Free The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi

the Houses of the Western worldused and collected Forging objects made from both affinities, House Nyx collected treasures of a particular strain: those that showcased an affinity of the mind. House Nyx had objects that spliced memory, soaked dreams, gathered someone’s will in a tight fist, and brought forth vivid illusions. Mind was the most regulated form of artistry, used as much in pleasure houses and entertainment venuesas it was for prison camps. It was the only affinity that universally required registration, whether or not a person chose to hone that talent. Some mind affinity techniques were even banned. And for good reason. Until about twenty years ago, mind-manipulation objects had been especially popular in the Southern states of the Americas where wealthy landowners kept slaves.
    Up ahead loomed the entranceto Erebus. At either side stood two lions carved of diorite, and above the threshold shone a milky jade strip of verit stone. Like the verit entrance at the Palais Garnier, the stone could detect any weapon or harmful Forged object. The onlyway to neutralize its effect was to carry verit stone on one’s person, like two magnets repelling one another. Supposedly, there was nothing in the worldlike verit, although Enrique had recently come across a treatise on a North African artifact that made him wonder otherwise.
    “He’s known for his illusions,” said S é verin, interrupting his thoughts. “Focus on one thing, and don’t lose yourself in his tricks.”
    The door swung open. Without hesitating, S é verin walked between the two lions. When he passed beneath the verit stone, it glowed brightred and the stone lions growled, their heads whipping toward him. A bulky guard appeared at the entrance.
    “Reveal your weapon,” he said.
    “My apologies,” said S é verin mildly. He withdrew a small knife from his pocket. “I always keep one on hand for cutting apples.”
    Enrique kept his face blank. S é verin was lying.
    “You’ll have to pass through the verit entrance again—”
    “We’re already late,”said S é verin. “Patriarch Hypnos won’t like that, and I can assure you there’s nothing else on my person. Here, I’ll turn out my pockets in front of you.”
    S é verin made a show of lifting the bottoms of his trousers and insides of his sleeves. When he got to his pockets, a card fluttered to the floor. The guard picked it up, his eyes widening.
    “Ah, and that’s a credit for two free nights at thehotel I own. You may have heard of it. It’s called L’Eden.”
    The guard had certainly heard of it.
    “Why don’t you hold on to it and let me through? Or I could take it for safekeeping as I go through a silly entrance yet again?”
    The guard hesitated, then waved S é verin through the doors. Enrique followed after him without incident. He never had reason to carry a weapon.
    Erebus, he soon discovered,was aptly named. No sooner had theycrossed into the hall than it shifted. One moment, he glimpsed parquet floors, ebony pillars covered in golden filigree, a sumptuous rug close to his toes. He should have kept his gaze on the floor, but a flicker of movement distracted him. He looked up. Instantly, the room transformed into a wildwood. Silver dusk seeped between frosted tree branches. The chandelierdissolved into a snowdrift. What pieces he could see of the carpet looked sugared. Cold touched his skin. He could smell it. The mineral tang of snow. The inside of his nose burned from cold. He was in a world of ice and sugar. Blood spatter on white silk. No, not blood. Poppies. Poppies blooming, shriveling, budding in glyph-like patterns. Secrets just beneath the petals and the snow, ifhe only—
    A voice broke the illusion. “Goodness, how rude of me.”
    The images melted. No more snow or poppies or sugar.
    Enrique was on his knees, hands splayed on the scarlet rug as if he wanted to shred it apart. In front of him, a pair of polished shoes. He looked up before he realized he