But this is not about Ivan, who is already gone. It’s about Claudia, whom I dare not abandon again. And Piotrek, wholly committed to her. And Luka, who gives his loyalty too staunchly.

“What I had was so dangerous I thought it best buried forever,” I say slowly. “Knowing that, are you sure you want it found again? I may not be the reincarnation of my mother, but I’m also no idiot.” I slide a glance to Tibor.

Nikola chuckles. “Look around you. The court is full of misunderstood genius in every form. It’s in our blood. We are a court of savants. Brilliant. But shortsighted. I cannot allow you to ruin all that we worked for a second time. Nor for those inspired by a face—your mother’s, yours—to be so misled. Find it, whatever it is, and deliver it to me. I will do what must be done.”

I exhale a long breath through my nose as though about to answer against my better judgment. “Ivan’s last act was to get my fail-safe to me. I’m surprised he never gave it to you, Nikola, after he heard I was dead.”

I let the insinuation hang in the air. I need Tibor to doubt him—enough to help me.

“A good thing,” Nikola says. “Or I would have no need of you now. You have one week.”

“Fine. I’ll need passports, money.”

“You don’t need passports, as you will not be leaving Europe,” Nikola says. “Money, you will receive before you go. We will keep the commoner.”

Panic surges up within me.

“Did it ever occur to you that I have a common sibling for a reason? He, at least, won’t give up his memory of me to the Historian if he dies!” I say it with far more conviction than I feel.

“Yes, you have a point. Keep your sibling. You see how easy this is? You act as though we are enemies, when, in fact, we are here to help.”

“I never needed your help the first time, Nikola.” I get to my feet. I need to get Luka and the others out of here.

“Enjoy your last night at court,” Nikola says. “I trust when we speak next you will have much to tell me.”

But I know as far as he’s concerned, our conversation won’t be over until I hand him the thing locked away by the key—probably along with my own head.

*  *  *

It’s all I can do to move evenly past the guards, to keep from running down the tunnel.

To gaze steadfastly at the camera until I’ve passed beneath it.

The minute I enter the thundering cavern, I throw myself into the mob in search of Luka.

I’m painfully aware of the cameras—can see them now in the corners, on the wall, perched atop a bank of lights. The eyes that track me, human and electronic.