Sabina, to Sy’s immense gratitude, tucked her arm through his, smiling her feline smile at the pair. David raised one eyebrow so slightly it may have only been a twitch. He broke the silence. “Well, that was a waste of time.”
Sy adjusted his gloves. “Not enough to power the gossip mill?”
“Plenty,” David contradicted, glancing around. “Look at them. Half of them have gold coins in their eyes, the other half look ready to tearthathalf in two.” His voice became introspective. “I didn’t suspect there was so much interest.”
“Interest, but no sense,” Sabina said, twirling her curly fringe around one finger, her arm still in Sy’s. “Say I scour the libraries, find the perfect spell,ifit existed. There’s no immortal magic inmyblood. No blood is that powerful. Not even the king’s own. And no spell uses another’s blood.”
Almost none, Sy thought.
As if he’d spoken aloud, David’s eyes shot to Sy’s, and he frowned thoughtfully.
“Did you see Bertrand?” Terrence put in. “What’s he doing here?”
Sy bristled. It had always astonished him that this man had survived Sangfeder and Bertrand hadn’t. But then, Terrence came from a long line of spellscribes, back to Sangfeder’s founding itself. Bertrand’s grandfather had been a vintnerfrom Preule, Sy thought. He resented being expected to remember every respectable person’s family tree. Better to spend his memory on glyphs.
“He was at Martin’s last week,” Sabina informed Sy, naming the club their party frequented. She tutted. “Has to have someone cut all his meat for him, poor dear.”
“He isn’t a child,” Sy protested.
“He’s studying to become a physician,” David provided. “He’s quite knowledgeable.”
Sy started to question how David knew how knowledgeable Bertrand was, but Terrence was not finished adding his invaluable input. “It’s a travesty. If I had to walk around useless like that, I’d tell them to crush my skull instead.”
At that, David shot Sy a prescient glare.
And Sy ignored it. “Would that be an improvement, I wonder?”
“As I said, this evening has been a waste of time,” David said, tugging on Terrence’s arm as he tried to work out whether he’d been insulted. “Will you two join us for drinks at Martin’s?”
“Can’t,” Sabina said, wrapping her arm tighter around Sy’s and smiling at him sweetly. “Sy has a new portrait to show me.”
Sy smiled back, barely containing his surprise.
David, on the other hand, could not contain his. “Well,” he said stiffly. “Ponderingis not all that kept you busy this week, then.”
“I am a man of many talents.”
“Indeed. Happy hunting,” David said, turning to go.
Sy frowned at the specificity of that parting shot, but let it go. David was only sour about Sabina. It was the way of things; he and David quarreled, David ran to someone else, Sy took whoever was interested – sometimes Sabina, sometimes someone he met at the club – to bed. After a week or two, David’s fit of angst would pass, and everything would lock back into place.
It wouldn’t, though, would it? Not this time. He felt the sudden urge to run after David, to tell him goodbye. Whatever happened, for perhaps the last time. As if he could sense it, David turned back to look at them.
“You’re welcome,” Sabina purred in his ear, interrupting his thoughts.
“Thank you,” he whispered, lowering his mouth to her ear in what appeared, from a distance, a flirtatious gesture. Smelling the bit of amber-scented perfume she’d dabbed behind her ear, he successfully wrestled away an urge to plant his lips on her slender neck then and there, or to find a curtain behind which he could pull up her skirts.
“It’s boorish of him to parade around with Terrence that way,” she whispered back, then covered her mouth and giggled loudly for effect. He’d always thought, in another life, with an upbringing more like his, she may have made a name for herself in the theater. “I’ll walk you as far as the Wryneck Colonnade.”
They strolled up the avenue arm in arm, chatting idly and mostly one-sidedly. Though the summer solstice was still a week away, the Midsummer Gala had taken place the night before, signaling the end of the social season in the capital city; with the wealthy readying to abscond to the countryside with all their wealth, the streets were unusually empty.
Sabina had been to the gala and had all the latest gossip. Sy tried to pay attention, but his thoughts were split; half present and half under the gloom of the Lichtenwald. He would need to leave soon – tomorrow or the day after, if he could manage it. Many of the shops in Upper Bunting, missing their clientèle, would be closing up until autumn, and he would need supplies. What did one bring along on a hunt for a magical creature? Food, of course. A tent? He would need some kind of weapon. A gun? He almost laughed at the thought.
Soon enough, his absence would be noted. He couldn’t risk word of his intention spreading. He would leave a note with his building’s superintendent – he would say he was joining Duchess Abigail on retainer at her estate. Believable enough, and with no one to refute it until autumn, it would cease all questions until then. Especially from those who would be most disapproving, and most likely to ask. Edgard would not summon him for a time, but Sy knew the king – or his failing organs – would quickly grow impatient, and a summoning from the center of the Lichtenwald may be too painful to even attempt answering. Time was of the essence.
When they reached the colonnade, they stopped briefly under its arches to admire the sunset’s play over the Wryneck River as the water trickled by. A couple on a rowboat floated past, their laughter echoing under the colonnade’s dome.
“Don’t you ever wish you had someone to float down the river with you?” he asked suddenly, leaning against one of the great white columns.
