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“Are you worried about him?”
“Who? Partitio?”
“Crick,” Throné said, rolling her eyes. “Are you worried about him?”
Temenos snorted at that. “Worried?” he repeated. “Whatever for?”
And that gave her pause for a moment, frowning as she thought to herself. She glanced out at the darkness. “He’s a good man,” she finally said, her eyes saying a million things neither of them could articulate.
Temenos turned away, wind tousling his hair. “I suppose he is,” he said with a humorless smile. “But all the more reason not to get too attached, hmm?”
(In which Temenos decides to go on a late night stroll)
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