Eva paled. She turned to Séverin. “I would be honored to accompany you this evening.”

Séverin felt a little ill watching the exchange. Eva had betrayed them, yes, but she was trapped too.

Are you any different? a voice inside him hissed. The things you’ve done to the people you claimed to love …

Séverin pushed aside the voice, summoning a grin. “Excellent.”

AN HOUR LATER, Séverin sat in the gondola of the Fallen House, a Forged black-lacquered boat that required no gondolier. The sigil of the Fallen House appeared on the side. On the prow, a honeybee clicked its metal wings. It could watch them, but it could not hear them. Even so, Séverin kept his back to it. From the docks, a member of the Fallen House watched him silently. Clutched in his hands lay the lyre within its blood Forged box.

“I thought we could see the famous Ponte dei Sospiri,” said Séverin as the boat glided into the water.

Eva said nothing. She stroked the scabbard that held her jeweled knife. “I promised you company, but—”

“Company is all I expect,” said Séverin. “Conversation is optional.”

They passed the next half hour in silence. The watery thoroughfares of Venice were alive tonight. Lovers cozied up, lost in one another. When they kissed, their Forged boats—carved in the shapes of floating roses or cleverly sculpted hands—closed up around them, hiding them completely from sight.

Up ahead, an intricate bridge arched over the waters of the Rio di Palazzo. The white stonework was a marvel in itself—spirals crested along the top of the fully enclosed bridge like sea waves, and along the bottom arch appeared ten faces wearing expressions of horror and fear. Only one face smiled. Two small windows, both netted over in marble, regarded them solemnly as they passed beneath it.

“It’s aptly named, is it not?” asked Séverin, gesturing to the bridge and the palatial buildings that it connected.

Eva looked unimpressed. “I do not speak Italian.”

“Ponte dei Sospiri means the Bridge of Sighs,” said Séverin. “It connects the new prison on our left and the interrogation rooms of the Doge’s Palace on our right. For a doomed man walking across the bridge to the prison, those windows held his last sight. And what a sight it must have been … certainly worthy of a sigh or two.”

“What do you want?” asked Eva sharply.

Séverin reached for her hand. Behind him, that was all the Mnemo bug would see: two young people with their heads bent together and their hands clasped.

“I can help you,” he whispered.

Eva’s green eyes blazed. “I will not be dragged from one man’s mercy to another. Least of all you. Do you expect me to trust you after you killed them? They were … good … people.”

Séverin held Eva’s gaze. “And if I told you they were safe?”

Eva paused. “How?”

“Does it matter so long as it is true?”

Eva released his hand. “Only if you can prove it.”