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TO GEORGIE’S RELIEF, morning felt like morning the following day. Their breakfast basket came with a note. Practice space had been set aside for Connor and Iksander. They were instructed to proceed there at the second gong and work out.
“What about me?” Georgie wondered, since the note didn’t mention her.
“You should probably stick with us,” Iksander said. “We can’t assume you’re free to explore at will.”
She supposed this interpretation was sensible.
Exercise outfits were supplied for the men. The light gray wrap jackets and loose pants reminded her of karate gi. Georgie thought the men looked sharp but didn’t mind wearing her own things. Her old buckled leather trousers were comfort clothes to her.
The practice room the men had been allocated was an indoor tennis court with the net removed. Apparently, they were intended to provide entertainment immediately. A gallery along one side allowed courtiers to sidle in and watch.
That lots of females decided to stop by was no surprise to Georgie.
With no particular job to occupy her, she sat on the floor in a corner of the court and sketched the men running through their wrestling tricks. Though she was no da Vinci, drawing relaxed her. Thankfully, Iksander hadn’t used up the supplies he found in the little desk. She needed help ignoring the admiring murmurs up in the gallery.
More than simple hangers-on visited. Eleanor slipped up beside Georgie so quietly she didn’t notice the regent until she spoke.
“I see all your talents are slight,” was her not-so-polite comment.
“No, don’t rise,” she demurred when Georgie belatedly remembered she ought to. “You seem to have put yourself where you belong.”
Though she found the burn sort of funny—nobody but Georgie put Georgie in a corner—she decided she shouldn’t laugh. “I’m grateful I haven’t offended Your Highness.”
The yellow-haired royal made a vague humming noise. Interestingly, she wore male garb today. Her knee breeches and jacket were glittery silver with snowy lace foaming out at the neck and cuffs. Her heeled shoes had diamond buckles, and her silk hose showed off her calves.
Georgie suspected she knew how slick she looked.
At the moment, Eleanor was too busy drinking in the men’s appearance to require compliments. “Aren’t they agile?” she mused. “Especially the larger one. Those blue eyes of his make one shiver.”
“I suppose they do,” Georgie said.
She guessed it was okay to answer, because Eleanor tapped her lips. “Were it not for the bold manner in which he pins your leader, one would assume he’s completely sweet.”
“They trade pinning each other. To, uh, make it more interesting for the audience.”
Eleanor turned to her with a catlike smile. “Is an audience all you are to them?”
Probably it suited the regent that she blushed. “I’m not sure what Your Highness is getting at.”
“I’m asking if that very fine, very agile, very large specimen of maleness enjoys women.”
“He . . . does.” Georgie hesitated, aware she tiptoed between landmines. “I generally prefer to let him speak for himself.”
“Your discretion is laudable. Unnecessary, however, when I’m doing you the honor of asking.” The regent’s expression had turned stern. Georgie’s skin prickled. She had a feeling the djinniya was using—or trying to use—magic against her. Not reacting could betray her origins. Was she meant to be intimidated? Compelled?
“Forgive me?” Georgie said helplessly.
This wasn’t the correct response. Eleanor narrowed her dark blue eyes. “He makes love to you, doesn’t he? Actual penetration in your actual pussy?”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Vigorously?”
“Sometimes. He isn’t rough, if that’s what you mean.”
Eleanor scoffed and pinkie fluffed her hair. “You are a country girl, aren’t you? Never mind. I’m sure he can be stirred to vigor, given an appropriate spur.”
In case Georgie doubted Eleanor meant herself, she slid her slender, ring-laden hands down to her trim waist. Her attention was all for Connor, her wet tongue curling over her upper lip as she watched him confer with Iksander on the finer points of a shoulder flip. Her preening made Georgie want to sock her. The regent acted as if Georgie hadn’t the slightest claim to her own lover—or none Eleanor couldn’t overrule. Then again, Eleanor might not think Connor himself had the right to refuse her.
Her annoyance must have leaked past her control. Eleanor turned to her. “Your chambers are acceptable?” she inquired. “You have sufficient food and other necessities?”
This seemed a reminder that their comfort depended on their hosts. Georgie bowed her head to answer. “Your palace is a marvel. Your Highnesses are generous.”
“Of course we are,” said another voice. “Our natures are wise and bountiful.”
