Corona shook her head again, as though to clear it of cobwebs. ‘‘He must be alive. There’s no motive. He was— I mean, any time I met him, I thought—’’
‘‘I thought he was, perhaps, the most boring man alive,’’ supplied her twin, languidly, wiping her hands. Corona flinched.
“I see! Lovely to meet you,” said the Angel, unaware of how her eyebrows betrayed her, like everyone else in the world to Nona seemed unaware of how their eyebrows betrayed them, by immediately saying plain as day: Camilla?? Really??? Camilla????
“Don’t fucking talk to me, Hect. The moment the commander hears about this, your ass is grass, and there’ll be no Crown to save you.”
“Do you want my help to get out of here,” said Camilla, “or not?”
“I’d ask her how I looked in an outfit and she’d always say exactly what was on her mind, and sometimes all I wanted was for her to tell me I looked perfect even if I didn’t.” Crown sighed, the picture of tragedy. “And, horribly, she was always right.”
“Just help me get Judith inside. You have to help her. The sedative’s going to wear off soon. Ianthe, you’re the only one … Ianthe, do not look at me like that. If you look at me like that I am walking away. If you want me, you take her too, okay?”
“She was always like a corpse that had been dead for only minutes. They wrapped her in plex and dropped her in rivers, trying to see if that would do anything … I was there. It was awful at first,” she added, “and then it simply started being very funny ...”
The last nghhugh was nothing to do with you. Coronabeth, face set, had clasped her hand over the Second House’s mouth and manhandled her backward, which was very easy for someone of the Third’s stature to do to someone of the Second’s.
“In point of fact that’s not actually Crown’s boyfriend, Nona, it’s her sister, but I don’t think anyone could blame you for getting confused.” Nona felt a little surge of relief at the idea that Crown did not have a boyfriend.
“D’you remember that pop-eyed tutor asking you what would be a good substance for a regenerative ward and you kept making rude suggestions in the sweetest little voice?”
“Yes,” said Crown, whose voice had softened just a little. “Marcus Trio, right?”
''Naberius!'' she said, and she pulled his ear forward so that he had to come with it, like an animal being led by a bit. Two bright red spots of ourtage had formed in his cheeks. The lovely twin waggled his ear gently, so that his head shook with it.''
I went over to you when everyone else at the party would have eaten glass to talk to me… I had put a lot of effort into making them feel that way. There you were, and you weren’t even grateful. You were immune.
‘‘I suppose you could say that I—ha, ha—cavalier primarried!’’
From the other side of the room, Jeannemary let out a long noise like a death rattle. Princess Corona laughed outright; Magnus looked extremely pleased with himself.
Camilla said, Makes sense, distance isn’t really an issue, the creature isn’t fully instantiated but squatting in the River, and Crown said, How will we know if it instantiates, and Camilla said, Because gravity will change and the planet’ll break up, and Crown said, Hmm.
“It’s the way you look at people.”
“Tell me,”demanded Crown. There was a deep velvety spark of mischief in her eyes, and Nona thought again how lovely they were, like the flowers in the sexy shampoo advertisement.“Come on—I’ll die if I don’t know. I love being told about myself.”
''I think,'' the bright twin was saying, ''that it’s a hell of a lot better than sticking us in a room and playing who’s the best necromancer? Or worse—loading us up with old scrolls and having us translate rituals for hours and hours on end.''
Nona rose quite eagerly to the challenge. “You look at Commander We Suffer like you want her to think you’re into her, but you aren’t at all, it’s just something you’re doing with your eyelashes,” she said.
It was only a bone. Nice to nibble at, boring otherwise. “Done,” she said, then guessed, “People like Crown?”
The pencil had been put down. The eyes had shadowed into earthen grey. “Crown,” said Palamedes pleasantly, “isn’t our friend right now.”
The Warden of the Sixth drummed his feet on the floor percussively. He said, ‘‘So you’re saving her cavalier can do more or less anything to my cavalier, all in the name of making me cry uncle?’’
‘‘Yes!’’
Corona wrapped herself in a white towel, still dripping feverishly. ‘‘Who’s dead? Isaac Tettares, what does this mean?’’
‘‘It means someone’s dead,’’ Isaac said curtly. ‘‘If you’re not coming, I’m out of here in the next ten seconds. I’m not leaving Jeanne by herself.’’