The Spy and Her Serpent by Maria Ying

Author:Maria Ying
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hua Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Interlude: At Any Cost

The last recruit has left the boardroom. It signals, at least for a while, peace and quiet.

Yves is not yet alone. Chang’er has remained behind, one of Viveca’s undercover specialists, seconded here to facilitate much of what goes on in Americatown. She is pouring Yves iced tea. “You must be exhausted.”

Yves brewed the tea herself, and has watched over its transformation into a cold beverage; she drinks without hesitation. Not that she imagines Chang’er might poison her, but it pays to be careful when on foreign shores. “No, not particularly.” This is a lie, of course. Her time in Singapore has not been physically demanding—she would have preferred the honesty of hard labor—but it has been mentally draining. Guarding a woman she loathes, having to spend too much time with Olesya’s menagerie. Peculiar creatures, effusive in their regard for their queen to the point of obsession. Uncharitably, she feels as if she’s inside a cult again.

Chang’er drinks from her own glass. “There’s this Hainanese chicken place down the block. My treat, Ms. Hua.”

She never thought she’d have a surname again. But even if she hasn’t grown accustomed to hearing it, several years on, she likes what it signifies. Abruptly she is gripped with the need to run her fingers through Viveca’s long, sleek hair. Ridiculous—it has only been a week since Viveca saw her off at the airport. She changes tracks: “Isn’t that what you call your employer?”

“That’s what I used to call her. She’s Mrs. Hua now.” Chang’er smirks. “How did you figure out who’s going to be the Ms. and who’s going to be the Mrs.?”

“Etymology.” Bad etymology: Yves became convinced, at one point, that Mrs. stood for mistress in the seventeenth century and Ms. didn’t. It turned out that both honorifics amounted to more or less the same thing. Whether Viveca was aware at the time, she has come to indulge Yves on it. “And she likes to sound obviously married.”

“To fend off covetous girls.” She laughs, musical. “Like me.”

Yves does recall that Chang’er has tried to seduce Viveca before; drawn to power, she thinks. “I have a business call scheduled.” Not exactly untrue. “Bring some of that chicken rice back for me, if you could.”

The woman pouts. She has a face quite made for it. “You’re such a tough nut to crack. Very well. I’ll be back in an hour and fifteen minutes.”

Yves can’t tell whether Chang’er is flirting with her. Probably—the undercover girls, to hear Fahriye tell it, are insatiable. But Yves’ appetites and heart both point in one direction. Homeward, to two women and no other.

Chang’er takes her leave. There are some ten minutes to go before the call, and Yves passes it by watching a live feed of an aquarium in Krungthep. Otters fleeting through water, penguins swimming in what must be glacial temperature, their antics on display through floor-to-ceiling glass. It’s relaxing, mindless, and she could draw a metaphor between the birds oblivious in their captivity and the ordinary populace of Singapore.

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