Georgie jerked. Henri had glided onto the court as silently as his sister. More on the ball this time, Georgie pushed up hastily and curtsied. This didn’t please Eleanor, though she’d been the one who told her to stay seated.
She frowned disapprovingly at her twin. “I thought you were tied up with our security chief.”
“We finished early,” Henri replied smugly.
A thump from across the room caused his head to swivel toward Connor and Iksander. Connor had flipped the sultan onto his back and was standing over him. Georgie guessed the men had warmed up. They’d removed the belted jackets they’d come in with. Sweat gleamed on their bare torsos.
“My,” Henri murmured, two fingers and a thumb steepled at his mouth. “The pretty one is large, isn’t he?”
“We agreed on this,” his sister hissed.
“You agreed. I said I’d consider waiting till you were done. Given the pretty one’s formidable attractions, you being finished could take a while.”
“There are other toys in this box.”
Henri turned back to wink alarmingly at Georgie. Even in the marble paleness of his face, his wolfish grin was brilliant. “Some people don’t mind sharing.”
Eleanor crossed her arms. “I absolutely didn’t agree to that.”
Henri chucked his sister’s chin. “You shouldn’t be so attractive when you’re angry. It makes provoking you rewarding.”
“Henri—”
“Not here,” he scolded. “The toys will get nervous.”
Georgie didn’t know if they thought she was deaf or too stupid to understand. Maybe it didn’t matter. No longer concerned with her, Henri signaled Connor and Iksander to approach. Connor didn’t make himself any less appealing by toweling his face and chest.
He and Iksander bowed simultaneously.
“Goodness,” Henri said. “You can shake hands with me like men.”
He pumped Iksander’s perfunctorily, then held Connor’s a bit longer . . . clasping it in two hands instead one. His slow withdrawal a moment later was unmistakably caressing.
“Your Highnesses,” Iksander said. “Thank you for honoring us.”
He might as well not have spoken. Henri’s gaze was glued to Connor’s.
“Do you have notes for us?” Connor asked.
Henri laughed softly. His fingertips traced a path up and down his own tunic front. He’d dressed in watered blue silk today, the color reminiscent of Connor’s eyes. “I confess I was too distracted to do more than admire your athleticism. I’d relish grappling with you myself.”
“The wrestling Andrei and I do takes training. I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
“You might be surprised how little that concerns me.”
Connor had sexual buttons, some of which involved pretend force. Henri’s answer pushed them. Color washed into his cheeks.
“You are too delicious,” Henri purred. “I’m so grateful the three of you broke the law.”
This startled Connor into blinking. “I thought you’d pardoned us.”
“I have,” Henri said with the same wolfish grin as before.
“We have,” Eleanor interrupted, sliding her hand sideways to wind around Henri’s. “Our middle name is Mercy.”
“Practically,” Henri corrected waggishly. “Now and then we let other traits come forward.”
~
THOUGH THEY’D RETURNED safely to their rooms, Connor continued to rub the hand Henri had caressed against his loose trousers. The last person who’d caused him this much unease at a proposition was Georgie’s former guardian. Henri was as beautiful as the empress and just as predatory.
Attractiveness aside, Connor preferred his free will be respected.
“I don’t get them,” Georgie said. “Why concoct the crazy-ass story that they’re second cousins if they’re actually interested in other partners? I thought they were so obsessed with each other no one else measured up. If that’s not true, why didn’t they marry people they aren’t related to?”
She flopped down into a loveseat, her leg slung across one arm while the sultan perched on the other. Seemingly without self-consciousness, she laid her head on his thigh. Iksander wasn’t as natural. He fondled a tuft of her spiky hair as if he were still testing his right to caress her.
“Perhaps,” he said, “when the regents devised the tale, they thought they’d be obsessed forever. Forbidden desires can be powerful.”
“I guess they got over that.” Georgie wagged her booted foot thoughtfully. “Or maybe these games keep the spice going. They certainly weren’t shy about competing to seduce Connor. Given how Eleanor was dressed, she seemed to be suggesting she wears the pants in the family too.”
Iksander laughed and glanced at him. “What did you make of them?”
Connor considered his answer. “I think they’ve probably fought—and competed—since they were young. I think it’s their dynamic. Their mutual connection may be stronger than any other, but it’s also too close to be peaceful.”
