Fire Nectar 2 by Faleena Hopkins Page A

marvelous. I find the air a bit stale, is it not?” He unlatched the door and opened it wide, not waiting for an answer. Cool air swept in at once.
    Wolfl squirmed, and chuckled lightly. “You wish us both to catch our death of cold, I see.” He hoped the hint would hit its mark. It did not.
    Ludovico turned. “Very lucky indeed.” His eyes danced as though he knew a secret. And he did.
    Wolfl blinked. “Oui. Luck. But one achieves success when one has worked their entire life honing one’s talents. Would you not agree?”
    Ludovico nodded as though he did. “The law of perseverance, you mean.”
    Wolfl smiled, his ego puffing up to support him. “Dedication!”
    “Ah.” Tilting his head, Ludovico watched Wolfl. “Tell me… how long did it take you to complete the piece?”
    “Monsieur?”
    “’Non Plus Ultra.’ How long did you toil on it night after night until it was perfect in every way? And what was your inspiration? I’m dying of curiosity.” Ludovico’s eyes sparkled as he threw his victim off balance by asking, “Have you any snuff?”
    Wolfl started, confused. He stuttered the answer, “Indeed, I have some. Would you care to…”
    “No. Never touch the stuff.” Ludovico waved his hand as if the idea was absurd.
    Wolfl blinked. It felt as though the room was closing in on him and, even though a strong cold wind blew steadily in, he began to feel sweat form in the nether regions of his form. He tugged at his neckcloth, looking down to the rug beneath him, then to the table to where he’d left his glass. He’d never seen an expression so disturbing as the one staring back at him and he could not meet it. Accidentally reverting back to English, he stammered, “Sir, if you please, I…”
    “Francais s’il vous plaît.” Ludovico instructed calmly–too calmly.
    Suddenly Wolfl felt rage boil in his chest. He would not be made to feel so unnerved in his own home! He was not a slight figure and his mind was sharp and cunning. For him to feel like a boy trapped in a lion’s cage incensed him. He thrust out his chin and defiantly answered in English, “The night has come to an end. I have a full day tomorrow and…” He stopped as he saw Ludovico very purposefully lay his hand atop the ornate half full bottle of Burgandy.
    “Speak. In. French.” Ludovico commanded as he pushed the bottle until it crashed into a cracking explosion of wet, broken glass on the floor.
    Wolfl lost all sense of propriety, yelling, “What is this nonsense? What did you do that for and why must I speak in French?”
    Without warning, Joshua appeared on the balcony accompanied by a strong whip of air and a strangely silent landing. Wolfl gasped to see his old friend standing before them, having just swooped in from the rooftop of all things! Looking directly at him with an icy stare, Joshua spoke with the same odd stillness of the other, with nothing moving on him but his lips. “You know I do not speak any other language, Joseph. And it is rude to not include me in the conversation. Wouldn’t you agree?”
    Wolfl stepped back in surprise. “Joshua? What the devil?” His eyes narrowed as he tried desperately to understand what was happening. “What were you doing on my roof? And how did you–”
    Ludovico spoke over him as he bantered with Joshua, playfully chiding him. “You really must learn more languages if we mean to travel together. I can’t translate for you forever, you know.”
    Joshua walked into the room and shut the door, smiling. “It is not something I’m proud of. I led a sheltered life.”
    “A ghastly flaw, indeed,” Ludovico mused.
    “Indeed.” Joshua repeated as he closed the curtains with an eerie slowness. “I never found the time.”
    “Time is not something you now lack.”
    Poor Wolfl was at a loss entirely. “Joshua, answer me! How did you come down from the roof? I’m sure I don’t have the slightest idea…”
    Joshua continued to ignore him as he bowed to Ludovico.