Bab 177: 174: Truth; but your words were nothing

“Ask what?“ Inquired the painter, his voice deep and unnervingly calm as he looked at the Duke of York.

Adrastus' eyes narrowed. Silver irises gleamed with annoyance as he walked closer to the Marquess of Wales, long strides carrying him faster.

“Perhaps,” he drawled, voice dry as the desert on a cruel summer day. “Marquess Meyer's memory is as bad as I had suspected, after all.“

Drystan tilted his head, confusion coloured his features as he blinked, slowly and somewhat owlishly. “Pardon, Your Grace?“ He hummed. “Is there something that I've perhaps done to offend you yet again?“

The Duke of York smiled, appearing gentle and good-natured as he shook his head. “How can it be?“ He began slowly, voice dripping with a healthy dose of sarcasm. “All Marquess Meyer has done is not take heed to my words of advice. So—” he paused, eyes narrowing “—how is it?“