“Peacefulness definitely isn’t their main vibe.” Georgie shook her head and wriggled sideways to face him. “I know Henri attracted you, but getting caught between those two could get uncomfortable.”
“You don’t want me to sleep with them.”
“Given my druthers, no. On the other hand, you belong to you.”
“We are committed, you and I.”
“We are,” she agreed. “And I admit I pretty much hate the idea of either of them putting their hands on you.”
“I don’t like the idea of them touching you.”
Georgie pursed her mouth humorously. “Someone might have to take one for the team.”
“I’d rather that was me,” he said firmly.
His palm was itching again. He’d started rubbing it on his jacket when Iksander let out an exclamation and grabbed his wrist. “I thought him shaking hands was out of character. Look. Henri left a secret message on Connor’s palm. The letters are starting to appear.”
Georgie sat up and leaned to see.
“‘Delicious Creature,’” Iksander read. “‘If your appetites are as sharp as mine, meet me in the chamber behind the dining hall tomorrow. You’ll know I’m whetted and waiting when this message begins to pulse.’ He signed it with a fancy H—presumably so you’d have no doubt which regent invited you.”
Connor stared at the note. His heart had accelerated. Despite his apprehension, he thought he might be flattered. Of the three of them, only he’d been chosen.
He looked at Georgie, unable to explain his mixed feelings.
“It’s okay if you kind of want to go,” she said. “Seriously, neither of us can judge.”
“He’s a bad person.”
“He’s a sexy bad person. And you’re the only angel here.”
“We wouldn’t rather you hated the idea,” Iksander said, glancing toward Georgie to get her nod. “And who knows what Henri wants? You might be able to eke out the feast, course by course.”
“You mean stall for time.”
“Exactly,” Iksander said. “Historically, royals aren’t immune to seducers who play hard to get.”
~
WAITING UNTIL THEY could tiptoe out strained Georgie’s patience to its limit. The palace gongs stopped at midnight, after which gauging the hour was guesswork. Only Iksander seemed able to do that. Djinn instinct was how he explained it. He had an instinct for when she’d ask for an update too. After the first few times, he clucked his tongue and answered before her mouth opened.
“All right,” he finally said. “Pull on a pair of slippers. It’s late enough.”
The slippers were part of the bath supplies, stretchy and soft-soled like ballet shoes. Connor had the bright idea of charming them to confound watch spells. Georgie donned hers and grabbed the paper with her chosen sleep incantation. She’d barely started looking for a pencil when Connor tossed her one.
Evidently, both men read her with no trouble.
Their journey through the back halls passed easily enough. They shrank back once to avoid a servant carrying a covered dish. After that, they met no one.
Iksander stopped to give her instructions at the bottom landing of a stairwell.
“This is the tunnel level,” he informed her quietly. “The guard is posted to our right. I’ll open the door a crack so you can see him. Draw him standing up and sleeping. Then read the spell silently. If you need more power to put him under, add one of the symbols I showed you. Don’t overdo it. We don’t want him collapsing. If he wakes in a heap on the floor, he’ll know he was enchanted.”
Georgie nodded. He’d explained this before, but hearing it again calmed her.
He looked from her to Connor then opened the door a few inches.
Georgie had to lean against him to peer out. She got a bead on the guard’s profile, which she was going to copy to aim the spell. Iksander’s arm braced the paper as she sketched, his steadiness reassuring her. She copied the guard’s stiff black uniform, his tall boots, the jut of his chin and nose. She made his imaginary version lean on the wall and drew his lashes closed. Satisfied she’d caught his likeness, she recited Iksander’s chant silently but with her lips moving.
After a couple repetitions, Iksander nudged her and nodded.
She glanced up and found the guard asleep exactly as she’d portrayed him. That pleased her so much she grinned.
Iksander opened the door slowly. In single file, they crept down the stark black hall. Reaching the guard made her heart race, but they got past him too. Because only Iksander could see in the next dark passage, they held hands to continue. Their slippers made shuffling noises until he murmured a muffling spell.
“We’re here,” he said at last. “I’ll call up a little glow so you can see the seal.”
“Hm,” she said once he’d cupped a soft gold light. “The spellwork seems familiar. Luna made this, I think.”
“That wouldn’t surprise me. It’s very powerful.”
