Page 38 of Just for a Taste

He left before I could gather my thoughts or say anything, and with little else to do, I mentally tucked away the encounter and left to change.

As I had expected, the library greeted me with the pleasant scent of hibiscus layered over the usual mustiness of old books. Shortbread cookies peeked out from underneath a neatly folded napkin.

I was surprised to see that Noor didn’t appear annoyed that I was late. On the contrary, she was sipping her tea in an unusually jovial mood. Despite the strangeness of our previous conversation about my thesis, I decided to try once more.

“I’ve found a promising lead,” I ventured, taking a bite of a cookie. “There was an exhumation of Enzo Armando’s body a few years ago to gather his genome. I’d like to see which mutations—”

Noor drank the rest of her tea in a painfully large gulp, then slammed the teacup onto its plate. When she spoke, her sharp tone was as jarring as the sound of porcelain against porcelain. “You’re dabbling in things you don’t understand the gravity of, Cora.”

I was speechless. She had rebuked me when we first talked about my thesis, but since then, I thought we’d established a mutual understanding. As long as Zeno was not involved, everything was fair game.

I took a sip of tea, but it did little to wet my dry mouth.

Noor locked onto me, brow furrowed and eyes intense. “Do your thesis, find your information, but do not involve me in anything relating to vampirism itself.”

She paused for a moment and softened just enough to jar me from my state of paralysis, then asked me a straightforward question: “How long did Enzo Armando live?”

No matter how taken aback I was, this sort of concrete information was seared into me and came forth as easily as my name. “Enzo Armando lived to the age of forty-two.”

She nodded slowly. “And what did he die of?”

“It’s widely debated. If you look at one of his portraits later in life, he has an unusual marking on his face, and some scholars assume it’s from syphilis. I think it could be melanoma, though, since he was known to spend time outside with his children in his thirties.”

“Well, then,” she said, donning her usual mask of detachment. “Connect the dots, and don’t step over any lines you’ve made. You should leave now. Zeno will be expecting you.”

∞∞∞

My arms and legs burned, my chest heaving. Although I may have needed the exercise, jogging had been futile. Duca de’ Medici hadn’t even arrived by the time I found my spot in the corner.

I gulped in the air and droppedWar and Peaceonto the bench. It hit the stone with a satisfying thud.At least, I thought,how sore my arms are is justified.Shoving my unusual discussion with Noor from my mind, I plopped down next to my adversary and waited for my friend. Leonore flitted over to me immediately, nesting happily in my lap. The shy little thing had finally warmed up to me and was sure to demand affection the instant I sat down. She had especially come to adore those five minutes before Duca de’ Medici arrived and she had me all to herself.

But for the first time since I’d met Duca de’ Medici, he arrived exactly on time. He entered the room, eyes to the ground, and took a seat.

He was as horrible at hiding his moods as I had become skilled at reading them. This was, I deduced, neither pouting nor anger, but mild discomfort, presented with Medici’s usual flair.

“What’s this about?” I joked, trying to lighten the mood. “Not a fan of the latest chapter in the book?”

Duca de’ Medici glanced up at me and appeared to be on the verge of speaking, then tightened his mouth in a line. “No, actually, I’m quite fond of how the story is moving along. I’ve picked out an excellent record for today. Some Debussy, in fact.”

That’s a pretty good impression of being normal, I thought,but not good enough. Then it hit me. “What were you going to ask earlier?”

He froze so jarringly that Leonore was startled away. “I, uh—I heard your conversation.”

I rolled my eyes. “You already made fun of me for talking with flowers, remember?”

“No, before that. With Noor.”

My heart leaped to my throat. The notion he had heard about my thesis, for reasons I couldn’t fully parse, felt acutely sinful. To my combined relief and confusion, the look of Duca de’ Medici was not anger, but embarrassment. “Yes, I was reading next door, in the aviary. I was going to ask if you wanted to go get the seeds with me.”

Oh.Thatwas the conversation he heard.

Somehow, this wasn’t any clearer.

“I mean, that would be lovely, but can you really go outside during the day? Is that . . .?”

I knew it wasn’t safe for him, but I didn’t know exactly how unsafe it could be. On top of albinism, some vampires had lupus-like photosensitivity or solar urticaria. This was bad enough, but there even existed some rarer subtypes of vampirism with anaphylactic responses to certain ultraviolet rays. While I would appreciate having a friendly face accompany me, I didn’t think Noor would appreciate me using up all her epinephrine.

Duca de’ Medici gave a dry laugh. “I’ll be fine. I’ll look foolish, certainly, but I’ll be fine.” Then, shooting me a sideways glance, he added, “So, uh, did you want to? There’s still time. The shop closes in a few hours.”

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