She had not seen it since Tristan died, but she remembered it. It was the smile before an acquisition fell into his hands; the smile when the plan performed to standards; and it was as familiar to Zofia as the glass alembics and measuring devices that had once lined the shelves of her L’Eden laboratory.

Lately, she had not allowed herself to think of what she had left behind in L’Eden because it seemed statistically unlikely that she would ever see it again. But if Séverin’s smile could return, perhaps other things could return as well.

“I know,” she said.

Séverin laughed.

AFTER AN HOUR and two stumbling routes through the hidden passageways of House Janus’s headquarters, they were finally outside. The cold air burned in Zofia’s lungs as she, Hypnos, Enrique, Laila, and Séverin wound their way through the low-ceilinged passageways that threaded the streets of Venice. Zofia’s ears were still ringing from the explosion, and she had begun to count the lanterns tucked into the eaves of the street. She told herself that every light she crossed was one step out of the dark.

The unknown terrified her. It settled inside her like an itch that scratched through her thoughts. It was only the reminder that Laila depended on her that forced distance between herself and her panic, but she hadn’t stopped thinking about Hela, and all the sounds and chaos from the Carnevale acquisition only served to remind her that there was far too much she did not know. She was so focused on counting the lights that she almost missed the conversation around her until Séverin said her name.

“What?” she asked loudly as they came to a stop before a curved archway.

In the distance, she could see the black, shimmering water before the Rialto Bridge. The market kiosks were closed by now, and nothing but the occasional stray cat crossed their paths.

“The explosion,” said Séverin. “I assume there were no problems attaching it to Ruslan’s gondola.”

Problems? No, thought Zofia, her mind momentarily returning to the kiss she had shared with Enrique. That aspect had been pleasant … happy, even, in a way that reminded Zofia of winter fires in her parents’ sitting rooms, the feeling of utter safety. But then she remembered Hela’s lost letter, and her face crumpled.

“There was no problem attaching the detonation device,” said Zofia. She reached into her sleeve, where the other half of the bonded bomb pair lay against her forearm. She pulled it out. In the moonlight, it looked as if it was carved of ice. “When this is triggered, the other half will explode.”

“Good,” said Séverin. He shifted a little on his feet, not looking up at them. “We need to deal with Ruslan before we go, and we cannot afford the risk that he will jump off the gondola to safety. He doesn’t trust me.”

Laila’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders lifted. Zofia recognized that posture. It was as if Laila were bracing herself for something.