Hypnos’s comment was a test. The matriarch must not have disclosed to the Order that the Ring had been stolen. Her words were proof that she too thought the theft had been an inside job.
“Of course,” said Hypnos brightly.
“May I speak frankly with you?” asked the matriarch.
Séverin could sense the hesitation in his voice. But Hypnos answered, “Of course. What are old friends for?”
The matriarch took a deep breath. “I know you are aware my Ring has been stolen.”
Hypnos feigned a gasp, but the matriarch must have cut him off.
“Don’t humiliate me,” she snapped. “Every member of my House that I trust has been searching for it… I am not asking for you to set your own guards to finding it, but I ask that you keep your wits about you. I know we’ve had our differences, but this… this damage that might be wrought would affect far more than just us.”
“I know,” said Hypnos solemnly.
“Very well,” said the matriarch. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”
Séverin listened for the sound of something clicking open. The massive doors of the library unlocking. Moments turned into minutes. Hypnos started tapping his foot. After exactly nine minutes and forty-five seconds, the door to the library opened once more.
“Shall we?” asked Hypnos.
The matriarch said nothing. Perhaps she had taken his arm. Séverin heard their footsteps quickly approaching.
He opened his watch, taking out some mirror powder. He smeared it onto his fingers, dragged them down the wall behind him, and touched his clothes. Instantly, his clothing shimmered, turning the same brocade pattern as the wall. The disguise would last for little over a minute—all he needed. Séverin propped up his foot, ready. But the matriarch stopped just outside the thread, as if to catch her breath.
This was not part of the plan.
“It’s beautiful, is it not?” asked the matriarch.
“Yes, yes, it is—”
Irritation flickered in Hypnos’s voice. Séverin’s fingers twitched. He glanced at his watch. He hadn’t been able to get another order of mirror powder in time, and that was all that was left. His clothing shimmered. Less than thirty seconds, and it would vanish. They would see him.
Ten seconds left.
The servants walked past.
Four seconds.
Hypnos escorted the matriarch. Séverin willed himself to breathe, not to let his hands get damp and soak up what remained of the mirror powder.
Three seconds.
The matriarch was about to cross the glass thread. Séverin lifted his shoe. Right on time, she tripped. Hypnos caught her before she fell, but her dress had billowed, lifting high enough to reveal her shoes. Séverin looked intently for the one sign that would have proved his theory, and found it: mud.
“Are you quite all right?” asked Hypnos.
Hypnos crushed the glass thread, spinning the matriarch so herback faced Séverin just as the last traces of powder vanished from his fingertips.
WHEN SÉVERIN ENTEREDhis room at two thirty in the morning, he found his bed occupied.
“Flattered as I am, get out.”
Enrique clutched a pillow.
“No. It’s deliriously comfortable.”
“You know I hate when my pillows get warm.”