Georgie traced her fingers around the brass circles. As she did, surprisingly clear pictures rose in her mind. “It’s meant to swing open, like a hatch on a submarine.”
“So we don’t have to crack the seal?”
“I suspect it’s important not to. I hear Luna’s voice saying the mantra you described. ‘Nothing in, nothing out.’” She exhaled through pursed lips, trying to relax and not think too hard. She saw Luna’s hands, pale and beautiful, moving in a pattern on the symbols. Georgie copied what they did.
Like a tumbler dropping in a safe, a chunk sounded in the wall. A separation appeared around the outermost brass circle.
“It is a hatch,” Connor said.
“We have to slip in quickly,” Georgie said. “And close it again behind us. I’m not sure why, but it’s important.”
“Are we agreed we should continue?” Iksander asked.
Georgie and Connor exchanged glances. Connor nodded. Decided, she heaved the door open. She let the men hurry in then followed and shut it.
“Holy smokes,” Connor exclaimed for all of them.
They’d stepped into a large brass pipe. Built in heavy sections perhaps ten feet in diameter, the floor was scattered with metal odds and ends. It wasn’t a sewer, because it wasn’t grimy or bad smelling. The tunnel’s most notable quality—and the one that made Connor swear—was the magic that seemed to pack every molecule. Georgie’s skin prickled so intensely it felt like an ant army crawled on her. She put her hands to her head. The spikes of her hair were vibrating.
Still cupping his palm light, Iksander turned in a slow circle. “Never in my life have I felt power this unadulterated. There’s no dross in it whatsoever. It’s got to be six nines fine.”
Georgie believed the term came from measuring purity in gold. She scrubbed at her arms. To her, this much power was uncomfortable.
Suddenly, Iksander’s expression changed. “I think I know where we are, and it’s not the passage to a portal. This must be a conduit to Hodensk, the plant that replaced the one we were squatting in.”
“You mean the regents have their own unlimited free spigot?”
“Yes, they do.” He blew out an angry breath. “Leaders are supposed to manage resources for their people, not skim off what they please to benefit themselves.”
“That doesn’t explain why the power’s so pure.”
“That I can’t answer. I suppose their refining process is more sophisticated than my city’s. Luna was very gifted. She could have come up with improved techniques.”
He seemed annoyed by this. Connor reached out to squeeze his arm.
“It could be argued,” he said, “that the regents stole our take from the theater—plus whatever we’d have netted if they hadn’t arrested us. Wouldn’t we be justified in filching what we need from this supply?”
Iksander laughed. “I’m not as finicky about respecting their laws as you. Thank you, though, for reminding me of our goal. Maybe we should walk farther. See if there’s a container we can use to carry magic out.”
Georgie was all about finding useful junk, but they poked through two sections fruitlessly. As she swung over the bolted flange to the third, her foot bumped something.
“Bring your light here,” she urged. “Something’s lying across the passageway.”
Iksander came.
When she saw what she’d almost stepped on, she let out a muffled shrieked.
The corpse was the charcoal black of an old mummy. Empty sockets stared where its eyes had been, its leathery flesh sunken to its bones.
“God,” she said, her hand to her pounding chest. “What is that doing here?”
“Maybe the same as we are,” Iksander theorized. “Plenty of djinn would be tempted to steal extra amperage.”
“Does that mean the tunnel is booby-trapped?”
“No, no. Booby-traps wouldn’t be convenient. The regents need to siphon off power safely. And do occasional maintenance. Now that I think of it, this poor fellow might have been sent to handle either one.”
“He can’t have died very long ago,” Connor said. “He’s wearing the same uniform as the guard outside. It hasn’t moldered or anything.”
Fighting her dread, Georgie leaned closer. The men seemed calm. Maybe she’d find a slash or burn mark on the clothes, some sign the djinni was killed by a plain old person and not Tutankhamen’s curse. She reached for a fold that might be obscuring evidence.
The second she touched the body it dissolved into a pool of tar.
“Shit,” she gasped, stumbling back into the curving wall. If this had been a movie, there’d have been another corpse behind her. There wasn’t, thank God, but a realization popped into her head that was nearly as horrible. “The demon cloud got him! This is what Neisha described happening to Paulette. When the cloud caught her, she collapsed in on herself like a rotting banana. This must be the demon’s lair. We have to get out of here right now!”
