Page 38

Her eyes glittered as she swatted my arm, then climbed into her car.
About halfway on the drive back to our hotel, Thomas leaned over and whispered, “You all right?”
“Always,” I said.
“You looked . . . pensive. After your talk with Sparrow.”
I flashed him a smile. “Just girl talk. We braided each other’s hair, plotted a revolution—you know, the usual.”
Thomas arched a brow. “Did it help?”
“A little. It turns out, love is hard when you’re being followed by men with a fondness for prisons and violence.”
“A universal theme.”
“I might write a book under Juliette’s name,” I said. “‘Sapphic Secrets and State Secrets: One Woman’s Tale of Passion Behind the Curtain.’”
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll write the foreword.”
“Only if you include the recipe for your anxiety-inducing potato soup.”
We rode in silence, the weight of the day pressing more lightly now.
By the time we reached the Gellért, the sun had vanished behind Parliament’s dome across the river.
The doorman nodded without smiling.
The chandelier above us tinkled in the draft, as though eavesdropping.
We slid into a half-moon booth in the back of the main dining room under a wide painting of a river that looked like the Danube. A waiter approached with the stiffness of a cadaver.
Sparrow ordered wine in flawless French.
Egret asked for something unpronounceable and made the poor man repeat it back three times, just to be difficult.
I asked for whatever passed for a house red.
Thomas ordered water, which was somehow the most suspicious request of all.
As the waiter left, Sparrow leaned her chin on her hand and looked around the room like it was a chessboard.
“You think we’re the only pieces in play?” she murmured.
Egret tapped his cigarette against a porcelain saucer. “Statistically, no. Emotionally, yes.”
I leaned back against the cushioned bench and crossed my legs. “You know,” I said, “there’s something almost romantic about dining while being watched. It’s like a theater, except the actors are exhausted and emotionally compromised.”
“A very experimental theater,” Thomas deadpanned.
Sparrow laughed.
Even Egret’s smile looked real this time.
For a brief, flickering moment, it didn’t feel like we were in the middle of a nation controlled by our country’s greatest growing threat. It felt like we were just . . . four people sharing a meal.
Joking over wine.
Letting the weight of the day slip just a bit from our shoulders.