He rubs his jaw. “Why does my benevolence surprise you, Mademoiselle de Morel? I might not have three hearts like your giant squid, but I do haveone.”
There he goes again, heaping derision over something that clearly scared him back in the town square. “Octopus, not squid.”
“Bickering’s not going to help us get the piece,” Adrien says.
“We’re notbickering,” I mutter, disliking how Adrien manages to make me feel like a rambunctious three-year-old.
“Gaëlle found out from Rainier that I have twenty-four hours”—Slate peers down at his bulky gold wristwatch—“more like twenty-three now, to recover the piece.”
Bile swishes in my stomach at the mention of Gaëlle and Papa in the same sentence. “What happens after that? Do you turn into a pumpkin?”
Slate’s lopsided grin makes an appearance. “If turning into a pumpkin is a euphemism for dying, then yes, I turn into a pumpkin.”
I suck in too much air and wheeze. “You’re kidding?”
“Last of my bloodline, remember.”
“Any more rules I should be aware of?”
“Why don’t you phone up your papa to find out?” There’s an edge of something in Slate’s tone—disgruntlement, hatred . . . a mix of both.
“Maybe if we blindfolded you,” Adrien muses.
“I’m not going in that well blind,” Slate says. “Did I mention I hate dark, tight spaces?”
“Maybe earphones will help.” Adrien suggests. “I have some that sync with my phone so you can listen to music while swimming.”
“I’ll take those.” Slate walks to the other side of the table and plucks a book up.
I’m not too worried about how forcibly he flips through its pages, because it’s a glossy travel guide mentioning famous landmarks in Brittany.
He stops thumbing through the pages and reads the section mentioning thePuits Fleuri. “It says there’s close to a meter deep of coins down there.”
“I really don’t think now’s the time to devise a scheme to steal money, Slate.”
He spears me with a look I wouldn’t even wish on Adrien’s girlfriend. “I was only pointing it out,Cadence, because unless the goddamn leaf is the size of a plate, I’m going to have to rake through all those coins to find it.”
Oh.
He drops his gaze back to the guidebook. “Your concern about my finances is touching, though.”
Adrien glances at us and, although he doesn’t say anything, I sense his thoughts from the slant of his light-brown eyebrows.
Harsh.
He thinks I was harsh.
“According to Rainier, the leaf will be about the size of your palm, Slate.”
I bite my lip.
Silence sets in after that, disrupted only by the sluggish ticking of the clock, scratching pen tips, and whirring air-conditioner.
Adrien pushes back his chair. “I need to get to class, but I’ll meet you back here after lunch. If you two are still at it. You’re staying here with Slate, right?”
I nod.
He slides one hand over his hair to flatten his windblown locks. “Can you believe that, by tomorrow, we’ll have the first leaf?”
