The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves #1)(43)

Séverin took his invitation, pushing down twinges of relief, guilt, and, though he hated it, outrage. All this time and all that he’d done, and the Order had never once looked his way. His guilt was sharper, though. His mother’s Algerian bloodline showed only subtly in his features, but otherwise he could hide in plain sight as a Frenchman. Others could not.

“And finally, an invitation for the Russian Baroness Sophia Ossokina.”

Zofia looked around the room even though Hypnos held the card out to her. “Me?”

“Oui.”

“I’m to be a Russian baroness?”

Zofia might be wandering in a cloud when it came to politics, but under Tzar Alezander, Russia had no love for Jews, and she had no love for Russia.

“You’ll be grand,” said Hypnos, tossing the invitation into her lap.

With nothing left in his hands, Hypnos glanced down at them, unsure of what to do next. He clasped them behind his back. It looked painfully childish. In the light, his emerald-studded shoes looked less grand and more gaudy. Everything about him had been so carefully put together. But it didn’t matter how well one’s clothes fit if the skin didn’t.

Not one of them looked at Hypnos. Or thanked him. Séverin understood that. He saw how each invitation flew in the face of each person’s self-image. But he also understood how Hypnos had seen the scenario, how he had worked to ensure that each person could access the Chateau de la Lune without incident.

“When you are who they expect you to be, they never look too closely. If you’re furious, let it be fuel,” Séverin said, looking each of them in the eye. “Just don’t forget that enough power and influence makes anyone impossible to look away from. And then they can’t help but see you.”

He didn’t meet Hypnos’s gaze, but he saw the lines of his shoulders relax.

“Now, as for the Chateau,” he said, bringing up the blueprints by mnemo hologram. The others leaned forward eagerly.

Hypnos’s jaw dropped. “How’d you get those?”

“I have my sources,” said Laila, smiling.

“Part of her useful legion of lovesick men,” said Séverin quickly. He didn’t want to linger on the pining men in Laila’s arsenal. “Now, the mansion itself is nothing we haven’t seen in the past. Two salons, grand banquet hall, kitchen, dining room, chapel, crypt, and boot room. The matriarch of House Kore commissioned particular Forged staircases that lead to the servants’ quarters, which will be challenging.”

The Chateau itself was situated on nearly fifty hectares of land, and surrounded by a collection of smaller buildings. Squares of purple marked the gardens: the winter and spring orchard. A star marked the observatory. A leaf marked the greenhouse—a sprawling building—and a handful of blue circles marked the estate fountains. A red X marked the library. Their target for where the Horus Eye was held.

“These are the core features of the estate,” said Séverin. “Tristan, the only one of us who has actually been to House Kore’s country estate, noted that aspects such as the tent arrangements and entertainment pavilions change by the season. These”—he pointed at the alternating black and red dashes haloing the buildings—“mark the positions of the hired guards. A total of one hundred men and women with rifles. Every eight hours, the House is paying for the guards to be switched out. Twenty incoming. Twenty outgoing. Presumably so that no one stays long enough to commit any unsavory acts.”

Enrique whistled. “One hundred guards? I don’t mind leaving parties with holes in my memory. My body, however, is a little different. I’m not trying to end up in the catacombs.”

“You’re assuming the rifles will be loaded,” said Séverin.

“They won’t be?”

“Only half, according to our man in the police force. Guess what two places they’re guarding the most?”

“Library and greenhouse,” guessed Zofia.

“Correct.”

Those were, after all, the two features that House Kore celebrated most. The entrance to its otherworldly gardens and its extensive collections.

“But we already knew that,” said Enrique.

“Also correct,” said Séverin. “But the half of the police force assigned to the library are carrying blanks in their rifles.”

Enrique lifted an eyebrow. “And the half at the greenhouse?”

“Fully loaded.”

“According to the catalogue coin, the Horus Eye is in the library, though,” said Laila. “Why guard the greenhouse?”

“A mystery that only access to the greenhouse can solve. Tristan?”

Tristan had been oddly silent until now. When he looked at Séverin, his eyes were rimmed red. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I can handle that,” he said. “With the help of my good friend, the ancient and honorable botanist, Mr. Ching.”

Enrique groaned. “Ugh. It’s Chang. Wait, why am I even correcting this?”

“What about the rifles?” asked Hypnos.

Zofia waved her hand. “My designs are superior.”

“Also, how are we getting out?” asked Enrique.

“I can help with that,” said Hypnos. “I can invoke Order rule to ensure the matriarch must place something in her most well-protected vaults. She won’t be able to tell what it is, and it can be anything you need. Getaway clothes, et cetera.”