Seria was sharpening a sword she'd already sharpened three times when they got back.
Elara was pretending to read.
Neither of them looked up immediately, which meant they'd both been watching the door for the last hour and were now performing elaborate indifference.
Damien knew them too well for it to work.
"We're back," he said.
"Noticed," Seria said, still studying her blade.
"How was the city?" Elara asked her book.
"Good. We watched bad theater, got recognized, chased each other across rooftops."
Elara's book lowered slightly. "Rooftops."
"It was her idea."
"It was mutual," Lyristae said from beside him. She'd come in with him which was either brave or ill-advised. Possibly both. "Hello. I know this is probably strange."
Seria finally set down the sword. She looked at Lyristae with an expression that was professionally neutral in the specific way that meant she was doing significant emotional processing underneath.
"Sit down," she said. Not unkind. Just direct.
