Toward them.

Séverin ran to the door, yanking open the entrance and bracing himself for an attack that never came. The leviathan dove up, then curled down, its giant head resting on the ice and its jaws propped open.

The clock on the wall struck the third chime of noon.

Séverin felt his thoughts ram together, trying to arrange a puzzle that was missing a critical piece. But then he felt Hypnos pulling him through the door—

“What the hell were you waiting for?” he demanded.

The door closed, seaming the monster shut behind its walls. His heart raced. His mind tried to cling to every detail that he’d just seen: pale eyes and teeth, the chime of noon.

Hypnos clutched his heart. “Will it come after us?”

“I don’t think it can fit through the door,” said Zofia.

Enrique crossed himself. “Laila, did you—”

But he stopped. All of them stopped when they looked at Laila. Tears streamed down her face. The sight twisted inside Séverin.

“Laila, ma chère, what is it?” asked Hypnos.

“Those s-statues,” she choked. “They’re not statues.”

She raised her gaze, her eyes finding Séverin’s. “They’re dead girls.”

18

ENRIQUE

Enrique caught his breath.

He knew they had just gotten attacked by a mechanical leviathan, but it was the statues—no, the girls—who kept pushing to the forefront of his mind. There was something across their mouths, something that demanded noticing.

“Did anyone notice the symbols—” he started, only for Séverin to whirl on him, his eyes feral with anger.

“Not now,” he said harshly.

Shame spread hot through his stomach. He was only trying to help. There was something about the arrangement of those girls that reeked of intention. Follow the intention, find the treasure. That was what Séverin used to say. Enrique was only trying to do that, and not for himself and whatever glory it might buy him, but for Laila. Out of the faith that what he did could have meaning to the people who mattered most.

What if what he’d seen could help them find The Divine Lyrics? Then she would live. His research on the book had sometimes mentioned the lore of female guardians. Between that and the dead girls in the grotto, Enrique sensed the possibility of a connection. It called to him like a kernel of a secret, and he needed to root it out.

By now, Eva had rushed to meet them in the atrium of the Sleeping Palace. Séverin quickly told her what had happened in the ice grotto.

“A mechanical leviathan?” Eva repeated, staring back down the hallways.

“And all those girls,” whispered Laila. “Strung up like…”

She couldn’t finish her sentence. Enrique tried to reach for her hand, but she startled when the matriarch rushed into the atrium. Delphine Desrosiers never had a hair out of place. He didn’t even think her shadow dared to stretch across a sidewalk without her permission. But when she ran in now, her eyes looked wild and her steel-colored hair frizzed around her face.

“They said there was an attack,” she said breathlessly.

Her eyes went straight to Séverin, but he wasn’t looking at her.

“Are you hurt?” asked Delphine.

“No,” said Séverin.

Finally, she wrenched her gaze from Séverin and glanced over everyone else. When she caught sight of Laila, her face softened. She took off her own cloak and draped it around Laila’s shoulders.

“I’ll take her. She needs some hot broth and a blanket,” said Delphine. She narrowed her eyes at Séverin when he moved to block her. “Not you.”

Laila looked so frail, the great fur coat hanging off her shoulders. Beside him, Séverin watched her a beat too long … and then he turned his face and stared down the hallway.

“We need eyes on whatever is inside that room,” he said darkly. “And we need to make sure it can’t get out.”

Zofia nodded. “I’ve got an incendiary net prepped and ready. There are Mnemo bugs already positioned to record its movements inside the grotto.”

“I’ll get the Sphinxes,” said Eva. “They’ve got motion-sensitive thread and enough weapons to alert us if it makes it past the door.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Hypnos, looking at Eva. “For all we know, that thing might already be planning to sneak into the atrium—”

“The leviathan didn’t look as if it was designed to leave…,” said Enrique, thinking of how the creature had shot into the air only to rest its head, snake-like, on the ice.

“I agree,” said Zofia. “Its dimensions are not compatible with the hallway space. It would destroy the beauty of its mechanism.”

At least someone was listening to him, he thought glumly. While Séverin and Hypnos discussed new schematics, and Eva and Zofia examined a Forging net, Enrique stood there with the Mnemo bug clutched in his sweaty palm. Invisible.

“We need to discuss the girls.”

Enrique didn’t say statues. He wouldn’t disrespect them that way, but he could feel his word choice shuddering through the group.

“Not now, Enrique, just go and—” Séverin stopped mid-sentence as another attendant ran forward with news about the leviathan in the grotto.

Enrique clutched his Mnemo bug tighter. He wished Séverin cared enough to at least finish his insult. Commotion whirled around him, and he decided, suddenly, that if he was useless here, then he might as well make himself useful elsewhere.

“I am going to find the library,” he announced to no one.

Zofia looked up from her work. “The one that didn’t have books?”

“The very same,” said Enrique tightly.

Aside from Zofia, no one said anything. Enrique stood there a moment longer, then awkwardly cleared his throat. Hypnos looked up, his blue eyes slanted in confusion.

“Perhaps you could escort me to the library?” asked Enrique.

Hypnos blinked. For a second, his gaze slid to Séverin as if waiting for permission. The gesture rankled Enrique, who nearly turned on his heel when Hypnos finally nodded and smiled.

“Of course, mon cher.”

Away from the others, Hypnos seemed lost in thought, his brow creased as he fiddled with the crescent-shaped Babel Ring on his hand. Enrique waited for him to ask about the girls, to notice that Enrique had been trying to speak, but Hypnos said nothing. The wide double doors of the library loomed ahead. Hypnos would leave him there, and finally Enrique’s impatience won out.

“Do you think those girls are the missing victims from twenty years ago?” asked Enrique.

Hypnos looked up from his ring. “Hmm?”

“The girls…,” prompted Enrique. “They might be the same ones from the stories in the area.”

Hypnos grimaced. “I think you’re right.”

“And the way they were arranged,” said Enrique, emboldened. “It seemed purposeful. What if they’re part of the key to finding The Divine Lyrics? I was thinking about how in the seventeenth century, there’s a connection between—”

“My handsome historian,” said Hypnos. He stopped walking and turned to him, rubbing his thumb along the top of Enrique’s cheekbone. “Your words are dazzling, but now isn’t the time.”