Damien’s POV
Nora's voice on the phone dropped to something I could hear but not decode from where I was standing.
She'd turned slightly away — not fully, just enough — and the body language was clear. Something from Delaine. Something significant.
I stayed where I was.
Iris had already forgotten about the knee. She was crouched at the base of the climbing structure examining something on the ground with the total absorption of a child who had moved on completely and expected the adults around her to do the same. The scrape had lasted exactly as long as it lasted and now there was a beetle.
"He's big," she said, to nobody in particular.
"Beetles usually are," I said.
She looked up at me. "Do you like beetles?"
"They're fine."
"They eat dead things," she said. "That's important."
