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“Tell him I saw the work,” I say. “And thank him.”

Reivaka studies me. “You could tell him yourself.”

“I will.”

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

“No.”

I glance at the door.

Reivaka follows the look. “You could try walking through it.”

I leave her laughing at the table.

Vai has changed into her grey dress. I find her seated in the hall, with blue wool looped between her fingers. A woman from the kitchens leans over to look.

“That should be a star,” the woman says.

“I have one point.”

“You need five.”

“I thought we might begin with one.”

The woman laughs and reaches across to move a loop. Vai watches her, then laughs too when the whole pattern collapses.

I like hearing her with other people. She has a quick, amused way of answering that makes them lean closer. I used to listen from the doorway and pretend I had stopped for another reason. Now I come to her side and touch the back of her neck.

She looks up at once.

“Finished?”

“For today.”

“So am I.” She slips the wool from her fingers and gives it back. “I’ll try again tomorrow.”

“Three points next time,” the woman says.

“Don’t get ambitious.”

She rises and takes my arm. In the courtyard, the late sun has warmed the wood beneath the awning. Vai sits on the low wall and lifts her face to it. I stand beside her, my hand resting on the wood near her knee.

“What would you like to do tonight?” I ask.

“I was hoping you had a suggestion.”

I have several. Most involve closing a door. She knows it from the tilt of her mouth, though I have said nothing and she has kept the bond’s contact quiet while she was with her friend.

“Supper first,” I say.

“A sensible beginning.”

“Then I’d like your company.”

She catches one of my fingers. “You have it now.”

“For longer.”