“Shh.” Iksander caught her arm and rubbed it. “We’re not in danger. Not this second anyway. Let’s see if we can get what we came for and not panic.”
“That courtier the regents killed said the cloud was chasing people. He said it called a man by name.”
“We’ll be quick then. Don’t forget, Lord Moore said some people claimed the cloud spoke, not that it did for sure.”
“That distinction isn’t comforting me right now.”
The sultan smiled and cupped her cheek, one fingertip skimming her eyebrow. “I know you have enough nerve for this. I’ve seen you under fire.”
She didn’t want credit for that right now. She wanted to turn and run.
“I found something,” Connor said. He showed them a length of pipe as tall as he was, with a five-inch diameter. “One of the ends is already capped. All we need is a second stopper and for Georgie to draw a protective seal. It’s heavy, but I can carry it by myself. Magic doesn’t weigh anything.”
Iksander rubbed his chin. “I suppose that would work. It is a bit conspicuous. We’ll have to be extra careful we don’t get caught.”
“Start filling it up,” Georgie urged. “I’ll look around for another cap.”
Despite Iksander’s faith in her, her anxiety wasn’t settling. Her throat grew tighter as she nudged her slipper through the rubbish on the floor. Mixed in with the metal odds and ends were paper wrapping and splintery wood. Nothing looked the right size and shape.
Think, she ordered. You know how to get creative.
A springy coil of brass caught her eye. She snatched it up with a trembling hand.
“The guard’s boot!” she blurted. “Drop it over the end, and I’ll draw the seal on the sole. We can cinch it tight with this.”
“Good idea,” Connor said an instant before ice water sluiced down her spine.
Luna’s child, a voice whispered in the distance. Luna’s child, come feed me.
“Shit,” she gasped, spinning toward the sound. Did the blackness of the tunnel look more like smoke? Was it perhaps moving?
Iksander cocked his head as if he were listening. She wasn’t imagining things. He’d also heard something.
“Go,” she squeaked, all the sound she got out. “The cloud is coming. It spoke to me.”
Thankfully, Iksander didn’t argue. He seized one boot from the mummy’s tar, tossed it to Connor, and dashed back to grab her arm. Realizing she’d been frozen stupidly in place made her heart thunder.
“Go fast,” Iksander hissed, shoving Connor forward as they bumped into him. “Just hold the boot on as best you can. Your intent keeps the magic in.”
Georgie wanted to say screw stealing Luna’s power. Getting out alive was more important. Because that seemed cowardly, she gritted her teeth and ran. An essence stormier than spellcraft was thickening the air. It dimmed Iksander’s palm light, which caused Connor to stumble. When Iksander grabbed his arm, the light winked out completely. Georgie moaned, her fear escalating beyond her power to control. She and Connor were blind. Nothing could save them now.
“No,” Iksander snapped sternly. “By the power of the All-Seeing Eye, I share my sight with you.”
The wrist he’d clamped his fingers around went hot. Georgie could see then, as if she’d been given night vision gear. Connor could too. He scrambled up, still carrying the stupid pipe. Whatever, though. As long as they kept running. They had two more tunnel sections left before the exit.
Georgie made the mistake of glancing back.
The rubble on the floor wasn’t all she could see. The demon cloud was yards behind them, mocking her with the leering face she’d seen in Prospekt Market. Georgie, its smoky lips teased her.
Her knees buckled, maybe from terror or the cloud’s evil influence. Whatever the cause, her legs were as useful as jelly.
“Lift her,” Iksander ordered Connor.
Both men grabbed her beneath the arms. They didn’t simply pick her off her feet, they flew. Iksander took his smoke form, and Connor levitated like he had for the wrestling play. The remaining length of the tunnel blurred. Barely decelerating, they bounced off the hatch to stop.
Iksander gripped her shoulder. “Work the lock, Georgie.”
Her mind went blank for a bad second. She shook herself and wrapped both hands around the inside lever. Like before, memories that weren’t hers bubbled up. The code was a phrase this time.
“We mean no harm. Let us out.”
The door swung open. Iksander hauled them all out together, landing them in a tangled pile. The demon cloud hissed as he reached back to slam the hatch shut again. A tendril had gotten out. It lashed like the tail of an angry cat then puffed into nothing.
“Jesus,” Georgie swore shakily.
