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The clouds had gone, and the afternoon sun was surprisingly warm. Paskia still had her jacket fastened though, just as she’d been taught—easier to move without material flapping about, easier to reach her weapons and tools. She didn’t expect trouble, but it was safer to be prepared.
She thought she’d been prepared to see Rodin again, but that hadn’t gone quite how she’d envisaged. There hadn’t been anything wrong in his behaviour, but…but there hadn’t been anything special, either. She’d expected his distance, but there should have been a few…looks, or something. Maybe words that had a hidden meaning, something she could latch on to. She thought it might have been tiredness—Vanya said he’d been on his feet for the last twenty-four hours—but after a rest he was still
