The Gilded Wolves (The Gilded Wolves, #1)(98)

32





SéVERIN


Séverin didn’t move until he felt Tristan’s hand clapping his shoulder.

“We’re alive.”

The same could not be said for everyone, though. The Fallen House may have disappeared once more through the Tezcat, but they had left people behind. Soon, they would be uncloaked, their identities known and their location recorded. Séverin looked up to the line of Sphinxes prowling down the terraces … their eyes recording all they saw around them. Soon, the whole Order would know who had betrayed them.

Across from him, Hypnos stirred, groaning.

“I’m dead,” he moaned.

Laila was the first one to rush to him, propping up his head on her lap.

“Well now, this is just proof. An angel stares upon my lifeless form,” said Hypnos, flinging his arm over his forehead.

Séverin forced down the smile pushing at his lips. He hadn’t imagined how it would feel the moment he thought Hypnos had betrayed them. Like a knife twisting in his gut.

“He’s not so bad,” said Tristan begrudgingly. “Please don’t tell him I said that.”

“I won’t, so long as you forgive me for not listening to you earlier.”

Tristan heaved a sigh. “That depends on one thing.”

“And that is?”

“Did someone feed Goliath?”

Séverin laughed, and the force of it—raw, unfettered—scraped his very lungs.

“You only narrowly escaped death, and your first question is about a spider?” demanded Enrique. “What about us? We just risked life and limb to save your ungrateful self!”

“Technically, Goliath is a tarantula,” said Zofia.

She was beaming in Tristan’s direction.

Hypnos propped himself up on his elbows. “What’s the difference…”

“Now you’ve done it,” sighed Laila.

“Well, mygalomorphs—” started Tristan, only for Séverin to clap his hand over Tristan’s mouth.

“He’ll tell you later,” he said tiredly.

“Later,” repeated Hypnos. “Like … at tea? Tomorrow?”

Séverin smiled. “Why not.”

In the catacombs, more voices joined the din of the Sphinxes pawing through the detritus, searching for the House-marked items.

“We should get out of here,” said Séverin. “Leave the cleanup to the Order.” He looked at Hypnos. “Which means you.”

Hypnos scowled. “And soon, you. Don’t look so damn smug.”

Séverin wanted to snatch that response straight out of the air and hold it tight … Soon he would be a part of the Order. House Vanth would be dead no longer. And the Order, the same people who had denied him, would be begging for his help.

Enrique held the Ring of House Kore in his hand. He gave it to Hypnos.

“Don’t take all the credit.”

“I couldn’t if I wanted to,” said Hypnos. “Those Sphinx probably saw it all.”

But he smiled even as he said it.

“Let’s go home,” said Séverin.

Around them, the world had fallen into a semblance of peace. The skeletons, once animated by the essence force of Roux-Joubert and his dead associate, had returned to their place of rest. Roux-Joubert writhed on the stage, sobbing and howling. He crawled forward, trying to grab Séverin’s ankle, but he shook him off.

“You took it from me,” rasped Roux-Joubert.

Séverin ignored him. The Order would deal with him. The six of them trudged back toward stairs that led out of the catacombs.

Séverin could hardly believe it. They’d fought the Fallen House and survived. The matriarch of House Kore would witness what had transpired, and, with a well-placed word from Hypnos, they would come to L’Eden and administer the test of two Rings. House Vanth would be restored. Why couldn’t the five of them do this forever? Plus Hypnos—six of them.

So many things blurred through Séverin’s head at that moment. He thought about the pale mask and the mystery of the doctor. He licked his lips and thought he tasted the remnant of Laila’s not-kiss. He risked a glance at her and realized she was already looking at him, her dark eyes wide, color flushed on her cheeks and down her neck. Séverin looked away first. There was too much joy to take in. The sound of Enrique and Zofia squabbling over whether or not the key to unlocking the Babel Fragment had been mathematically based or symbology based.

“—impossible to detect without locating the center of the logarithm spiral!”

“Okay, but after that. That was me! Why can’t we share credit fifty-fifty?”

“If you would like to divide this up statistically, I am entitled to seventy-five percent.”

“Seventy-five?”

Laila smiled, occasionally smoothing Tristan’s hair from his forehead even as he fussed and protested.

“I’m hungry,” sighed Enrique. “A bone-in steak would be perfection.”

The others gave him strange looks. He looked around the catacombs and shrugged.

“What? I’m hungry. What about you, Tristan? What do you want?”

“This,” Tristan said quietly. “Just this.”