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“Isn’t fresh air supposed to be good for me?”

“I am telling you what he said, not what I believe,” she said gravely. “What I believe does not matter in this household. It never has.”

So whatever possessed Lucia was contagious, it seemed. And I feared it was spreading to me as well.

Something is wrong. Something is very wrong.

I shifted from foot to foot, as though the movement would shake words loose from my mind. I finally murmured an awkward goodbye and went back inside, tail between my legs.

The hall seemed darker than only moments before, the air heavier. With little else to do before my time in the aviary, I returned to the library, where the tea and cookies awaited me. That lukewarm chai, drank alone in dead silence, was the bitterest I had ever had.

If not for the knowledge of my next destination, I probably would have just gone back to bed. Beyond the usual drive to see Zeno or discuss theAeneid, there was something greater that kept me awake. It would be the first time I had been in the aviary since returning to the abbey. And even though Leonore would not be among them, I missed the birds—and the normalcy.

When I entered the room, the quiet and stillness of the library vanished in an instant. In the aviary, the chirping was loud as ever, and the room was as vibrant as usual, if not more so. The plants I had picked out many months ago were flourishing, but even more vibrant than the blooms were the birds that flew between them. Every bird teemed with energy, taking full advantage of the breadth of the room. Their bright summer plumage gleamed in the grow lights. A trio of strawberry finches flitted over to me, tilting their heads at me with evident curiosity.

It took me a moment to see Zeno sitting among the white stone, to remember that the aviary did not have any statues in it.

“You’re early,” I noted, sitting beside Zeno. “Or not five minutes late, I guess.”

“I’ve waited long enough for you,” Zeno responded in an equally casual tone. “I can’t bear wasting another minute.” I turned toward the bird to shield my flustered expression, and Zeno picked up his copy of our book. “Which verse do you remember us reading last? Shall we start there?”

What were words? What was theAeneid? The way Zeno was looking at me, I couldn’t remember any of that. I just wanted to soak in a past comfort and then take advantage of a newfound treasure. I tossed aside my copy.

“As much as I’d like to talk about theAeneid, I don’t think I can today. I’ve really missed this place,” I said with a small smile. “Notjustthe aviary, I mean. All of it. I’m just happy to be here right now with you.”

Zeno chuckled, resting his hand on his chin and giving me the warm, crooked smile I adored. “I know. Me too.” With far more boldness than I remembered having, I crawled into Zeno’s lap. He scooped me up immediately and kissed the top of my head. “I was hoping you’d do that.”

I laughed and nuzzled into him. “There’s no way you could’ve known I would!”

Zeno huffed in response. “I’ll have you know I have anexquisiteimagination. There were plenty of things I was hoping you’d do. This was the tame option.”

For whatever reason, this lighthearted tone—likely intended to enlighten me—had the opposite effect. After holding my breath for a few beats, I asked him, my voice low and wavering, “Is it really over now? Are we really safe?”

Zeno’s breath grew hot on my neck. “I promise you, Cora, not a soul will hurt you again. I will make certain of that.”

While I wanted to take these words for fact, not question him further, and sink away from this fear, I couldn’t.

“Is this different from the last months in Puglia?” I asked. “Will you fade away from me and stop drinking from me?”

“Itisdifferent.” The answer to my question came immediately, and I wondered if he had been expecting it. Considering how grave and intense his tone was, he must have. “I am having transfusions. I will drink from you when you are well,” Zeno explained. “In the meantime, I will make this abbey impenetrable. I will make you untouchable to anyone but me.”

The intensity of his words took me aback. They were likely meant to inspire certainty from me, to quiet any dissonance, but they had the opposite effect.Hewanted the abbey impenetrable, but did I?

“We should go to town soon,” I suggested. “I haven’t seen it in the summertime before.”

Zeno’s reply was as sudden as it was firm. “That isn’t a good idea. You aren’t well yet. You could get sick, or someone could bump into you and burst open your stitches. I can’t permit that.”

I shrugged, feeling foolish but resolved to continue testing this invisible boundary.

“I’m sure a small bookstore would be safe. It would be nice to have some more books. I think I’ll likely go through them more quickly now—” I cut myself off, but the implication remained. I would go through books more quickly now that I wouldn’t be researching the Medici—a name which used to signify fascination and even adoration, but now served only as the harbinger of nightly terrors.

Despite my ever-growing discomfort, Zeno seemed unmoved, eyes as distant as before.

“We’ll have outings when you’re better,” he said finally. “In the meantime, tell me anything you want. A new library, a closet of dresses, a private theater. As long as you are here and as long as you are safe.”

“Just books are fine,” I muttered, nestling into his chest as an excuse to dismiss myself from that fiery gaze. “Like you said, we’ll go once I’m healed. It’s okay. We have forever, however long that is.”

“Yes,” he echoed. “Forever, however long that is.”