"Try this. Be careful, the cup is hot."
She took the cup from him, her fingers brushing his. He felt a tingle in his arm. She raised the cup, sniffed suspiciously and grimaced, but took a small sip.
He was disappointed to see her mouth pucker. She did not like it. Well, he could not expect her to take to it at once. He had been drinking it ever since he was a child. Even his crusader family had drunk kaviyeh.
"A very interesting taste," she said, handing back the cup. A Byzantine comment, he thought. He heard Lorenzo chuckle.
A pang of jealousy shot through him. He could not expect her to like kaviyeh any more than he could expect her to love him. Especially not after she had been alone in the Monaldeschi atrium with that damned French count.
His longing for Sophia made his heart ache. If only he could have her for himself, and not be forced to throw her at Simon de Gobignon. But she was no more his than that emerald Baibars had entrusted to him.
Resignedly he told himself he must find out what she had accomplished.
"How did you deal with the Frankish count?"
"As you wished me to."
He walked back to the cardinal's table and turned to face her. Her amber eyes were fixed on him. She must have been watching him cross the room.