cradled the body of her beloved, Aphrodite sprinkled nectar over his blood. And from the blood of Adonis sprang the anemone: a short-lived, perennial flower, stained as red as the blood itself—and the spirit of Adonis was sent, like all spirits, to languish in the underworld. Zeus heard Aphrodite crying for her love, and out of pity for the goddess, he agreed to let Adonis spend half the year in life, and half in death.” Warden looked at me. “Consider it, Paige. There may not be any such thing as monsters, but there are still some pockets of truth in the shrouds of your mythology.”

“Don’t tell me you’re gods. I don’t think I could stand the thought of Nashira being holy.”

“We are many things, but ‘holy’ is not one of them.” He paused. “I have said too much. You need rest.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Even so, you need to sleep. I have something to show you tomorrow night.”

I leaned back against the pillows. I did feel tired.

“This doesn’t mean I trust you,” I said. “It just means I’m trying.”

“Then I can ask no more of you.” He patted the sheets. “Sleep well, little dreamer.”

I couldn’t hold out any longer. I turned over and closed my eyes, still thinking of red flowers and gods.

I woke to the sound of a knock. The sky outside was rosy, bloodshot. Warden stood by the fire, his hand on the mantelpiece. His gaze slashed toward the door.

“Paige,” he said, “hide. Quickly.”

I got out of the bed and went straight to the door behind the drapes. I left it slightly ajar, pulling the red velvet over the gap, and listened. I could still see the fireplace.

The chamber door unlocked and opened. Nashira stepped into the light of the fire. She must have a key to his tower. Warden knelt, but did not complete the ritual. She ran her fingers over the bed.

“Where is she?”

“Sleeping,” Warden said.

“In her own room?”

“Yes.”

“Liar. She sleeps here. The sheets smell of her.” Her bare fingers grasped his chin. “Do you really want to go down that road?”

“I do not understand your meaning. I think of nothing and no one but you.”

“Perhaps.” Her fingers tightened. “The chains still hang. Do not think for a moment that I will hesitate to send you back to the House. Do not think for a moment that there will be a repeat of Bone Season XVIII. If there is, I will not spare a single life. Not even yours. Not this time. Do you understand me?” When he didn’t reply, she struck him across the face, hard. I flinched. “Answer me.”

“I have had twenty years to reflect on my folly. You were right. Humans cannot be trusted.”