Page 146 of Dissection of Immortal Hearts

Jasmina showed her to a guest room and let her settle in. Amelia surveyed yet another unfamiliar space she’d been forced to occupy over the past few months.

Pressed against the wall was a double bed, and opposite it stood a wardrobe, a vanity with a mirror, and a TV. It was nothing like the tall, pointed windows and fairy-tale details of the rooms in the Hospital, but at least it was bright, unlike the oppressive darkness of Antambazi, and far more modern and well-maintained than the cabin. The touch of human hands was clear in the choice of rustic landscapes for the wall paintings. Amelia wondered how Presiyan had acquired this winery.

When she opened the wardrobe, she discovered several pairs of tight trousers and cropped tops in Jasmina’s style, with underwear on the middle shelf and boots at the bottom.

She took a shower and changed before heading back downstairs. Amelia found the spacious room on the lower floor where Jasmina had said they’d gather in the evening. Her boots clicked against the stone floor as she walked past wooden tables and benches. A long bar with bottles of wine stretched along the right wall.

All the tables were empty except for one. Presiyan and Mikhail were talking loudly.

“Where is everyone?” she asked.

“Zacharia is resting. Viktor will be here soon. Callan is…away on somebusiness.” Mikhail rolled his eyes.

Amelia waited, expecting him to elaborate, but Presiyanslapped him on the back playfully. “Let the boy have some fun! I’m sure he’s catching up on lost time.” He winked at Amelia. “Bet you the ladies of the twenty-first century are just his type.”

Amelia had suspected Callan was ‘catching up on lost time’, but she’d imagined it would be through books, languages, places, and events – not with ladies.

“I’d throw a feast if that were the case,” Mikhail said.

Amelia shot him a look. “What’s that supposed to mean? Are you implying he’s plotting with the Queen behind our backs? If so, why would he give me the watch? Not to mention, if his goal had been to kill me and take the necklace, he could have done so on any of the past nights, with no need to attack me with harpies.”

Presiyan grinned. “Maybe he was worried you’d roast him with your hands?”

She hopped over the bench and sat down opposite them. “He didn’t know I could.”

“Neither did I.” The reproach in Presiyan’s tone didn’t escape her.

Amelia frowned. The two of them seemed to be competing for the title of Most Annoying Man, each obsessively trying to control everything.

“Because we figured it would be better not to tell anyone,” Mikhail said. “Today wasn’t the day for sharing, either.”

Amelia stared at him from across the table. “Today didn’t seem like the best day for a mass slaughter of harpies, but I’m not the one deciding.”

“All right, all right.” Presiyan raised his palms. “You did a good job, regardless of your reason for keeping this recentdevelopmenta secret. The cat’s out of the bag now.”

Amelia shrugged. “There was no way to hide something like that forever.”

“We also don’t need to be as cautious anymore,” Mikhailsaid, “since you’ve clearly learned to control yourself. It was dangerous when you had no control.”

She wasn’t sure if she had controlnow, but during the fight earlier, she’d felt as if she did.

Presiyan pulled out his phone. “Bring the reptilian,” he instructed someone.

Amelia took the opportunity to ask Mikhail about Zacharia’s condition.

“He’ll be fine,” he said.

The coolness of his tone irked her. “He’s my friend, too, you know?”

“I figured that out when he first showed up at the cabin and you threw yourself at him.” The golden hue in Mikhail’s eyes darkened for a second, but when he shifted his focus back to Presiyan, his expression seemed calm.

Amelia turned her head towards the empty fireplace, pursing her lips. And immediately, faced Mikhail again. Was she imagining it, or was he… jealous?

“The reptilian claims Constantine is imprisoned in Antambazi,” he was addressing Presiyan. “We must extract him as soon as possible.”

At least they agreed on this.

Presiyan stroked his missing moustache with his thumb and forefinger. “Hmm…”