“Séverin… what are we going to do? Enrique told us what happened back there.”
Enrique blushed a guilty red and took a well-timed gulp of tea.
“You’reboundto Hypnos,” said Laila.
He flexed his fingers, watching his scar stretch.
“What happens next is not up to me,” he said. “This won’t be like our acquisitions of the past. It’ll be even more dangerous. And if you choose a different path, I won’t hold it against you. I’ll deactivate the oath tattoos and pay you accordingly.”
Séverin didn’t trust himself to look at them until he heard Enrique’s resigned sigh.
“I’m in,” said Enrique, after a long moment.
“Me too,” said Laila.
Zofia nodded her assent.
Tristan swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the counter. He took the longest to raise his gaze to Séverin and nod.
A hot pain spread through Séverin’s chest. No physical ache, but the ripping teeth of something cruel.Hope. He refused to show it. Instead, he forced a smile.
“Good. Now. To get the Horus Eye out of the vault, we have to focus on two things. First, finding the Eye’s exact location inside Kore’s vault. For that, we’re going to need the catalogue coin so we’ll be paying a visit to our old friend, the House Kore courier. Thanks to Laila, we know exactly where he’ll be tomorrow.”
“The Palais des Rêves,” said Laila, smiling.
Enrique made a high-pitched sound. “Wait, no! I want to go there! It’s the party of the year!”
Zofia frowned. “What’s so great about a party?”
“It’s going to belavish,” said Enrique, sighing.
“Who said I can get any of you in?” asked Laila.
“Wait wait wait…How, exactly, are you planning on getting the House Kore courier to part with his catalogue coin?” asked Enrique. “We couldn’t even find it when we needed it for the auction.”
“That’s where the Sphinx mask comes into play, courtesy of Zofia. I pose as a Sphinx. But I’ll need someone dressed as a Sûretéofficer.”
The Sûretéwas the detective branch of the armed forces. The only ones authorized to hold an Order member in for questioning. Séverin turned to Tristan, who groaned.
“Whyme?”
“You have an excellent face.”
“What’s wrong with my face?” demanded Enrique. “Can I go?”
“He wants to go!” pointed out Tristan. “Why can’t he go?”
“Because I chose you.”
Enrique whined, “Séverin doesn’t think I’m pretty.”
“Séverin, tell him he’s pretty,” said Laila.
Séverin crossed his arms. “Zofia, tell him he’s pretty.”
Zofia didn’t look up from her tea. “I am personally undecided, but if we’re assessing based on objectivity, then according to the principles of the golden ratio, also known asphi, which is approximately 1.618, your facial beauty is mathematically pleasing.”
“I’m swooning,” grumbled Enrique.
