“Enter Callum the Cobra,” said Zada, “and enter and enter and enter. He’s a very long snake.”
This earned a snort from Daphne. “That was somehow even worse than a pun. I commend you.”
And there it was again, the familiar thrill Zada always felt when she made Daphne laugh or even crack a smile.
“Excuse me, I take it you’re here for a wedding?” said a reedy man wearing an apron. He didn’t seem to recognize Daphne at all, which was unusual for the shopping district. Maybe he was new to the city. Outsiders gaining admittance was rare, but it did happen.
Zada nodded. “Yes, we are.”
“In that case, might I recommend our custom flower breeding service? It’s guaranteed to match your signature colors down to the very hue and shade.” From the floor-to-ceiling wall of rose vines, he plucked a lavender bloom streaked with gold, which he waved directly under Daphne’s nose.
Without thinking, Zada reached over and took Daphne’s hand, lacing their fingers together like they’d done so many times before. Daphne went very still beside her. Then she squeezed back, so hard Zada could feel the half-moon bite of Daphne’s very short nails.
“—can actually tweak the precise luminescence in real time, if you so desire,” the shopkeeper was saying. “Isn’t that marvelous?
“Of course,” said Zada.
The shopkeeper glanced back and forth between them. “And may I say, it’s always a joy to meet a couple so in sync, so clearly devoted to each other as you two—”
“I need some air,” Daphne announced, bolting for the door.
Zada made her excuses and followed. She found Daphne loitering outside, leaning against the wall. Daphne had neverfound a wall she wouldn’t lean on. It was a hobby of hers, somewhere between the pranks and the brooding.
“Let’s call it a day,” said Daphne, straightening when Zada emerged. “I don’t think either of us has what it takes for a repeat performance.”
Discreetly, Zada rubbed a thumb over the meat of her palm, and the indents from Daphne’s nails. She nodded.
“In that case, we need to get you paid,” said Zada. “The only problem is, your beetle is at home.”
Daphne scoffed. “A likely story.”
“Likelier than me deciding to do all my errands with a bug in my pocket? What if your friend, the aspiring actor, tried to eat it?”
“I don’t think a snake could live off bugs,” said Daphne.
“Maybe it could be an appetizer,” Zada said. “An amuse-bouche.Are you saying cobras can’t engage in fine dining?”
They kept up a stream of such talk all the way from the florist’s shop to the train terminal, and then for the duration of the trip back to Zada’s home. Zada knew it was a deflection, a beeline directly around the issue of what it meant that they were speaking again. Zada also knew that she should have expressed her regret for ending their friendship, on the off chance it had in some way hurt Daphne. At the same time, this fragile peace between them, this fabric of jokes and fanciful nonsense linking them together again, as gossamer-thin as a butterfly’s wing, felt too precious to disrupt.
None of Zada’s schoolmates had ever been inside her home before. As she waved her hand over the doorpad, Zada felt a shiver of trepidation. What would Daphne think of everything? The humid air, the slightest sheen of mold creepingup the walls, the sickly greenish glow that emanated from the council-issued lights—Zada silently catalogued it all as they stepped through the door.
But Daphne did not so much as glance around before holding out one hand.
“My payment?” Daphne said.
Zada picked up a sheet of one the paper letters from the morning, a shiny periwinkle square of congratulations. She creased it diagonally in half.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” asked Zada. Perspiration was already blooming at her hairline.
“I would like my beetle, please,” said Daphne.
Zada added a few more folds to the paper. “I’m sure you would, but I don’t know how that would pair with a cup of Earl Grey.”
Daphne’s outstretched hand fluttered back to her side. “Are you calling me a snake?”
“By your own description, that’s not an insult,” said Zada. Another crease. Another fold.
“Are you talking to me or to your stationery?” said Daphne. “What in the world are you doing? Let me see.”
