Ruslan raised an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

Laila held her breath. It was a dangerous thing to get Ruslan’s attention, and yet if he did not listen, all of the lyre’s power would be wasted.

“Look at the floor, Ruslan,” said Séverin evenly. “It is changing even now to reflect different times of the day. Trespass upon a temple too early, and it is a sign of disrespect to the gods. We should go at noon, at the zenith of the day to mark the occasion. And that’s not to mention the statues themselves—”

“They’re straight from the legends I’ve researched,” said Enrique, gulping down air. Laila couldn’t take her eyes off the golden dagger now tapping his remaining ear. “It’s a … a legend about King Ajatasatru. He ruled until 460 BC, and he was said to possess all manner of military inventions. Catapults and mechanized war chariots and—”

RUSLAN STARTED TO laugh. “A clever little ploy! You can delay this as long as you like, but it won’t make a difference—”

“It’s true!” said Enrique loudly. “I … I know it. Something will happen.”

Out the corner of her eye, Laila stared at the curling mist. What lay on the other side? Or who?

“‘Something,’” repeated Ruslan, bored. “How frightening. Come, Séverin—”

Laila felt his gaze sweep over her.

“If we go now, we will be killed,” said Séverin. “And then no one can play the lyre and turn you into a god. Is that truly a risk you wish to take?”

Ruslan paused. At first, he sighed, and then a little smile rose to his lips. Laila felt as if a cold wind had blown against her neck.

“Quite right,” said Ruslan. “I cannot risk you … but Laila? Well. Quite a different thing. My dear, how many days do you have left anyway?”

Laila stared down at him. “Plenty.”

“Not scared of death, are you?”

“I consider it a dear friend,” said Laila through her teeth. “Practically family.”

Ruslan grinned. “Then you will not mind taking the first step.”

“No!” cried out Séverin.

“Another word out of you, and someone else will pay for it,” said Ruslan quietly.

Séverin’s eyes looked wild and huge in his face. Laila wished she could tell him that she wasn’t scared. She couldn’t explain why she felt fearless in this moment. Maybe it was what she had glimpsed when the temple grasped hold of her mind … there was a vastness at work here, and she was not frightened by her smallness within it because she had felt that there was a place for her.

“Go ahead, my dear,” said Ruslan. “Walk. Or do you need encouragement?”

He snapped his fingers, and two of the guards broke off to join her. Their rotting flesh stank. When one of them grabbed her arms, Laila could feel the man’s finger bones pressing into her skin as he spun her around.

The shining floor looked like a freshly scrubbed dawn. Laila hesitated when she felt the knife travel down her throat, moving between her breasts and encircling the line of her waist before settling at the small of her back. A fresh wave of nausea ran through her. She couldn’t help but imagine that it was Ruslan’s sickly, golden touch on her skin. Laila wanted to look at the others, but a dead Fallen House member blocked her view.