The silence lasted four seconds.
Seren counted them.
"Say that again," he said.
"I know," Caelan said. "I've known for approximately three weeks."
Seren looked at him.
The controlled face. The even voice. The man sitting across from him with his hands flat on his knees and his expression giving nothing away and his eyes giving everything away, for once, to someone paying close enough attention.
"How," Seren said.
"Damien's report. The prescription change. The private clinic on Alderton Street." A pause. "The timeline."
"The timeline," Seren repeated.
"From the night at the club. The math isn't complicated."
Seren stood up.
He walked to the window.
He stood there with his back to the room and his hands at his sides and looked at the city outside, dark now, the lights of it doing their indifferent evening thing forty-three floors below.
"Three weeks," he said. "You've known for three weeks and you said nothing."
"No."
