“I will make us all gods,” Séverin vowed.

As the candles burned down to their stubs, Séverin weighed his next steps. He needed to get rid of Ruslan, but he couldn’t do that until the patriarch of the Fallen House revealed where he could find the map to the temple’s entrance hidden beneath Poveglia. In that time, he also needed to establish an excuse to leave Casa d’Oro … perhaps Eva could be of use.

Outside his bedroom door, he heard the Fallen House members moving down a hallway. He expected them to follow his every move, and if it looked as if he were cataloguing the home, it would be too suspect.

Ruslan had barely let him glimpse what lay inside Casa d’Oro before he had him escorted to his room. Séverin had walked slowly, feigning exhaustion, but all the while, he noted all that he could. He’d caught the scent of tilled earth and heard the distant flap of wings. A courtyard garden, perhaps? Or a menagerie? Past the entrance, he’d spied a grand, curving staircase disappearing to uppermost balconies, and a door halfway open revealing a kitchen on the main floor. It wasn’t enough to make a plan … but it was a start.

Though there were no windows in his chamber, Séverin could hear the boats on the water, and, just beyond his wall, the scamper of small feet and fighting orphans. Slowly, a plan began to form.

AT DAWN, SÉVERIN stepped outside the bedroom door. A pair of guards stood, unmoving, not two meters from him. In the dimness, Séverin could just make out the shape of Casa d’Oro. His bedroom branched off from a bloodred hallway with multiple arches. Mirrors lined the walls. Not six meters away, he spied the kitchen entrance. Excellent, he thought. He turned to his guards and smiled.

“Is Patriarch Ruslan awake?” he asked.

The Fallen House member refused to speak. Or perhaps he couldn’t. The volto mask covered everything but his eyes, and even those had a curious milkiness to them, as if he were blind. Or dead. In place of his lips, a golden Mnemo honeybee whirred. Séverin waved at it.

“Well, if you won’t tell me that, will you at least tell me where I might find the kitchen?” he asked.

As if on cue, his stomach growled. The man said nothing, but turned and walked some paces down to the half-opened door Séverin had seen the night before. When he stepped inside, Séverin felt a gnawing absence. He was used to the kitchens of L’Eden, bursting with Laila’s latest baking experiments. He imagined Enrique and Tristan fighting over the mixing bowl of cake batter, Zofia licking a spoon of white frosting while Laila hollered at all of them to leave her alone for a moment. He expected sugar on the countertops, a jam bubbling on the stove … but the kitchens of Casa d’Oro were entirely empty save for a bowl of red apples on a low-lying table. Séverin took a loud bite of one, then pocketed two more.