Chapter Two: The Price of One Person

Lin dragged Roman outside before the watch-shop door locked itself. “Marguerite's voice is in there,” he protested. “I haven't heard it in seven years.” “The card doesn't promise to play it. It asks you to surrender it.” “Voices fade after people die.” Anger sharpened his face. “Who are you to decide what I must remember?” Lin released him. Seven years ago she had told her sister something similar: Your life is not my responsibility. Lin Yao had flown to Europe the next morning and never returned. The House Without Dreams had a dark red carpet, blue fire, and nine guest portraits above an empty desk. Jonas assigned rooms and tried to pocket the extra key. Lin held out her hand. “It's a spare,” he said. “Then you won't mind.”