32. Lunch
LUNCH
Sven walked over, smiling at Esmee. “The minister has invited the ambassador and you two to lunch.”
Marina pretended to stifle a sneeze so no one would notice her cringe.
“Lovely,” Esmee chirped.
Nerves of steel, Marina thought to herself. She wanted to ask Esmee if Esmee was listening in yet, but had not found a secure spot for such a conversation yet.
They piled into three sedans and headed across the Taedong to the Yanggakdo Hotel’s rooftop restaurant, which had a panoramic 360-degree view of the city. Miss Park and Miss Wu joined them at the hotel entrance—they had apparently been called in.
Marina had been hungry when they left the chancery. At least, she thought she had been. Now she stared at the bowl in front of her and tried not to breathe through her nose.
Steam curled from the broth. Usually it would have smelled good—sesame oil, garlic, something savory underneath—but today every breath brought another wave of nausea rolling through her stomach.
She picked up her chopsticks and took a bite. That was manageable. She chewed slowly and swallowed.
Across the table, Miss Park was watching her.
Marina picked up another piece of food, but her stomach lurched. She put it back down.
“Is it not good?” Miss Wu asked.
“I had a big breakfast.”
Ri looked up from his bowl.
Marina ignored him.
Esmee leaned closer. “You don’t look well,” she said in French.
Marina sat back in her chair and checked her phone—Aya and Giovanni should be up in the air by now, she had called about thirty minutes ago.
Miss Park and Miss Wu exchanged a look.
Marina saw it.
“What?”
Miss Park lowered her voice. “Perhaps we should take you to the clinic.”
Marina’s hand stopped around the glass. “I’m fine, thank you.”
“You don’t look fine,” Miss Wu said.
“I’m just tired.”
Miss Wu patted her hand sympathetically.
“We should have you checked,” Miss Park said. “After what happened to Mr. Giovanni?—”
“That’s alright. I will let you know if I need help.” Marina picked up her chopsticks and reached for the shredded radish salad.
“We don’t want anything to happen to you,” Miss Wu reminded her.
Too late for that. “Thank you. I’m quite healthy, though.”
“You could have another illness.”
“I don’t.”
“How do you know?”
Because she had a very good idea what was wrong with her.
Marina picked up her water and drank again.
Miss Park frowned.
Miss Wu looked at the lavish lunch she’d hardly eaten.
“You cannot eat.”
“I can eat.”
Marina ate more radish salad. It was light, refreshing.
Instant mistake. She covered her mouth.
Ri pushed his chair back slightly.
Marina held up a finger: wait.
She swallowed with considerable effort and immediately reached for her water.
Miss Park’s concern deepened. “We’re going to the clinic.”
“No, we’re not.”
“Miss Marina?—”
“I said no.”
The table went silent. The minister of Foreign Affairs and the Swedish ambassador both turned to her. On their left, Vice Minister Jung looked out over his spectacles.
“Still not used to the spice,” Marina deadpanned, and the minister smiled indulgently.
Only a few hours earlier Marina had summoned a doctor, medically evacuated a colleague, cut their delegation in half, and argued with Ministry officials because she refused to take chances with Giovanni’s health.
Now she wouldn’t even let someone take her temperature.
Marina knew how it looked.
Worse, she knew Ri knew how it looked.
She finally glanced at him.
He wasn’t eating anymore. He was looking between her water glass, the food she hadn’t touched, and then at her.
His face was frozen in that North Korea mask that she’d seen everyone wear. But for the first time, he was out in public, in full view of others, and his eyes registered something else.
Marina looked away before it snowballed.
Miss Wu sighed. “At least eat some rice.”
“I’ll try.”
“And if you feel worse?”
“I’ll tell you.”
“You promise?”
This time she patted Miss Wu’s hand. “Of course.”
Miss Park reluctantly returned to her meal. Ri did too. Nobody mentioned the clinic again.
But several minutes later, Marina reached for the water pitcher.
Ri reached for it at exactly the same time.
Their hands almost touched. He drew his back. Then, without saying anything, he filled her glass.
Marina looked up. His eyes met hers. There was no confusion in them. No question. Just a quiet, dawning certainty. A softness in his gaze. A flicker of pride.
Her heart skipped.
He knew why she was thirsty.
He knew.