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“What?”

He makes his meaning clear, however, by pushing me forward without ceremony. The woman turns her gaze to me instead, and upon closer inspection, I realize her eyes don’t have pupils or sclera. I try and fail not to stare. The gray smoke simply swirls, uninterrupted, throughout the whole of them, each lid fringed with pale lashes. They linger curiously on my crimson dress as I drop into a curtsy. “Bonjour, mademoiselle,” I say, studying her through my own lashes in fascination. She looks almost like a melusine with her monochromatic complexion, but I’ve never seen a melusine with eyes like hers. Ihaveheard whispers of melusines who possess the gift of Sight, however. Though rare, they must exist; their queen is an oracle, after all—theOracle—a goddess of the sea who glimpses tides of the future.

Straightening, I smile wider now. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

With a small, enigmatic smile of her own, she says to Michal, “You know the rules, roi sombre. The maiden is not welcome here.”

“The maiden is with me. That makes her welcome.”

He speaks the words coldly, absolutely, as only a king could, and my chest pinches unexpectedly as his cruel mask slips back into place. As his eyes flatten to terrifying black, as his face hardens into that of the vampire I met aboard the ship and in the aviary. Gone is the spark of interest, the reluctant amusement. This is the Michal I know. No—this is the Michal heis.

It takes several seconds for me to realize what the woman said.The maiden is not welcome here.An odd sentiment, as I do not know her at all. Could she mean—arehumansnot welcome here either?

Those eerie eyes study Michal for several seconds more—orat least, I think they do—before flicking once more to me. “Very well.” She inclines her head in submission. “Bonjour, Eve.” When she presents the apple to me with both hands, her fingers have one too many knuckles.Definitely a melusine.In water, webs will grow between those long fingers. Her legs will transform into fins. “Will you partake of the apple and gain the Knowledge of Good and Evil, or will you resist temptation and seek Paradise?”

I tear my gaze away, blinking rapidly. Because something justmovedin her eyes—something shapeless and shadowed at first, but growing clearer each second. Something familiar. No.Someonefamiliar. But—that can’t be. I shake my head to clear it, and when I risk another look, the melusine’s eyes are clouded once more. I must’ve imagined the face I saw there.

“Will you partake of the apple,” she repeats, her voice a touch louder now, “and gain the Knowledge of Good and Evil, or will you resist temptation and seek Paradise?”

Clearly, she expects an answer.

Focus, Célie.

I look determinedly at the apple now instead of her eyes. I know this story, of course, and it doesn’t end well:Now the serpent was more subtle than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made.The melusine even wears swathes of iridescent black fabric to complete the effect; they glisten like scales in the candlelight, stark against her white skin. She is paler than even Michal.

“This is blasphemous,” I whisper to him, ignoring the eager flutter in my belly. We stand in a metaphorical Eden, which means the stairs to my left must lead to Les Abysses, while the stairs on my right must lead to Paradise. All I need to do is partake of the apple like Eve, who cursed the whole of humanity in a moment ofweakness, and we can be on our merry way.

To the Abyss.

Hesitating, I crane my neck to peer into the shadows below.It’s just a clever metaphor, I remind myself quickly.It isn’t actually Hell.And yet... “What does shemeanby ‘gain the Knowledge of Good and Evil’?” I ask Michal.

“Just what she said. If you eat the apple, you gain truth but lose eternity. If you resist temptation, you enter Paradise.”

“You couldn’t bemorevague, could you? There are parts of this I still grasp.”

He clicks his tongue impatiently. “You’re stalling, pet. Make your decision.”

“The decision is already made, though, isn’t it? We need to go below.” I exhale a shaky breath, still hesitating to take the apple. This situation—though different—reminds me of another on the shores of L’Eau Melancolique. If I learned anything from those mysterious waters, it was that the truth isn’t always helpful. It isn’t always kind. “I just— I want to understand. What will happen after I bite the apple? What does ‘gain truth’ mean?”

“It means something different to everyone.” When I continue to gaze at him, expectant, his tone grows rather scathing, and irritation pricks my chest at the sound of it. “After you bite the apple, our lovely pythoness, Eponine”—he gestures to the melusine, who still watches us—“will tell you a truth about yourself. Is that clear enough?”

Oh, it’s perfectly clear now, and I don’t like it one bit.

“Haveyoupartaken of the apple before?” I ask with a note of accusation.

“Many times.” As before, his lips twist into a not-quite smile.“For example, our pythoness once predicted that I would take a bride—a mortal woman with hair of onyx and eyes of emerald, not unlike yourself.” My cheeks blaze instantly at the ridiculous image—at the two of us,together, bound forever in holy matrimony—before he reaches out without warning, tucking a strand of hair almost affectionately behind my ear. His black eyes glitter with malice. “She also predicted that I’d kill her.”

“What?”

When I recoil from him, horrified, he drops his hand and chuckles darkly. “Then again, five hundred years ago, she told Odessa that she’d fall in love with a bat. To my knowledge, that hasn’t yet happened. Now, shall we stand here debating Eponine’s ploys for the rest of the night, or have you made your decision?”

Eponine’s smile does not falter. “They are not ploys, roi sombre, and that is not all I told you about your bride.”

The last of Michal’s laughter fades at that. “And as I toldyou,” he says softly, “it will not happen.”

“The future oft reveals itself in strange and unexpected ways.”

“Take the apple, Célie,” Michal says, abruptly curt, “and let us be done with this.”