Hypnos flinched away from his gaze, as if embarrassed for him. Laila was tight-lipped, her eyes unfocused as if she was trying her best not to look at him. Zofia’s brows were drawn in disbelief. Enrique’s fury had melted into something far worse.

Pity.

“Do you remember the story of Icarus?” asked Enrique.

Séverin knew the myth well. Icarus, along with his father, Daedalus, the famous inventor, escaped imprisonment on a pair of wax wings. Daedalus warned the boy not to fly too close to the sun, but Icarus did not heed his father’s warning. The sun melted his feathers, and Icarus fell to his death.

“I remember it,” said Séverin.

“Then perhaps you would do well to remember the tragedy of flying too high.”

“Is Icarus the tragedy?” asked Séverin. “Or is it Daedalus? Someone who had the power to do impossible things and still could not manage to protect the people he loved most?”

Enrique fell silent at that.

“If you can try, why not do so?” asked Séverin. “If you could give yourself the power to change the course of history, wouldn’t you?”

Enrique turned his face away, but Séverin caught a flash in his eyes.

“If you could save the ones you love, wouldn’t you?”

At this, he looked at Laila and Zofia, both of whom met his eyes steadily. He turned to Hypnos.

“And if you—”

Hypnos perked up. “Oui?”

“I actually have no idea what you want, my friend.”

Hypnos grinned and clapped his hands, staring around at everyone. “I already have what I want. But I would not say no to a temple, harems, etcetera.”

“All I am asking is one last chance to discover what we can do,” Séverin said.

For a moment, he imagined they were back inside L’Eden, standing beneath the glass dome, where the sky looked more like a bowl of stars that had been upturned over their heads. He thought of the beginning of every acquisition—the cushy armchair Enrique favored, the velvet green settee Laila lounged on, Zofia’s high stool with a plate of sugar cookies balancing on her lap, Tristan seated between them hiding Goliath in his jacket. And himself, standing before them.

“If you think what we’re doing is impossible, then let us rewrite what possibility means … together.”

He looked up just in time to see Enrique shake his head, his hands clenched at his side as he stormed from the room.

“Enrique—” said Laila, starting after him.

“Sorry, mon cher,” said Hypnos apologetically, before he darted after Enrique and Laila.

Only Zofia was left. His engineer regarded him warily, twirling an unlit matchstick in her hand.

“Phoenix?” he said softly.

“I do not like what you did.”

Something inside Séverin shrank.

Zofia’s burning blue eyes lifted to his. “But I understand why you did it.”

“Do I have your forgiveness?”

Zofia considered this. “You have … more time.”

“I’ll take whatever you will give me,” he said, and smiled.

22

ENRIQUE

Enrique set off down the hallway, his ears—or rather his one ear and what was left of the other—burning.