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She studied him for a moment, an expression he couldn’t quite categorize.

“The magic felt different here than in the square. More directional.”

“The founding-line runs through the cliff boundary. You’re more entangled with it here than anywhere else in town.”

“More entangled.” She tried the phrase.

“It means you can do more and things respond to you more here.”

She considered this. Then said, “Should someone look at that shoulder?”

“I’m fine.”

“You said that in the same tone as ‘the wound will close’ and ‘not tonight’ — the tone where you’re accurate and not planning to do what I’m asking.”

His wolf was delighted by this. Drayce was working on reacting differently.

“I’ll have it seen to.”

She gave him a flat, patient look — one that said managing people had taught her to spot a deflection the moment she heard it.

“I’m going back to the path,” she said.

“I’ll have someone walk you down. The path is uneven in the dark.”

“You just fought three things off a cliff, with a cut on your shoulder, and you’re concerned about my footing.”

He had nothing productive to add.

“Deputy Corin is going down in a few minutes. Walk with him.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. Decided and let it sit. “Five minutes.”

She walked back toward the path. He watched her go — his wolf cataloging the pace she’d chosen, neither hurried nor reluctant. Steady. He filed that away with everything else he wasn’t saying yet.

Pike materialized beside him. “She followed the evacuation crowd in the wrong direction.”

“Yes.”

“And then she stopped and stayed.”

“Yes.”

“On a cliff path. With active Rift creatures.”

“Your point?”

Pike wrote something. He seemed to be taking this information seriously. “And then she walked across open ground toward you after the fight.”

“Pike,” he said with enough exasperation that Pike grinned.

“I’m documenting.”

“Stop.”

“The documentation is important.” He turned a page. “Also, you let her look at the wound.”

Drayce said nothing.