She did not go in.
This was not for her. This was for him — this specific moment, in this specific workshop, with this specific mechanism in his hands and whatever was happening in his face that she could see the edge of but did not need to see the full extent of.
Fen appeared silently beside her at the doorway.
"He's good," Fen said quietly, watching Samuel and the craftsman, who had apparently found a language in common and were now engaged in what appeared to be a genuine conversation about how one of the mechanisms worked.
"Yes," Elara said.
"The craftsman doesn't know who he is."
"No."
"That's good," Fen said. "Probably."
"Definitely," Elara said. "He spends too much time with people who know who he is."
Fen considered this. "So do you."
Elara looked at her.
