Wouldn’t you tell someone with that smile everything he wanted to know?” she demanded. “The first time I met him—well, the second . . .” he corrected himself, “he had a smile that I wanted to wipe off his face.” He was referring to that early morning in front of the Central Gate. “But it wasn’t that smile,” Palandine insisted. “No,” he conceded. “Definitely not that one.” And the truth was that I could feel this smile throughout my entire body.
