“Edgard called,” Sy supplied, with an air of finality.
“I haven’t seen or heard from you in aweekbecause Edgard called.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Pondering.”
David released an exasperated sigh, and crossed the two steps to the window, pushing aside the curtains – curtains Sy had not parted in a week, he now realized.
Seeing him, David’s expression immediately softened, and Sy groaned. “Don’t. Stop it.”
“Abigail Skeylor,” David spat.
“To be fair, Edgard was quite demanding as well.”
This knowledge stood between them, heavy and awkward. To divulge royal secrets would land both of them a tongue-tying, or worse. David knew better than to ask Sy what Edgard had made him do.
Sy found himself wishing, just once, he would ask anyway.
“Give me a cigarette,” he said, lamely reaching out a hand.
David indulged him, then sat in the armchair and lit one of his own, never taking his eyes off Sy.
He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, his back aching as he eased into a sitting position for the first time all day.
“The meeting’s tonight,” he said, to break the heavy silence. “I suppose Claude and Sabina will be there?” He paused. Where had David been in the past week? “Terrence, I suppose, as well,” he finished.
“Everyone will be. I suppose you’ll have finished your pondering by then.” He exhaled forcefully. “Pondering.You’rethe one who put that ad in the paper. Of course you are. What, you’re going to find a phoenix? Are you going to catch a pixie by its wings and bottle an earthquake while you’re at it?”
Sy bristled. “I know you think it’s a waste of time, but–”
“It’s worse than a waste of time. It’s dangerous. You’ll get yourself killed. And for what?”
“For what?” Sy laughed around the smoke rolling on his tongue. “David, you’re not a stupid as you pretend for your friends.”
David sighed, not rising to the bait. “Do you need anything? Water, something iron-rich to eat? You look terrible.”
“No thanks to Countess Herceg’s sky blue eyes.”
Ah, this, he could not resist. His forehead wrinkled. “What?”
“Dear Abigail was quite in her fits over having the most unnatural eye color at the Midsummer Gala.”
“Am I supposed to turn down a good reference because your favorite client is insecure and overly demanding?”
Atfavorite, Sy flicked ash on the floor. “It isn’t as if you need the money.”
David shook his head. “I warned you about her, from the first moment she commissioned you. Vainanda hypochondriac. I told you, I can help pay for whatever you need. You let her gorge on you because you goweeksat a time taking on charity–”
“Will you stop calling it that?”
“–over some false nobility, or false modesty, I haven’t determined which, that makes you insist upon debasing yourself–”
“Debasingmyself?”
“I didn’t – that isn’t what I meant.”
