“Elizabeth does not mind.” Victor’s knife winked in the sun as though it wanted to play, too. “She is always concerned with the beauty and poetry of the world, but I want to know what lies beneath every surface. Give me your hand, Elizabeth.”

Henry, on the verge of tears, tugged me farther away. “You cannot go around cutting people open, Victor. It is simply not done!”

I did not know where to look or how to respond. But I knew staying with Henry—on his side—would offer me no benefit in the long run. And I could not risk Victor’s anger. I had never been the target of it! Henry had put me there, and I resented him for it.

I extricated myself from Henry’s arms and placed a dainty kiss on Victor’s cheek. Then I put my arm through his and held his elbow as I had seen Madame Frankenstein hold Judge Frankenstein’s. “He was only playing. You are the one who ruined the pretend by kissing me without asking first.”

Victor radiated coldness, but his surface was as smooth and clear as glass. “I am done with your games for today, Henry. They are boring.”

Henry looked from one of us to the other, hurt and bewilderment on his kind face as he tried to understand how he had been the one in the wrong.

“Henry does not understand how to play corpse; that is all,” I said. “It is our special game. We are getting too old for it, anyhow.” I looked to Victor for confirmation—desperate for it. I needed to mend this. I could not lose Henry. He was such a bright spot in my life.

Victor nodded, one eyebrow raised dispassionately. “I suppose we are. I will be fourteen next month. We are going to the baths to celebrate. Did Mother tell you?”

I could not let him leave Henry angry. Who was to say if our friend would ever return? Victor did not let go of grudges lightly. The year before, the cook had served a meal that made him ill. Victor refused to eat food prepared by him for an entire week, forcing his parents to dismiss the cook and find another. I did not want Henry dismissed, even if he had complicated everything.

Laughing with gaiety, I squeezed Victor’s hand and beamed up at him. “Do invite Henry and his parents. Otherwise, I am afraid you and your father will go off hunting together and I will be left alone with little Ernest.”

“But you told Mother you love Ernest.”

“All he does is cry and wet himself. I will be miserable trapped with him! And miserable without you. If Henry is there, you will have a reason to tell your father no. And he can take Monsieur Clerval instead.”

The tight remnants of anger around Victor’s eyes finally disappeared. “Of course Henry should come.”