He swiftly made his way to the exit, leaving Enrique to ponder what, exactly, just happened. Self-consciously, he reached up and touched his hair. Itwasnice, he had to admit.
Enrique made his way to the back of the room. The mural Ruslan had mentioned lay half in the shadows. At first, the mural was hard to discern amongst the clutter of the room. It merely looked like ugly wallpaper. But the closer he got, the more the images made themselves known. The mural showed dark-skinned villagers holding out a basket of tea leaves, and pale-skinned soldiers, priests, and kings extending their arms to receive the gift. Natives and Europeans. It wasn’t an unfamiliar pattern, but as Enrique stared at it, he felt the quiet panic that had haunted him since childhood. Where did he exist in this arrangement? He stared at the empty middle ground of the painting, and a familiar ache settled in his chest.
There was danger in not belonging. He’d learned that at a young age in the fish markets of the Philippines. When his mother had taken him, he’d lost her in the sea of people. He remembered running up and down the market aisle, the smell of fish and vinegar stinging his eyes. Finally, he’d spotted her in her bright pink dress, turning wildly in the market, her basket swinging from her arm as she called his name.
“Mama—” he cried, pointing.
A woman grabbed hold of his hand, caught sight of his mother, and laughed. “That can’t be your mother, you look nothing alike! Come now, I’ll take you to the Civil Guard—”
He howled in terror, and only then did his mother see him and fetch him, folding him against her where he sobbed and refused to be put down. Later, she laughed off the incident, but all he saw was her brown face, and how dark her arms looked next to his. He had the shape of her eyes and the curve of her smile and her habit of hoarding pillows… but something about him was not enough to belong to her.
Enrique was still staring at the painting when he heard the door open once more. Hypnos grinned at him as he made a quick scan of the room.
“Is anyone else here?”
“No,” said Enrique.
“Good.”
Hypnos crossed the room in quick strides and kissed him. The kiss sent a sparkle through his body, and Enrique savored the slow melt of it. It was a welcome distraction, and he leaned into it with the greed of someone starved. Hypnos drew away first, though his thumb rested at the nape of Enrique’s neck, tracing small circles against his skin. Enrique didn’t know what possessed him that next moment. Perhaps he was still shaken from thetroikafire, or disturbed by the mural on the wall… or maybe drawn in by the other boy’s hypnotic touch.
“I don’t just want furtive kisses or meetings of convenience,” said Enrique in a rush. “The others already know about us… What if we made it more public?”
Hypnos’s fingers stilled. “Why?”
“Why not?” asked Enrique. And then, feeling foolish, he added,“If we find what we’re looking for, everything could return to normal. Séverin would come back to his senses. You could officially be part of the team, and we could be together too.”
He trailed off, staring at the floor until he felt Hypnos’s hand tip up his chin.
“That isn’t my usual arrangement, you know,” said Hypnos gently. “But I could be tempted. Let’s see how this job goes first, shall we?”
That was fair enough, thought Enrique. Though he caught something like guilt in Hypnos’s eyes, and he couldn’t fathom why.
“Would I have to move into L’Eden just to be part of the team?” asked Hypnos. “Because I quite like my living arrangements.”
Enrique laughed and shook his head, just as Hypnos’s arms tightened around him. Enrique squeezed his eyes shut, imagining what it would be like not to feel this ache in his soul where some part of him always felt wanting. When he lifted his head, he caught a flash of golden hair in the doorway.
“Zofia?”
Hypnos released him, and Zofia stepped inside, looking somewhat stiff as she stared at them.
“I’m here for the meeting,” she said tersely.
Hypnos smiled as he flounced into one of the silk chaises, absentmindedly picking up one of the objects on the nearest shelves and jangling it like a toy.
“That’s a Tibetan prayer wheel!” said Enrique, snatching it from his hands. “And very old by the looks of it.”
“I was merely praying for respite from my impending boredom,” said Hypnos.
“How can you possibly be bored?” asked Enrique. “Yesterday, we almost died by fire.”
“Not true,” said Zofia.
“Not all of us are optimists—”
“Asphyxiation would have killed you first,” she said. “Not the flames.”
Hypnos snorted. “Ah,ma chère, never change.”
