The Gilded Wolves (33 page)

Hypnos walked briskly down the halls of Erebus.

It was freezing outside, and the fires had been banked for the night, which meant that it was bound to be a chilly reception for the matriarch of House Kore. Her fur stole was wound tightly around her body. If she hadn’t bothered to take it off, then that meant it would only be a short visit.

“Why did you come here at this hour?”
he asked tiredly.

If she was offended with his lack of decorum, she did not show it.

“The Winter Conclave is nearly upon us.”

“Hilariously, Madame, I do own a calendar.”

She licked her lips, her eyes darting to the door.

“Your friend, Monsieur Montagnet-Alarie … are you quite certain he will not ask for us to administer the two Rings test?”

Hypnos frowned. Who could say for certain what
occurred in S
é
verin’s head. Perhaps he would ask again. He had refused out of grief, but perhaps with enough time, he would think that his own inheritance might be worth it.

“I can’t say for certain.”

The matriarch closed her eyes. “Make sure he doesn’t ask. At least, not until he’s helped the Order find the Fallen House.”

“What aren’t you telling me?”

She hesitated, and then began haltingly:
“We administered the two Rings test on him when the former patriarch of House Vanth was killed in that fire.”

“I already knew that, and everyone knows those results were falsified—”

“They weren’t.”

Hypnos paused. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that he’s not the blood heir of House Vanth, and he must never know.”

I was eating breakfast and haphazardly listening to
NPR
when I first heard about the human zoo that displayed Filipinos. The Philippine village was one of the largest—and most visited—exhibits during the 1904 World’s Fair in St. Louis, Missouri, where visitors were particularly interested in seeing the “primitive” tribe of the Igorots forced to butcher and eat dogs.

That
piece shocked me. I couldn’t believe I’d just heard the words “human zoo.”

It was that piece of history that guided me into the world of
The Gilded Wolves,
specifically the events of the Exposition Universelle of 1889, a world’s fair held in Paris, whose major attraction was a human zoo—then called a “Negro Village”—which was visited by twenty-eight million people. As a Filipina and Indian woman,
colonialism runs in my veins. I couldn’t reconcile the horrors of that era with the glamour of it, which, up until then, was what stood out in my imagination of the 19th century: courtesans and the Moulin Rouge, glittering parties and champagne.

I wanted to understand how an era called La Belle
É
poque, literally
The Beautiful Era,
could possess that name with that stain. I wanted to explore beauty
and horror through the eyes of the people on the sidelines. And, ultimately, I wanted to go on an adventure.

Research itself was an adventure. I learned that Filipino national hero Jose Rizal truly had been in Paris in 1889. I learned far too much about the history of ice manufacturing, which never ended up in the book. I learned that while Belle
É
poque Paris enjoyed artistic and scientific leaps,
it also perpetuated the deep anti-Semitism spreading through Europe, particularly in the Russian empire.

While I took many liberties with time and truth, it never felt right to untangle the beauty from the horror of the 19th century.

When we revise the horror and sanitize the grotesque, we risk erasing the paths that led us here.

History is a myth shaped by the tongues of conquerors. What appears
good may eventually sour and curdle in our collective minds. What appears bad may later bloom and brighten. I wanted to write this trilogy not to instruct or to condemn, but to question …

Question what is gold and what glitters.

For the longest time, I did not think I could write this book. The scope felt unimaginable. The puzzles were snarls of nonsense. The characters hissed at me when I got too close. But I found my way into this world and I kept my head above water thanks to the following people. To my family at Wednesday Books, I am so grateful for your support. Thank you to Eileen, who made
me a romance reader and saw this tale from its origins as a half-baked lump of words and a Pinterest board. To Brittani, Karen, and DJ—thank you for igniting the fuel! To Thao, you’re my dream champion of an agent. I wouldn’t want to be in the trenches with anyone else. Thank you, also, to my family at Sandra Dijkstra Literary Agency for all that you do and especially to Andrea, who has brought
these stories overseas. To Sarah Simpson-Weiss, assistant extraordinaire, how did I ever exist without you? To Noa, I’m so grateful for all your guidance and humor and invaluable feedback.

To my amazing friends … thank you to Lyra Selene, my rockstar critique partner who read this story a thousand times. To Ryan:
a thousand heartfelt
meeps
! To Renee and JJ, illuminated and glam oracles. To Eric,
who let me borrow his name. Russell and Josh, who have patiently witnessed me in all manner of disheveled deadline-ness. Marta, Zan, and Amber, who kept me sane and grounded and laughing. To Katie, who helped me with the maths. To Niv, Victoria, and Bismah: I couldn’t have written a tale about friendship without you.

To my incredible family: Mom, Dad, Ba and Dadda, Lalani, my aunts and uncles,
and future in-laws. Your support brought me here and keeps me going. A special thanks to my Alpesh Kaka and Alpa Kaki, in whose home I first read the treasure hunt thrillers that inspired this story. Shiv, Renuka, Aarav (I will never forget seeing you for the first time), Sohum, Kiran and Alisa, Shraya—I do not say this often enough, but I love you. A special thanks to my cousin, Pujan, whose brilliant
insight into the art world made me rethink how I observe pieces of history. To Pog and Cookie, the beta readers who will tell me first: what fresh hell is this. I am deeply proud to be your sister.

To Panda and Teddy, who can neither read nor write, but seem to grow fluffier to soak up my writing despair. Thanks.

To Aman. I wouldn’t want to be on this journey with anyone else. You bring magic
to my world.

And last, to my readers, thank you so much. You guys fill my heart.

Also by
Roshani Chokshi

The Star-Touched Queen

A Crown of Wishes

Star-Touched Stories

Roshani Chokshi
is the
New York Times
bestselling author of
The Star-Touched Queen, A Crown of Wishes, Aru Shah and the End of Time,
and
The Gilded Wolves
. You can visit her online at
www
.roshanichokshi
.com
, or sign up for email updates
here
.