From his sleeve, Ruslan drew out his Midas Knife and tapped the side of his forehead, grinning.

“A superstition, I must confess,” said Séverin. “Feed another before yourself and you will never go hungry. Besides, I intend to be a benevolent god.”

Ruslan lowered the knife, considering this. “I like this idea … benevolence. What excellent deities we shall make, eh?”

Ruslan held out his coffee cup, clanging it to Séverin’s. Séverin waited a moment before he cleared his throat.

“I find myself eager for my apotheosis, don’t you?” said Séverin, reaching for a bit of tart. “We could get the map to Poveglia as soon as you’d like. Tonight, even.”

The moment he said it, Séverin knew he had made a mistake. Ruslan paused, regarding him over the rim of his coffee cup. When he lowered it, the grin on his face was uncannily knowing.

“But I’m happy here,” said Ruslan, with a slight whine. “I don’t want to go through any muck just yet … we can play and relax and whatnot.”

Ruslan speared a piece of egg. A sparrow of black-and-white quartz alighted near his plate, cheeping. Ruslan lowered his fork and held out his hand. The glass bird hopped onto it.

“Let us leave in ten days, hmm?” said Ruslan.

A spot of cold opened up in Séverin’s heart. Ten days … Laila already had only nine left.

“Poor Laila,” said Ruslan, crooning to the bird. “She went on and on about how she only had ten days left, and now I find the number quite stuck in my thoughts. I assume you have no objections?”

Séverin felt a faint electrical current through his sleeve. Ruslan was seeking something … some sign, perhaps, that Séverin cared more than he let on. He took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow. To calm.

“None at all,” said Séverin. “It will make our apotheosis that much sweeter.”

Ruslan stroked the sparrow’s glass head with his golden fingers. “I quite agree. Besides, I know Laila has no way of finding us, but I’d feel better knowing she’s well and truly—”

He slammed his hand down. The glass sparrow exploded on the table. A corner of its wing stirred feebly, as if the machine was caught by surprise.

“Dead,” said Ruslan, smiling.

7

ZOFIA

Zofia struck the match and watched the little flame seize hungrily upon the wood. The smell of sulfur stinging the air calmed her as she lowered the flame to the candle and surveyed her latest piece of work—a length of metal thinly hammered to the flexibility of a cloth that could ignite on command.

She felt as safe as possible in the matriarch’s house, but she knew a time would come when they had to emerge. And when that time came, she’d be ready.

The Fallen House assumed they were dead, but if they found her and her friends, they would turn that assumption into a reality. And they weren’t only in danger from the Fallen House. Hypnos’s secret contact with House Nyx confirmed that the Order was making inquiries and investigations into the events that had followed the Winter Conclave. If a Sphinx authority got hold of them, they could be arrested, and with only a week left of Laila’s life, all their plans would be for nothing.