“I would not waste an incendiary pendant,” said Zofia grimly.
As they made their way to the library, Enrique dodged planners and artisans, napping ice bears and a trio of crystal swans whose translucent feathers had been edged in silver. In the atrium, a huge podium had been erected for the Midnight Auction. Servants who had arrived early from the various Houses bustled about, carrying platters of quartz flutes filled with chilled ice wine. Once, the sightwould have dazzled Enrique, but now he hardly cared. He refused to believe that everything they had seen—the handless women, the muses with their blank stares and broken objects—had been for nothing. He refused to believe that Laila had only a handful of days left to live. And he refused to believe that Séverin didn’t have another plan hiding up his sleeve.
Inside the library, the statues of the muses gleamed. Slabs of ice tables lined the floor where there had once been nothing but empty corridor space. Treasures lay piled atop the surfaces, each of them affixed with neat, white labels for the auctioneer to read. Another time, Enrique would have stopped and marveled at the objects he glimpsed—objects which had been deemed lost by the whole of the historical society—but that was before he saw Séverin.
In the midst of all that treasure, he looked like something out of myth, and Enrique was reminded of how deceptive myths could be. When Enrique was seven years old, he thought he’d seen asiyokoy, a merman. This man clambered to the top of a cliff, looking out onto the ocean. He wore no shirt and around his neck lay strings of pearls. On his fingers, countless rings. His pants sagged with sea rocks, and a hundred silk scarves hung through his belt loops. At the time, Enrique stood with his family on a listingparawboat, celebrating his mother’s birthday. He’d called out excitedly, “The sea king!”
In his mind, only a man laden with treasure could be a sea king.
But that was not what his family saw. His father had panicked, screaming to the man to stop, towait… His mother crossed herself, folding Enrique against her so he wouldn’t see. He pushed against her hold, desperate to see the sea king, but all he heard was the splash of water and his father’s anguished yell. It was weeks later that Enrique understood the man had drowned himself. Heheard the whispers—the man’s whole family had perished in a recent typhoon. At the time, Enrique didn’t understand how a man laden with treasure could be so poor in life as to choose death. He was reminded of it now when he looked at Séverin, sitting in a room full of treasure with his eyes full of nothing.
All this time, Enrique had suspected that Séverin wantedThe Divine Lyricsas the last, crushing blow to the Fallen House… but he looked as stricken as Laila, as if he’d lost his whole life. Something about it didn’t fit right in his mind.
Wordlessly, Séverin pointed to a heavy tome situated on the table nearest him.
“Go ahead and look,” rasped Séverin.
Enrique approached cautiously while Zofia trailed behind him.
As Enrique had suspected, there was some tracing of gold on the cover, and it was certainly made of animal skin. The dimensions were quite large for a book, and there was the suggestion of buckles along the binding, almost as if it was intended to be a book that held something within. Pressed into the surface was a burned marking… like a small, slantedW. The image bothered him, but he didn’t know why he recognized it. Within the book lay nothing but empty space, with the vaguest depressions of something having been inside of it that was no longer there.
Enrique swallowed hard, letting his fingers coast down the spine.
“What if we’ve missed something?” he asked. “Maybe if we—”
“There’s no point,” said Séverin. “There’s nothing left.”
He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t even make eye contact. But the air bent around him, and it was like skittering away from a sudden opening in the world. Enrique felt his face flush red. He wanted to scream at him. He wanted to tell him that Laila woulddie without their help. But in the end, his promise to her kept him silent.
Séverin rose from his seat. From the pocket of his jacket, he withdrew an envelope and handed it to Zofia.
“This came for you,” he said tonelessly. “You can return to your sister as early as tomorrow. It doesn’t matter.”
Zofia took it, the line between her brows furrowing.
“Congratulations to us all,” said Séverin tonelessly. “We found one of the greatest collections of treasures man has ever known.”
Just as Séverin made his way to the door, Hypnos appeared at the threshold looking out of breath and confused.
“I was wondering where everyone went,” he said, turning an accusing eye to Enrique. “I thought you and Zofia would come back, but you never did. If I’d known you were going to see Séverin, I would have joined you immediately.”
Enrique felt Hypnos’s words settle heavily inside him. Was Séverin the only reason he would have joined them?
Séverin pushed past him.
“Where are you going?” asked Hypnos. “We have to get ready for the celebrations later!”
Séverin walked out the door, leaving Hypnos to groan and throw up his hands. He adjusted his suit, took a deep breath, and made to go after Séverin when something in Enrique forced him to call out, “Wait!”
Hypnos looked at him, irritation flashing across his face.
“What is it, mon cher? Can it wait?”
Enrique felt a lump in his throat as he made his way to Hypnos. He felt, suddenly, foolish. The shadows of today curled darkly in his heart, and he craved the light and warmth of another person before he threw himself into examining the treasures. He thoughtHypnos would have recognized that plea in his face, but the other boy hadn’t noticed. In fact, Hypnos looked ready to bolt.
“I could use your help?”
Even as he asked, he knew the answer.
