“—impossible to detect without locating the center of the logarithm spiral!”
“Okay, butafterthat. That was me! Why can’t we share credit fifty-fifty?”
“If you would like to divide this up statistically, I am entitled to seventy-five percent.”
“Seventy-five?”
Laila smiled, occasionally smoothing Tristan’s hair from his forehead even as he fussed and protested.
“I’m hungry,” sighed Enrique. “A bone-in steak would be perfection.”
The others gave him strange looks. He looked around the catacombs and shrugged.
“What? I’m hungry. What about you, Tristan? What do you want?”
“This,” Tristan said quietly. “Just this.”
PART VI
From the archival records of the Order of BabelThe Origins of Empire
Master Emanuele Orsatti, House Orcus of the Order’s Italy faction 1878, reign of King Umberto I
Ithink the greatest power is belief, for what is a god without it?
33
ENRIQUE
Enrique opened a gift box sent from Laila. Nestled inside a swath of inky silk lay a golden wolf mask, one that left the lower half of his face free. The mask had been expertly Forged, and the short, gleaming hairs bristled, as if touched by an invisible wind. Enrique half wondered if the second he put it on, he’d start howling. Tucked behind the mask was a short letter from Laila:
For the Palais’s full moon party tonight… may it be the start of a new phase for us all.
He grinned despite himself. Tomorrow, Hypnos and the matriarch of House Kore would come to the hotel and reissue the inheritance test to Séverin. Everything was changing. He could almost see it in the air, like the afterburn of the sun pressing against his closed eyes.
All the more reason to celebrate.
Yet, he couldn’t leave behind what had happened in the catacombs. A week had passed, and yet every night, he jolted awake, the stench of something burning in his nose… the silk sheets beneathhis hand feeling like damp, bone-studded dirt. According to Séverin, the Order had already begun their interrogation of the caught Fallen House members, and there was another object the group had been searching for: an ancient book known only asThe Divine Lyrics.
Enrique rummaged through the papers on his desk, ignoring the latest rejection letter fromLa Solidaridadand the hasty invitation to tea from the Ilustrados… something about the name of that title nudged at the dark of his thoughts. But then the clock struck, and he let out a curse. He could search later.
For now, he had a party to get to.
Enrique tied the mask’s ribbons around his neck and entered the hall. The carriage would be waiting for them downstairs, and if they got there early enough, he might have time to eat an entire bowl of chocolate-covered strawberries. Just before he got to the staircase, a familiar silhouette made him stop short. “Don’t you have your own house?”
“Hello to you too,” huffed Hypnos. “As a matter of fact, I have procured a permanent set of suites in L’Eden. I imagine I’ll keep seeing more of you anyway.”
“You’re like a plague.”
“What was that? I’m all the rage?” Hypnos cupped a hand to his ear, then grinned.
Enrique rolled his eyes.
“Well, I have to stay here. On officialOrder business. It’s my duty as the patriarch of House Nyx.”
From the other side of the hall, Zofia emerged, dressed in her usual black leather smock and a tight-fitting cap that let out a single curl of candlelight hair. Wherever Zofia went, she carried that laboratory scent with her, as if she were always faintly burning. It was beginning to grow on him.
“Tell me you’re not wearing that to the Palais party,” said Hypnos, horrified.
