Marisa couldn't get him out of her head for the next week. She had never realised just how boring her life was. Boring people, boring things, boring conversations. He was the only thing worth thinking about.
She was sitting in the library one day, taking notes from a book on experimental theology, when she heard him say "Hello" and looked up to find him there. She was startled, but quickly hid it beneath her perfect mask.
"Lord Asriel," she said. "What an unexpected surprise!"
"That is a tautology. If it were expected it would not be a surprise."
"There is such a thing as an expected surprise. If one were to know that there were to be a surprise, but not what said surprise was, then that would be an expected surprise." It was dubious, yes, but she couldn't let him have the last word.
To her relief, he looked grudgingly impressed.
"I'm sorry I had to leave so suddenly last week," she said: it was polite, but genuine. As genuine as anything Marisa said, anyway. "Edward is so over-protective that he gets jealous if I spend five minutes outside his company. Which is much less entertaining than yours, incidentally."
"Thank you. Although, having met your husband a few times, I doubt that what you're saying is actually much of a compliment."
She mentally nodded to herself, running through a checklist of exactly how to act built up from prior experience. This was much more comfortable territory for her. Now to pretend to show doubt, to hesitate. "I'm sorry – I shouldn't have said that – I'm married – if anyone found out – "
"Do you care about – convention?" he asked, sounding a little disappointed.
"No, I care about what people will think if I don't follow convention."
"Well, we'll just have to make sure people don't find out, then." He smiled lazily.
This was exactly what Marisa had been hoping for, but she hadn't quite dared to expect it. "Yes," she said after a suitable pause. "I suppose you're right." The golden monkey slipped away from the shoulder he'd been clinging to into the middle of the table. She pretended not to observe his own dæmon moving underneath in a similar way, purring.
"Shall we continue our discussion where we left off the other day?" he asked.
"Yes. What you were saying about the regulation of science could easily be seen as heresy, you know."
"Define heresy for me."
"Certainly," said Marisa, who had practically memorised every Church decree in the last three centuries. "According to the Decree of Geneva, 1876, heresy is defined as questioning or going against the word of God as shown by the Bible or by any officially recognised prophet or saint, or by a sign approved by the College of Bishops or the Society of the Works of the Holy Spirit."
"And has God ever pronounced on the regulation of science?"
"…No," admitted Marisa reluctantly, "but many of the scientific works which could have been allowed to progress unchecked would be classed as heresy."
"But saying that regulation shouldn't be so strict isn't heresy, is it?"
"Not technically, but…" She was being forced to doubt, now. She refused to believe his words. "I doubt the Church would see it that way. If you said that in front of anyone…"
"Other than you? I presume you wouldn't – "
Marisa felt that last remark was just a tiny bit over the line. "I wouldn't presume, if I were you."It was wise just to remind him, only a little, that he couldn't trust her. Not yet. "But… no, I won't. You're a controversial enough figure as it is. I wouldn't be surprised if they had their eye on you by now."
"Nor would I. But I don't particularly care if they do."
To Marisa, this was unthinkable. She couldn't find words to express her shock or inability to understand his view. "You don't care about the Church? How can you – the Church is everything, you can't just not care about it!"
"I can, and I will," he replied, as if there was nothing she could do to change his mind.
"I care about the Church. The Church is the only way to get anywhere in this world."
He seemed about to say something, but then stopped and resumed with "I should go. I have to look up some figures."
"I haven't offended you, I hope?" she asked, trying to think of some possible explanation for this abrupt departure. No obvious ones sprung to mind.
"No," he replied, standing up, "not at all. I hope to see you again soon."
"We could meet," she said, speaking quickly before she began to doubt herself. She needed to see him again. "Here. The same time. Tomorrow?"
"Not tomorrow. I have a meeting in Parliament. The day after?"
Marisa nodded, and he turned to walk away.
She turned the situation over in her mind, again and again, as she watched him leave, and for some time afterwards. What could she make of him? It seemed almost as if she'd failed a test. Was he trying to get her to admit that she, too, didn't care about the Church? Was he disappointed that she did?
But there was this new meeting: he wanted to see her again. Was this a success? Or something completely different?
She knew she was running a huge risk. The consequences if Edward found out would be unbearable. But… somehow, it didn't quite seem to matter, because this was Lord Asriel. For a moment, she felt that she was out of her depth with him, that she'd made a huge mistake.
She could walk away now, except she couldn't. That would be letting him win, and Marisa had never been able to stand losing. She would not lose to him.