"You," de Verceuil said in the same low voice.
Daoud swayed, and it came to him at once how best to respond. He would pretend to be too drunk to understand what was happening.
"You provoked these indiscretions," the cardinal ground out. The jeweled cross hanging on his chest winked and glittered as it rose and fell with his deep breathing.
Daoud put out a hand to grasp the back of his chair. Smiling at the cardinal, he leaned heavily on the chair and circled it methodically. He sat down heavily on the arm, almost tipping the chair over. Then he slid into the seat with a thump.
He looked up at de Verceuil and said, "What?"
The cardinal's hands—they were very large, Daoud saw—clenched and unclenched.
He wishes he could strangle me.
"Why have you tried to embarrass these ambassadors?" de Verceuil demanded. His voice was a good deal louder now.
Daoud let his head loll. He caught sight of Lorenzo again. The Sicilian was much closer. Daoud shook his head ever so slightly and jerked his chin.
Go away.