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Braxton laughs. “Then you’re definitely in for a treat. It’s a very grand, very old palazzo. Of course, it’s not so old in its timeline, but you know what I mean. The person who runs it is from Gray Wolf.”

“Seriously?” I gape, surprised to hear that’s even a thing.

Braxton nods. “Some people choose to live in another time. And, in certain cases, Arthur provides the housing and funds, in exchange for their hosting us Trippers and introducing us to the sort of people it’s helpful to know.”

Well, look at that.Not only do Trippers disappear, but some choose to leave their own timelines so they can live here, while others forgo the modern world so they can experience life in an ancient one.

“Anyway,” he goes on. “Though the palazzo is pretty special, Arthur agreed to let us spend our first night in Venice.”

“Venice.” I blink. “Like, therealVenice. Not a hologram like last time?”

“Definitely not a hologram.” Braxton laughs. “And I can’t wait to share it with you.”

I gaze at this beautiful boy, and I can hardly believe how lucky I am—how my life is so much better than I ever allowed myself to imagine. And it’s all because of Braxton, and Arthur, and yeah, even Elodie.

Then I lean closer, thread my arms around Braxton’s neck, and press a kiss to that place where his nose takes a bit of a bend. “I’m in,” I say, pulling away. “I guess all good things are worth waiting for, right?”

Braxton grasps hold of my hand, entwining my fingers with his. “There are so many places I can’t wait to share with you,” he says. “And so many people I want you to meet.”

“Like Leonardo?” I tease.

“For starters.” He laughs.

As we make our way to the door, I pause a moment to lift my face to the sky, wishing for one last look at this glorious space before we call it a night.

The storm clouds have gathered again, hanging so low the moon is no longer visible and most of the stars are obscured. So, I lower my gaze and cast another look around the garden, and that’s when I notice something I don’t remember from before.

“What’s that?” I gesture toward a large marble frieze set before a stone wall that’s otherwise covered in flowering vines.

Braxton looks from me to the carved stone medallion with its hollow eyes, prominent nose, and gaping maw of a mouth.

“That’s theBocca della Verità,” he says in what sounds to my ears like perfect Italian.

“Translation?” I move closer to the frieze to get a better look.

I’ve stopped just before it when Braxton says, “The Mouth of Truth.”

I glance over my shoulder, waiting for more.

“It’s a medieval lie detector,” he says. “Would you like to try it?”

I glance between Braxton and the creepy face carved into the marble slab.

“What do you meanmedieval lie detector?” I ask.

Braxton comes to stand beside me. “According to legend, it bites off the hands of liars.”

I gape, sure that he’s joking. Though nothing about his expression is leaning that way.

“It’s said that if you were to stick your hand inside the mouth and tell a lie, it would chomp your hand right off.”

“But that’s impossible.” I let out an unsteady bark of a laugh. “I mean, why would anyone believe that?”

Braxton shrugs. “Superstition is a powerful force. Still, there’s only one way to find out.” He motions toward the stone disc.

He can’t be serious.I study Braxton’s face, wondering if he can sense the wave of panic rising inside me.

“Seeing is believing, right?” He slings an arm around my shoulders and says, “Or, in this case, maybe it’s more like believing is seeing? How about I go first.”