“I am a prince and a legate. Her family is impoverished and not respectable. She can’t ever hope to receive a better offer.”
Unless it was an offer to throttle him. As if a fire had been laid in the hearth and lit, my temperature rose.
“Quite so. I’m surprised to hear a Phoenician refused a lucrative contract—” Lord Marius broke off, gaze tightening. “Did you see something?”
Calm. I had to remain calm.
“In Beatrice? Faithful Venus, Marius! Even you must see something in her. She is the most delectable—”
“If I have to hear you praise her shining eyes and cherry lips one more time, I will have one of my men shoot me to put myself out of my misery.”
“She will not sigh when I am dead,” said Amadou.
“Nor will she lie with you for gold, it seems, which is the next line in the famous poem by the Thrice-Praised poet Bran Cof.”
Amadou sighed. “I misplayed my hand. I was too accommodating.”
Lord Marius paced the chamber, passing an arm’s length from where I stood with my buttocks crushed against the high metal frame of the bed, holding my breath. “Women are hard to please. I could have sworn I saw a flicker of movement. Must have been the light.”
“How do we know the girls are anywhere near this district? Much less in this house?”
“The mansa specifically told me to follow the cold mage. We’re not to trust him. If he says to go left, then we go right.”
“Ah, so that’s why you turned this way when he wanted to ride back to Enterprise Road.”
“That’s right. Then one of my soldiers saw the cold mage see someone up on this roof, and my man thought it was a female, so here we are.” Lord Marius paced to the door and glanced into the hall. He gestured to someone before turning back. “You know, Amadou, whatever you think about your Beatrice’s raven-black ringlets and bonny curves, this business of hunting down girls makes me uneasy. It’s beneath us. Meanwhile, that commoner in the hall is right, curse him. The Northgate poet sits on the steps of my cousin’s court. Each day the poet does not eat, he heaps more shame on my clan’s honor. I fear we are not getting out of this without a bloodbath.”
“The plebes will mob and riot. It’s in their breeding. We’ve known that in Rome for centuries. The sooner the militia drives the rabble off the streets, the better for all. If more blood were spilled, there’d be less trouble.”
“Do you suppose so?” drawled a far-too-familiar voice. “I would think a timely hailstorm would drive people inside without causing undue harm.”
Andevai walked into the bedchamber. I could not call his expression a smile.
“That’s an interesting thought, Magister,” said Marius. “Can you manage such a storm?”
Andevai’s cool vanished like frost under the sun. “Of course I can!”
“I meant no offense, Magister. It would be a cursed sight better way to restore order than cutting people down. In my experience as a soldier…”
Gaze straying from Lord Marius to the bright disorder of clothing and fabric strewn across the beds, Andevai saw me.
He saw me.
Lord Marius had broken off. “Magister? What’s wrong?”
Andevai blinked. “I was…just…stunned…” His gaze flickered to the bed. “That jacket. Orange bars. Blue scallops. Peacock-winged spectacles. And a ruff?! Quite stunning. You would have to really…wear colors…and lace…to pull that off in a jacket.”
“Yes, you would have to,” said Lord Marius with a laugh, glancing toward me—at the jacket—and back at Andevai. The look he gave the man I had to call my husband was so frankly appreciative that I blushed. “You’re quite the decorative specimen yourself.”
“My thanks,” said Andevai in the most absentminded manner imaginable. I blinked so hard I thought he must surely hear me warn him with my eyes to stop staring at me.
Amadou Barry sighed in the manner of a man wanting to change the subject. “Speaking of shooting oneself. Do we search the roof??”
“What say you, Magister?” Marius’s amused and avid gaze remained fixed on Andevai.
“I say nothing,” said Andevai, glaring right at me in the most shockingly idiotic way.
“We were told you could lead us to the girl you wed.”
Andevai looked sharply away and appeared to be searching walls and ceiling for any remnant of good taste. “Is that what you were told? I wonder if this is meant to be a tailor’s shop, or if they only raided one and got all the pieces mixed up.”