“I’m not,” Sebastian said, low and tense. “Gwen can’t see my magic, but she saw Hyde’s, and she saw the blood magic on him, same as what’s in my veins. Make no mistake; I’m not free.”

“The gallery of your cousin’s paintings,” Rory said, in realization. “Gwen and Ellis are hiding from the baron, but they’re trying to hide you from the Puppeteer, because if he finds you again, he’ll be in control of you. He could make you hurt everyone around you.” He swallowed. “He could make you kill someone.”

Arthur felt a twist of something like sympathy in his chest. To be under the constant fear that you might wake up someone else’s weapon was a terrible thought, and Sebastian was still living that experience.

“And now you understand why I stayed with the baron, why I followed orders, and why I can’t go get my own siphon in Paris,” Sebastian said testily. “And I hope you understand why I don’t talk about it. So acqua in bocca, yes?” he added pointedly.

Rory stilled.

Arthur glanced between them. “What did he say?”

“It means keep it to yourself, more or less.” Rory still looked confused. “You speak Italian?”

Sebastian shook his head. “Just a few phrases where the words sound similar to Spanish,” he said modestly. “I was stationed in Italy for a few months during the war. Bel paese, bella lingua, bella gente.” He added, to Arthur, “Beautiful country, beautiful language, beautiful people.”

“Oh.” Arthur glanced from Sebastian to Rory, whose jealousy and anger were gone, expression turned soft and curious. “Is that what you said.”

Arthur picked up his whiskey.

Smooth bastard.

They checked in on Jade and Zhang, but they wanted to stay and keep reading. Jade was sitting on the chaise with Gwen. Rory couldn’t make out what they were saying, but they were talking quietly, a little less tense than earlier.

Jade had told Rory they’d been good friends. Rory wasn’t sure what exactly they were now.

“We have several books in Italian,” Sebastian said to Rory. “I’m doing my best, but I’m sure you’d do better.”

“I’m sure,” Arthur repeated, sounding broodier than usual.

“I’ll take a look,” Rory promised, then turned to Arthur. “We should probably check on Lord Fine,” he said quietly. “Because the more I learn about Baron Zeppler, the less I want anyone without magic near any of this.”

A flash of hurt crossed Arthur’s face. “I don’t have magic.”

“I didn’t mean—well, I kinda did, ’cause I worry about you—but I didn’t really mean it like that,” Rory hastily corrected, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “I want you everywhere, you know that.”

Arthur sighed. “I suppose I can’t exactly be cross with anyone else for worrying,” he said, but at least the hurt was gone.