The next morning, she made for the bathhouse early and indulged in a quiet soak. On her way out of the building, she saw a familiar figure struggling with the sleeve of his jacket. ‘Kael?’
His face lit up at the sound of her voice.
‘Irenya! Meia’s greetings.’ He held out his maimed arm. ‘Might I ask for help with this?’
‘Of course. Your sleeve is caught on the bandage.’ She eased the fabric down slowly. ‘Do you want me to turn the cuff back?’
‘No, thank you. Covering the stump protects it from knocks. Mikey tends to forget.’
‘Oh no. Sorry about that.’
He gently brushed aside her apology. ‘He is careful and tries to remember. I have been hoping for the opportunity to tell you I am in awe of what you have achieved.’
‘Being …?’
‘You are the only person I know who has fleetwalked throu
