He strode toward her. Her green eyes went wide in panic, and she moved to run, but he was too fast. He caught her around the waist, dragging her back to his chest. She thrashed, clawing at him, but he didn’t care. He was only after one thing. A moment later, and he had removed the jeweled knife Eva kept around her waist. She sprang away from him, breathing hard.

“Where is Ruslan?” he yelled.

Eva cowered against the wall. “What are you doing?” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “What happened to them? You promised me—”

“Get the hell away from me,” he snarled. “This is no longer about you.”

Eva blanched. Fury stole into her face, and her hand reached for the pendant around her throat before she fled into the hall.

The Fallen House members stepped toward him. They were less than three meters away from him now. As one, they drew out pairs of knives from inside their black sleeves. Séverin laughed. He felt wondrously drunk on this new power.

He raised the jeweled knife to his throat, smiling lazily at all of them. “Ruslan has bored me. I no longer wish to find godhood with him.”

He watched the words sink into the atmosphere.

“In fact, I would rather be dead,” said Séverin. He pressed the knife harder against his skin. “He is welcome to the use of my limbs afterwards. I care not—”

Someone had begun to clap. Séverin looked up to see Ruslan stepping out of the red-brocade wall that had been nothing more than a Tezcat portal in disguise. A wide smile spread across his face.

“I knew it!” said Ruslan. “I knew you would not be so dull!”

Séverin jerked his head to where the patriarch stood. The movement made the blade sting on his skin.

“Oh no no no,” pleaded Ruslan. “Stop that, my friend, you have made your point.”

“And what point is that?” asked Séverin coldly.

“That I have been a poor host,” said Ruslan. “Forgive me … I wanted to see who you were if I were to peel back that placid veneer of yours. I wanted to see how sharp your teeth could be. And oh … you did not disappoint.”

Séverin did not move his hand.

“Come, my friend,” said Ruslan, stepping toward him. “It is time to prepare for a Carnevale celebration.”

“I have no desire for parties,” said Séverin.

“The celebration is held in a place that contains the map to the temple beneath Poveglia,” said Ruslan, speaking quickly.

Slowly, Séverin lowered the knife. He felt the hot slide of blood down his throat. In his other hand, the lyre seemed to hum.

Ruslan smiled. His golden hand caught the light. “We must celebrate, for one last night, what it means to be mortal. It will be a little souvenir we can take with us when we become gods.”

PART II

12

SÉVERIN

When Séverin touched the lyre, he heard impossible things. He heard his soul stirring sleepily under his bones. He heard stars creaking overhead.