“Both.”
Ruslan raised the platter. “It looks like the Midnight Auction got delayed, and I thought you might want some food and company?”
Enrique flashed a tight smile. Truthfully, he didn’t want to waste a second that could spare Laila pain. And if he was going to work with anyone, it was Zofia.
“That’s kind of you,” he said.
“… but not particularly wanted?” prompted Ruslan, his smile tugging down. “It’s quite all right, I understand. I figured once I saw the state of your hair, which, forgive me, is exquisitely dismal—”
“No, please,” said Enrique, remembering himself. “Come in.You have every right to be here. You’re the patriarch who commissioned the expedition, after all.”
Still, Ruslan didn’t move, and Enrique had a sudden feeling that he had said precisely the wrong thing.
“I would rather rely on the strength of my personality than my privilege,” said Ruslan quietly.
Enrique softened. He looked back at the table full of artifacts and sighed. Perhaps Ruslan could be of help. Séverin used to be strict about who was allowed to assist them, but these days Séverin was a ghost who couldn’t even muster the interest to haunt them.
“I could use the help,” said Enrique.
Ruslan gave a little hop of joy and then followed Enrique inside.
“What are you examining?” asked Ruslan, eyeing the table.
Enrique pointed at the symbol he’d found on the muses’ palms and the outside of the box they had mistaken forThe Divine Lyrics:
“That’s what we’re looking for, but on one of the other objects,” explained Enrique. “I think it might be the actual symbol ofThe Divine Lyrics. The book that Séverin and Hypnos found was hollow, so perhaps it’s not a book at all? Or a book inside of a book? I’m not sure.”
Ruslan seemed to absorb this carefully. “You think it may not be a book? Why?”
“Well, the word itself was an incomplete translation,” said Enrique. “As far as we know, we only have the letters:THE DIVINE LYRto explain what it is… which may not be a full picture. There’s certain iconographical missteps that keep leaping out to me, but I don’t know what it means. For example, all the muses in this room are carrying broken objects, which was identical to what we saw when we followed the Tezcat portal to Istanbul. We know the Lost Muses guardedThe Divine Lyrics, and we know their bloodline allowed them to read the book. Perhaps that’s what connects the paintings in Istanbul and”—Enrique crossed himself—“the dead girls in the grotto. Their hands had been removed, perhaps as a nod to restraining their power from, I don’t know, holding the book? Turning its pages? It’s still unclear to me, but it demonstrates restraint of power—”
Abruptly, Enrique stopped. He felt a twinge of self-consciousness when he spoke. He didn’t normally talk that long before most people told him to stop. Laila never did, of course, but he could always tell when she grew bored because her gaze went unfocused… and then Zofia. Well, actually, Zofia always leaned forward. Zofia always listened.
“I apologize,” he said quickly. “I sometimes get carried away with my thoughts.”
He looked at Ruslan, and saw that he wasrapt. The sight was deeply humbling.
And deeply awkward.
“Er, if you want to help, could you start by picking up the objects on the far right side of the table to look for the symbol?” asked Enrique. “Some of them are a little dirty and need to be cleaned beforehand.”
“Oh, of course!” said Ruslan, hopping to the table once more. He reached for the jar of feathers.
“I must say, I’m always a little shocked to hear you speak… You’re so eloquent that it’s, um—”
Dazzling? Awe-inspiring? wondered Enrique. He puffed out his chest a bit.
“Confusing,” said Ruslan.
Well, never mind.
“Confusing?” repeated Enrique.
“A bit, yes. I heard about your meeting with the Ilustrados in Paris—”
Enrique froze at the mention. All over again, he remembered standing in the auditorium, the empty table and the cooling food. The way every sound outside the hallway brought a shock of hopeful nerves.
“—something about not feeling up to the task of lecturing; although, it was very kind of you to send each of them a check,” said Ruslan, shrugging. “I thought perhaps you’d just been nervous, or perhaps not as eloquent as you’d hoped, and that’s why you cancelled the meeting.”
