The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves #1)(69)

Séverin’s mind numbed at the edges, zeroing in on her fallen hand. It was silly how well he knew her hands. He knew her hands were always cold even when it was blazing hot outside. He knew there was a small burn on the tip of her index finger. He remembered because he’d been in the kitchens with her when she yelped after touching a scalding pan. Séverin wanted to call a doctor, a retinue of nurses, declare a war on pans if he could … but Laila refused.

“It’s a tiny burn, Majnun,” she’d said, laughing off his panic.

“I know,” he’d said.

But I cannot stand to see you hurt.

Ammit tossed back its head. The world turned weightless. Cracks showed through the creature’s body, the eerie blue of twilight. Then, in a burst of light, the creature vanished. But Laila didn’t stir on the floor.

He rushed to her, gathering her body close. She felt too light in his arms. The others approached warily, but he didn’t turn.

“Laila?” he called, shaking her.

Open your eyes.

Her head lolled to one side, and something in him snapped. He brought his lips to her ear and whispered, “Laila, it’s your majnun.” Your madman, he thought, though he did not say it. “And you will drive me well and truly mad if you do not wake up this instant—”

She stirred, groaning. Then she opened her dark, fathomless eyes.

“Thank God,” breathed Enrique, crossing himself.

Zofia looked stricken and pale. Even Hypnos, who Séverin thought had only seen them as a means to an end, had tears in his eyes. Enrique helped Laila to stand, and Séverin stood too. He brushed himself off and straightened his suit. He didn’t trust himself to look in Laila’s direction.

“Thank every pantheon of deities for Laila and Zofia because you two”—Séverin pointed at Enrique and Hypnos—“are useless.”

Hypnos’s hand fluttered to his throat. “I was frightened. You know what fear does to one’s complexion?”

“Enlighten me.”

Hypnos blinked. “Well, I don’t know precisely, but it’s nothing good, I can tell you that much.”

“We got the Eye?” tried Enrique.

He turned, as if he was going to give the artifact to Hypnos when Séverin held out a hand.

“Don’t give that to him,” he said.

“Why ever not?” demanded Hypnos.

“You’ll perform the inheritance test, then you may have your Eye—”

Hypnos crossed his arms. “My conditions were—”

“Acquire the eye and in return I will have my inheritance restored,” recited Séverin. “You never once specified that in acquiring the Eye, it had to be passed over to your possession immediately.”

Hypnos opened his mouth and closed it. Finally, he grinned. He wasn’t angry at all. In fact, he seemed relieved.

“Touché.”

Hypnos wandered off in search of the black box he’d placed in House Kore’s care. Minutes later, he returned with a heavy black box.

“For you, my lovelies.”

He took off the top. Inside gleamed five pairs of guard uniforms and hats. They pulled on the clothes quickly. Then, hats adjusted, they made their way to the exit separately.

“I shall be at L’Eden day after next to honor my promise,” said Hypnos. His gaze rested on each of them, something hungry and searching in his gaze. “I look forward to being in the presence of another patriarch.”



* * *



THE STAIRCASE TO the greenhouse was a short distance away, and yet even that made Séverin impatient. He wanted to be on that step already. He wanted to be in L’Eden, wandering through his grand lobby, holding out his scarred palm for the two Rings test and watching the matriarch of House Kore’s face as she declared him blood heir of House Vanth. When he blinked, he saw the future poured out before him, rich and golden as mythic honey, each taste an edible prophecy—Tristan smiling, his pockets full of flowers; Enrique buried under the weight of books; Zofia and her spontaneous combustions; Laila, her heart’s quest satisfied, lounging across from him with a smile fashioned just for him. Pain lanced through Séverin and he winced at the sharpness of it. Unripe, untested joy. The kind that doesn’t know any better than to explode furiously behind the ribs. He didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to hold it at arm’s length before it could devour any more of him, but then he felt Enrique tugging at his sleeve.

“Zofia has a spear.”

Séverin looked behind him. “Zofia, I said not to take anything but the Horus Eye.” He pointed at the spear. “You can’t keep it.”

Zofia glared at him. “You stole a silver cloth and it’s in your jacket pocket.”

Séverin considered this. “You can keep the spear.”

“Not fair!” said Enrique. “I didn’t take anything!”

“You’re getting a completely different reward.”

“Ah, yes,” said Enrique dreamily. “Destiny. Deliverance. Dessert.”

“No more debt,” added Zofia.

“What will you do, Laila?” asked Enrique.

“Oh, you know. I’ll go wherever my search takes me,” said Laila, with a secret smile.