Elizabeth sat down beside him on the step, an action she had not intended but felt was necessary in the moment. The stone beneath them was cold, and the night air held the distinct quality of early autumn evenings in Aethelgard—just cool enough to be refreshing but still a reminder of the chill that was to come.
"You said it properly," she said. "I heard it."
"You were very professional about it," he said.
"I'm always professional," she said.
"You do the thing with your voice," he said. "When something is hard and you're managing it. Your voice gets very even."
"I know," she said.
He paused to study her for a moment. Then, in a soft voice, he asked, "Where were you last night?"
"Why is it... taking so long?"
Elizabeth had anticipated the question and knew it would eventually arise. However, knowing it was coming did not fully prepare her for the unique quality of his voice when he finally asked it.
