He kept his gaze ever ahead, even when Nisa was hidden from view by a gaggle of taller women, and a chaperon or two beginning to impatiently pace as they chatted. It wasn’t as though she could do much here, witnesses everywhere and none of her tools at hand. Not like she’d lure someone off to the kitchen and butcher them right in their host’s home.

That would be improper, after all.

Even with their line of sight broken, he was still wary of letting his gaze wander to Malachi.

Sate my thirst. Lovely. He hadn’t forgotten that full body pain of the last time they’d parted, but he’d managed an almost bearable distance from it. At least there was Nisa, lurking, to remind him of the way life was rather than the times he actually fancied it.

He led the way to the kitchen, which they probably weren’t supposed to be in (but he already suspected the host to be too polite to say anything if she caught them).

Following his pretense through, Aslan went to the cupboard full of glasses. Passed over the everyday ware for one of the fancy glass goblets, because why not? He paid good money.

“Will you miss Nettie?” he said, suddenly.

Aslan breezed nonchalantly past him and turned the water on.