Afterward, in the sitting room, Nyra started asking about the wings, and did not stop.
Could Alice actually fly with them or were they just for looking at. How fast could she put them away. Did she have to think about it. Did it get harder if she was tired.
Alice answered most of it in about six words each, dryly, the way you deal with a persistent child.
Then Nyra asked the last one, and her voice changed slightly when she did.
"Do they ever come back out? Like — when you're not doing anything wrong. When you're just — when something's exciting, and you didn't mean to."
The room was quiet.
Alice looked at her properly then. At the wings currently out and folded down the back of the armchair, and the horn up through her hair, and the way she had asked it while looking at the carpet rather than at anybody.
"You lose it when you feel anything," Alice said. "You put a coat on the floor in the hall and did not notice."
Nyra's chin came up defensively and then went down.
