Aslan put his other hand on her shoulder, numb. Sometimes he bought the act; other times, he just accepted it. It was hard to stay angry at a storm for blowing things over. The storm had calmed, and that was all he dared silently ask.

“I’ll be right as rain before the next shower,” Aslan assured, apparently to Crane.

And if he was thundering inside? That, too, would pass.

He shook his head at Crane’s concern.

“It’s a pleasure.”

External betrayals were easier to deal with.