He stood suddenly, nearly scattering some of the documents on the table beside him.

“Phoenix,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m finished with my work,” she said.

“Oh … well done?”

She looked around the room. “You have not found what you are looking for yet.”

Enrique deflated a bit. Ever since their meeting the night before, he had been searching for clues in the matriarch’s safe house about the location of House Janus and the Carnevale gathering. But so far, he had found nothing. In the other room, Laila was busy reading all the objects she could, searching for a hint. An incognito Hypnos had gone to make secret inquiries in Venice about the mascherari bar that created the invitations. So far, all Enrique had managed to do was pull every book and framed picture off the library wall.

“You need help,” said Zofia.

Enrique was a bit stung, but he had grown used to the way Zofia processed the world around her. She never meant it as an insult, merely as an observation.

“I do,” he said, sighing.

There were only three days before Carnevale. Hypnos had made it clear that he thought if they could not find a hint about House Janus or the mascherari salon soon, then finding Séverin was their best chance of getting to the temple beneath Poveglia.

“We must face it, mon cher,” said Hypnos, right before he’d left the house. “He always knows what to do and where to look.”

Perhaps in the past that had been true, but now? Enrique had no trust in this new Séverin and the things he wanted. A vicious part of him imagined Séverin waiting for them at the meeting place, only for them not to show. Would he feel abandoned? Would he look at all the things he had done and hate himself? Would he be shocked? Enrique hoped so. Then, maybe, Séverin would know how they’d felt.

“What should I do?” asked Zofia.

“I … I have no idea,” said Enrique, gesturing to the two tables piled high with papers and objects. “I arranged most of the items on the tables. I figured it would be useful to look through them. House Janus is named for the Roman god of transitions and change, and is generally depicted with two heads. He’s often associated with doors, so perhaps look for a key? Or something that changes shape?”

Zofia nodded, walking to the first table. Enrique was too ashamed to tell her that he had already examined all the objects in the safe house. And he was far too ashamed to admit to himself that the person whose perspective he wanted most was the same person he would be happy never to see again.

Enrique could almost imagine Séverin as he had once been … wearing something immaculately tailored and chewing on a clove as he surveyed a room. He had an uncanny ability to know where treasure liked to hide. It was something Enrique had grudgingly admired, how Séverin could contextualize an object and weave a story around it.