Marguerite nodded.
An actual click came from the door, and they both turned toward it. A few seconds later, Wren came down the short hallway, whistling a merry tune.
“And how are we all doing this evening?” Wren asked.
“You’re in a good mood,” said Marguerite, amused.
“Mmm.” Wren dropped into a chair. “It was a good day, I think.”
“Oh?”
“Lady Coregator invited me to visit her chambers tomorrow afternoon, to discuss patronage. She has lists of patrons and artisans they support.”
“Oh, very good.” Marguerite nodded to her. “See if you can get a look at that list. If there’s artificers on it, we may get a lead.” She tapped her finger against her lip. “If you can’t, I suppose I can always break in and steal it.”
“That sounds extremely dangerous,” said Shane disapprovingly.
“Yes, well. Needs must.”
“I’ll try to get a look,” said Wren. She leaned back, and then added, with studied casualness, “Ran into a rather nice man today, too.”
Shane’s head snapped up so fast that Marguerite was surprised he didn’t give himself whiplash.
And I hope that Wren is a better liar when it comes to screening patrons than she is when acting casual. Aloud, she said only, “Stand down, Shane, Wren is allowed to meet nice men.”
Shane growled something that sounded like, “No, she isn’t.”
“Oh, for pity’s sake,” said Wren, rolling her eyes. “I’d spilled wine and he helped me clean up; he didn’t ravish me there on the table.”
Shane’s second growl contained no coherent words, but appeared to indicate that cleaning up spills was a slippery slope to ravishment.
“So what was his name?” asked Marguerite, not bothering to contain her amusement.
“I didn’t catch it.”
“Well, maybe I know him. What did he look like?”
“Errr…” Wren bit her lip. “He had dark hair and…err…？”
Marguerite cocked her head. “I’m going to need a little more than that to go on. What did his face look like?”
“Uh. Face.” Wren’s eyes skittered back and forth. “He definitely had one of those?”
“That’s a relief.”
“Eyes, nose, the whole works.” She nodded firmly. “In all the usual places, too.”
Shane put his head in his hands. “Look, I’m not good with faces!” Wren said defensively.
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?” asked Marguerite, trying not to laugh.
“Oh yes, definitely. Probably. I think.” She gnawed on her lower lip again. “I hope?”
“Right,” said Marguerite. “I’ll keep an eye out for men with dark hair who have faces.”
“I think he was tall,” added Wren.
“You think everyone is tall,” muttered Shane into his hands.
“Was that a short joke? Because if that was a short joke, I will bite your kneecaps bloody.”
“You are short.”
“I am five-foot-four, which is exactly average for a woman from my country.”
“Your country is short.”
“Children…” said Marguerite.
Wren made a face. “You sound just like the Bishop when you say that.”
“My respect for the Bishop grows by leaps and bounds.” She laughed ruefully. “Anyway. If you run into your mystery man again, let me know.”
“I don’t think he meant anything bad,” said Wren hesitantly.
Marguerite smiled. “Almost certainly not,” she said. “There are some good men out there still, even in this fallen world.”
Shane’s grunt was practically volcanic, but he didn’t argue.
Someone knocked on the door. Shane picked up his sword and went to answer it. Marguerite put down her pen, assuming that it was most likely a page with a message for her. An invitation, most likely. Or a proposition. She’d already received several of each and had accepted two of the invitations, and put off the propositions while leaving the door open to the future.
It was a surprise, therefore, when Shane returned, followed by a nervous looking young page. “I
have a meeting,” he said. “Wren, you’re—”
Marguerite cleared her throat and flicked her eyes to the page.
“—absolutely right,” Shane said hurriedly. “Right. Yes. Absolutely.”
Marguerite stifled a sigh. Beartongue had warned her that Shane was a terrible liar, and she hadn’t been wrong. I assume that was going to be “Wren, you’re in charge. Make sure no one stabs Marguerite before I get back.” Which is not the sort of thing you say to a lady about a member of her entourage.
“Of course I’m right,” said Wren, slightly quicker on the uptake. “Always. Enjoy your meeting.”
She waved.
Shane belted his sword around his hips and went into his room briefly, then emerged. “Lead the way,” he told the page. The door shut behind them.
“Huh,” said Marguerite, putting her chin in her hand. “Now that’s interesting. Is our broody friend getting laid, do you think?”
“Shane? No, I…huh.” Wren wrinkled her nose. “Er. I suppose it’s possible?”
“He’s a very handsome man,” said Marguerite, amused by the dismay in Wren’s voice. “Some women might notice.”
“I guess.” Wren sounded very much like a little sister forced to contemplate her brother’s love life. “Huh. I almost wish he was. He hasn’t really been interested in anyone since…”
Marguerite lifted her eyebrows. “Since?” There was an odd feeling in her gut. She examined it dispassionately and realized that it felt almost like jealousy.
Now you’re just being ridiculous.
“When the Saint died…” Wren spread her hands. “Women were always interested in him before.”
“I’m not surprised.”
“Yeah. They probably still would have been afterward, but it’s like he stopped caring very much.
And then he grew that beard.”
“Oh god, the beard.” No, women probably hadn’t been lining up to fight their way through that.
Wren shook her head. “Anyway,” she said, after a moment, “it took a couple of us that way.
Stephen…well, you know Stephen.”
Marguerite nodded, thinking of Grace’s somber paladin. “I imagine it was very hard.”
Wren shrugged one shoulder, clearly unwilling to get into details. “Yeah. But it’s been what, almost six years now? We move on or we don’t.”
“Yes, of course.” Marguerite bade Wren a pleasant night and retired to her bed. Well. That’s interesting.
And none of my business. Shane is probably still in mourning for his god. I don’t have the time, the energy, or the patience to compete with a ghost.
And while my ego is extremely well-developed, I also don’t know if I can compete with a god.
She thought about this for a few moments, then snorted into the darkness. If he keeps being
adorable and companionable, though, I might be tempted to give it a try.