Steal their imagination.
She hovered on her heels, knees bent in nritta while the pleated emerald of her skirt fanned out. The music grew faster. The rhythm turned urgent.
She flicked her gaze toward the concealed glass key in her hand. Séverin’s head moved. Just barely. But she knew he understood. He reached into the basket. Around him, the others did the same.
The music turned faster, building into a climax. Finally, Laila looked directly at him and nearly fumbled. Séverin looked undone. His gaze lit up her skin. She forced herself into the movement, flicking up her fingers… a signal.
Séverin tossed the blossoms into the air. The other guests, seeing him do so, followed his movements. A shower of petals rained down, catching in her lashes like snow, brushing silkily against her lips. Laila extended her arm in a flourishing final arc of movement, tossing the key.
It sailed through the air.
Séverin caught it between his palms. A clap. Laila could picture his eyes perfectly, even though she couldn’t see them. His dusk-colored gaze darkening, fixed on her. Laila knew she should look at the other audience members, but she couldn’t look anywhere but at him, and she didn’t want him looking at anyone but her.
As the room burst into applause, the man sitting behind Séverin caught her gaze. He wore a mustard-colored suit, his body entirely too still. Laila shuddered as she walked off the stage. He’d hunched over Séverin like a wraith… or a beast on the verge of attack.
17
ZOFIA
Zofia checked the clock. Séverin was late. Already, there was less than an hour before she had to get ready for the ball, and if she didn’t have a cast molding of the key, there was no point. It was too bad the matriarch didn’t use a handprint to open her vaults… she could have used her refined Streak of Sia formula. Then again, she didn’t have any of the critical ingredients. They were all back in her laboratory at L’Eden.
Zofia forced herself to sit in one of the corners of the room. It wouldn’t help to pace. Half of any acquisition was just the long,longstretches of waiting. But all that waiting only brought them closer to their goal.
One more day.
One more day, and then all of this would be behind them.
By midnight, they would be in the vault. With the location of the Horus Eye secured, it was just a matter of taking the object off a shelf. It was a small thing, but with large consequences. Once theEye was acquired, everything could change… she could pay off her debts and her sister could finally start medical school. When Séverin became a patriarch, he’d have the strings of the world in his hand, and he might even be able to reverse her expulsion from university.
When her parents were still alive, they said that fear grew in places unlit by knowledge. Perhaps if she had more knowledge, then she would not know fear. She could become a scientist or a professor… someone who spent her life rooting out the dark unknown with the light of knowledge. She could be like her parents. Like her sister. She could walk down a street or through a crowd. She wouldn’t know that tight, breath-pulling sensation of drowning, all because someone had asked about her day and she didn’t know how to answer.
Knowledge would make her brave.
And more than anything, Zofia wanted to be brave.
But she was learning how to fit. Or, at least, imitate it. On the other side of the room, her wardrobe faced her. A sable gown hung off the frame. Her outfit for the evening’s ball. It’d taken hours to figure out how to make herself ready without Laila, but she’d finally managed.
Just then, Séverin walked inside and quickly shut the door behind him.
Zofia stood. “You’re late.”
Séverin did not look like himself. He looked out of breath. Wild-eyed. Frustrated. Laila was supposed to give him the key. Had something gone wrong? Panic struck Zofia.
“Is Laila harmed?”
At her name, spots of color appeared on Séverin’s face.
“Your face is red.”
Séverin cleared his throat. “I was walking fast. And no, Laila looks fine. I mean, she is fine. Never mind. I’m fine. Everything is—”
“Fine?”
“Yes,” said Séverin. He handed her the key. “She had to use a different method of delivery to get the key to me.”
That was an easy explanation. Though it did not explain why Séverin looked so strange. Zofia took the key and went straight to the fireplace where a chunk of zinc had been melted. From her wardrobe, she pulled out a cast molding from the bottom cabinet of her drawer, prepping the molding.
Séverin leaned against the wall, dragging his hand down his face.
