“Spectacles,” said Zofia.
“Never heard of that drinking game.”
“I thought we were putting together the Tezcat spectacles,” said Enrique.
“Not here,” said Séverin, casting an eye to the door. “Too noticeable. Vasiliev’s men could still be out there. We’re going to take the portal to Moscow first.”
“And it’s bad luck to start a journey sober,” added Hypnos. He lifted up the vodka bottle. “Now. To Lady Luck?”
“I don’t see the point of toasting to an anthropomorphization ofchance,” said Zofia. “It doesn’t increase the frequency of its occurrence.”
“And for that, you’re gettingtwoshots,” he said. “Also, do be careful sitting on those wooden crates. They’re old and have a fair number of treacherous splinters.”
Laila sat. She forced herself to smile, but those dolls had shaken her. She turned the garnet ring on her hand:18 days.
We have the Tezcat spectacles, she reminded herself. But her doubts snapped through her hope: What if it didn’t work? How did she know for certain that the secret to life lay in the pages ofThe Divine Lyrics? What if the book had been moved from the Sleeping Palace?
“Laila?” asked Hypnos.
She looked up. She hadn’t been listening.
“We were going to go in order of birthdays. When’s yours?”
“Eighteen days,” she said.
Her stomach turned to say it aloud.
“So soon,ma chère! You should have told me! Will you have a party?”
Or a funeral? she thought. She shook her head as Hypnos put a cold glass in her hand, then handed one to Enrique and—though she scowled—Zofia. Séverin refused. He stood by the hearth, away from the rest of them. Shadows and firelight licked over him, rendering him almost inhuman. The curve of her neck prickled, remembering the near brush of his lips against her skin.Now you’re overselling your part.Séverin’s gaze lifted sharply to hers. A second too late, she turned her head.
“May our ends justify our means,” intoned Hypnos.
Any time she thought of ends, Tristan’s quicksilver smile twisted through her heart. Laila murmured his name under herbreath, then knocked back the icy vodka in one swallow. It tasted like ghosts, she thought, for even after she’d finished her drink, the alcohol lingered bitterly on her tongue.
“L’Chaim,” said Zofia softly, throwing back the vodka.
Enrique drank his, then sputtered, clutching his throat. “That’sdisgusting.”
“Here, have more,” said Hypnos, holding out the bottle. “Enough shots and you won’t taste a thing.”
“I’d like a word alone with my team,” said Séverin quietly. “Go check on the portal, Hypnos.”
Hypnos slowly put the bottle on the ground. The smile slipped off his face.
“Of course,” he said.
When he stood, Enrique caught his hand, squeezing it for a moment before letting go. Laila recognized that longing expression on his face, and it made her pause… It was the same expression he wore when he had become enamored with an idea. Like with his piano playing or his short-lived obsession with bonsai trees that annoyed Tristan to no end. Laila watched as Hypnos absentmindedly smiled at Enrique before turning to his guard and heading to the portal. She was happy for them, of course, but that didn’t stop the pang of misgiving in her heart. Hypnos enjoyed falling in and out of love as if it were a hobby. If someone fell too hard along the way, Laila wasn’t sure he’d stop to care.
Enrique turned to Séverin, his eyes cold. “I think he’s earned his place here by now.”
“He’s earned a place in your bed,” said Séverin. “Not at my table.”
Splotches of red appeared on Enrique’s cheeks. If Séverin noticed this, he ignored it.
“Besides, he’s still part of the Order.”
Laila thought of Hypnos carefully assembling snacks for them in the stargazing room, the sheen of his eyes when he surprised them with everything he’d made and the fall in his shoulders when he realized it wasn’t the surprise he’d intended. She glared up at Séverin.