“Is it locked?” Connor asked.
Georgie felt the wall cautiously. The door seam had disappeared. Even better, the brass symbols were cool and quiet. “It’s locked. Are we all in one piece?”
“I think so.” Iksander patted his chest as if to make sure he was solid.
“I’ve got the pipe,” Connor announced. “And the boot. And I hardly spilled any. If Georgie wants, she can draw the seal.”
Georgie used a shred of her ragged breath to laugh. “Happy to. As soon as my hands stop shaking.”
Actually, they didn’t dare stay where they were long enough for that. They weren’t out of the woods yet. Georgie sketched the protection as legibly as she could, and they continued without delay. Finding the guard leaning on the wall where they’d left him was surreal. He was fast asleep, completely unaware of their—and his—close escape from the demon cloud. Iksander didn’t direct her to end his nap until they were in the stairwell and two flights up. After that, they had a few near misses with weary servants but reached their suite safely.
Stepping back among the fussy French furnishings was anticlimactic.
“Home sweet home,” Connor said, seeming to understand the irony of his words. He lifted his prize slightly. “I need to find somewhere to hide this in case our rooms are searched. It is a pipe. Maybe the bath would be a good place.”
He went to stow it, leaving Georgie and Iksander alone in the sitting room.
A single crystal pendant lamp cast a glow on one of the small tables. Though the light was muted, Iksander didn’t turn others on. Instead, he took a chair by the window to stare into more darkness. Georgie debated whether to go to him then decided what the hell. At the least, they’d become a team. If he wanted to be alone, he could say so.
He didn’t object when she stood behind him to rub his shoulders. Touching him felt new but not unnatural. Maybe he felt the same. He squeezed her hand without shifting his attention from the snow-laden trees outside.
Georgie combed her fingers through his soft hair. “We’d probably freeze if we were out there, but that forest is beautiful.”
“Yes. It’s primeval. Peaceful.” He fell silent again, brooding perhaps, then turned his head to her. “You said the cloud spoke to you. What did it say?”
“It called me Luna’s child.”
“Because you were her ward.”
“I guess. I don’t know how it knew. Then it said ‘come feed me.’”
He frowned. “That sounds like a conscious entity.”
“Could Luna have made the demon cloud? Could it have served her somehow?”
“I wouldn’t rule that out, though from what we know, it sounds as if it’s evolving, as if the victims it takes bring it more alive. Perhaps the first kill was accidental. Now it seems it’s hunting deliberately.”
Georgie suppressed a shiver. “It’s a monster making itself.”
“I believe so.” He twisted on his seat toward her. “My theory is Luna didn’t intend to create it. I think it’s a side effect of how she set up the power plant. Whether magic comes raw from the earth or radiated by a djinni, it contains impurities. Other systems don’t remove them to that degree.”
“You think the demon cloud is made of what the plant filters out.”
“I do.”
“No wonder Henri and Eleanor killed Lord Moore for speaking to the press. They don’t want the public catching wind of the true problem.” The ramifications of the regents’ silence gave her another chill. “What they’re doing is really dangerous. They must realize the cloud is becoming more powerful.”
“They may be somewhat in denial but, yes, on some level they have to be aware. They’re probably reluctant to kill the golden goose. In truth, they might not be able to fix Hodensk. They’re canny, but Luna was a genius.”
“She must have realized it was happening.”
Iksander’s shoulders lifted and dropped, his eyes serious on hers. “She may have planned to fix the problem later. In the short term, she had uses for all that power.”
“You mean petrifying your city.”
“That feat also required death magic but, yes, having Hodensk’s reserves at her disposal helped.”
Georgie’s eyes suddenly went hot. She gripped his chair back for control, but Iksander saw her emotion.
“We’ll save my people,” he assured her. “We’re closer than we were before.”
Georgie nodded. “One step at a time.”
Smiling faintly, he pressed soft lips to her knuckles.
“Done,” Connor announced, reentering the room. “We’ve got an extra pipe under our soaker tub.”
“Good thinking,” Iksander said.
“Bed?” Connor asked. “I need to rest after all that running for our lives. Also, I wouldn’t mind snuggling the pair of you.”
He seemed to be testing Iksander’s reaction to this idea. If it were a test, the sultan passed. His green eyes crinkled with fondness. “You, my friend, have your priorities in order.”