Nyra hit him in the hall.
She came out of the sitting room at a speed that would have registered on a Tower scanner and had both arms around his ribs before the door was fully open, and her horn, pearl-dark, spiralling up out of her hairline, clipped his chin on the way in.
"You were on for *six hours*—"
"I know."
"Six *hours*, and there was a bit where the ground went red and the picture went sideways and Mum turned the sound off—"
"I know. I'm grand. Look." He held both arms out.
She checked anyway. Face first, then the sides of his ribs, then a fistful of his coat where the tear was, and only when she had confirmed that the fabric was ruined and the person inside it was not did she start to let go.
Then she noticed the doorway was still occupied.
Nyra stopped.
Alice, standing on the step with the rain behind her and her wings nowhere in evidence, stopped as well.
They looked at each other.
