Zofia perched on a nearby stool, her posture like that of an aerialist.
“Don’t say that,” said Zofia, sounding rather glum. “Change is the only constant.”
“Well—” Hypnos started, and then stopped and stood abruptly. “Madame Desrosiers.”
The matriarch of House Kore stood in the doorway, wrapped in her expensive furs. She was someone whose very impression felttall. It reminded him, oddly enough, of his mother. His father teasingly called his motherDoñabecause she could wear a rice sack and still look noble. Even in her letters to him, she managed to sound commanding and intimidating, always ranting about how he was running around Paris for no reason when there were beautiful girls at home waiting for him, and how this behavior was exceedingly disappointing, and also was he eating enough, and do remember evening prayers, Love,Ma.
“I don’t believe we’ve formally met,” said Enrique. “I’m—”
“The one who posed as a botanist expert and set fire to my garden last spring?”
Enrique gulped and sat.
“And the ‘Baronness Sofia Ossokina’?” asked the matriarch, raising an eyebrow at Zofia.
Zofia blew out her match, not bothering to answer to the fake name she’d used when they had stolen into the Château de la Lune last spring.
“I am surrounded by deception,” said the matriarch.
“And chairs,” pointed out Zofia.
“On that note, won’t you have a seat?” asked Hypnos.
“I think not,” said the matriarch, examining her fingernails. “I have already summoned the patriarch of House Dazbog and one of his representatives to join us in what might possibly be a fool’s errand to the supposed coordinates of the Sleeping Palace. We leave for Irkutsk in two hours. You may have solved the Tezcat spectacles, but that could’ve been sheer luck. I need to know why I should listen to an impudent girl and”—her gaze cut to Enrique—“a boystillin need of a haircut.”
One corner of Enrique’s heart yelled,Mother!The other corner seethed as he flattened down his hair.
“… I lost my comb,” he muttered, self-conscious.
“And I have lost my patience,” she said.
“Where’s Séverin and Laila?” asked Hypnos.
“Off ‘discussing,’” said the matriarch, snorting. “As if I don’t know what that means.”
Zofia frowned, obviously lost as to what else discussing could have meant.
“You have managed to earn my protection as a matriarch of the Order of Babel. But you have not earned my confidence.”
Hypnos cleared his throat. “Ialso have offered protection—”
“Yes, my dear, I noticed with the flamingtroikathe precise range of your protection.”
Hypnos’s cheeks turned a shade darker.
“What kind of intelligence have you gathered concerning the Sleeping Palace?”
The group looked to one another and said nothing. The truth was that there were no blueprints of the Sleeping Palace. TheFallen House had managed to destroy the records, which meant that for all intents and purposes, they were going into this excursion blind. Delphine must have caught that from their expressions because her gaze narrowed.
“I see,” she said. “And what—besides the ramblings of a dying, broken man—makes you so certain then that therearetreasures in the Sleeping Palace?”
“It…” started Hypnos, before trailing off, “… would be a terrible waste of space without… treasure?”
Zofia said nothing.
“No historical records of confirmation?” asked Delphine, her gaze zeroing in on Enrique. “Then what do you have?”
Enrique pressed the dossier of papers tighter against him. All he could tell was the truth, so he did. “Ghost stories.”
