Séverin closed his eyes, picturing the moment he would see Enrique, Hypnos, Zofia, and Laila again. A sharp ache ran through his chest. They were, justifiably, furious with him. But he would prove that he was worthy of them. He would make amends. He would never leave them in the dark again.

And surely, once they saw the lyre’s power … once they saw that he had always intended to share its gift … they would forgive him. For a moment, he pictured Tristan’s gray eyes shining once more. He saw Tante Feefee, the matriarch of House Kore, resting her warm palm on his cheek. He would tell her he had found a way to make his love more beautiful. She would be proud of him, he thought.

When Séverin stood, he smiled.

His mother’s voice moved through him like an unfurling dawn. This was the kind of light that remade the world, and Séverin felt its warmth on his skin like a promise.

“YOU SEEM MUCH changed, Monsieur Montagnet-Alarie,” said Ruslan.

“How so?” asked Séverin, straightening his plum and silver–brocade jacket as he stepped outside his rooms. He was immediately met with two members of the Fallen House. Séverin heard the familiar creak of the hinge on the glass and ice box, still opened from when he had last removed the lyre. A beat passed. If he was going to get rid of the patriarch and leave with his lyre, the blood Forged box posed a problem. Eva might have been the solution, but one glance at the stoney-eyed girl standing next to Ruslan did not fill him with confidence.

“You seem … newly invigorated,” said Ruslan, tilting his head to the side. “Whatever were you doing all alone in your rooms? Scheming, perhaps, for tomorrow’s acquisition of the map to Poveglia?”

Eva moved closer, laying a hand on Séverin’s arm. It might have looked like a gesture of confidence or intimacy, but she was wearing a new, onyx ring on her hand. And when it touched his skin, Séverin felt an unfamiliar presence against his pulse that was not unlike the interrogation table in Ruslan’s dining room.

It was testing to see if he would tell the truth.

Séverin raised an eyebrow, then dropped the lyre into the box. “If you must know, I was preoccupied with stroking my instrument.”

The presence on his skin stilled.

A speaking look passed between Eva and Ruslan. Ruslan threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, how I like you!” said Ruslan, reaching out and tousling his hair. “Now, you shall be quick, Eva, will you not?”

Eva nodded, removing her hand from Séverin’s arm. Tonight, she wore a peach-colored gown with a high collar at her throat. The bejeweled knife from around her waist was gone.

Ruslan snapped his fingers.

A member of the Fallen House stepped forward, a length of black cloth dangling from his hand. Séverin frowned.

“What is this?”

“For you, my friend,” said Ruslan. “To keep where you are going a wondrous surprise!”