Try as he might to pay attention to the rest, his thoughts scattered with each mention of Nisa’s brother.

It was odd. Hearing her speak of him, knowing that they had simply been in the same room; watching two separate parts of his life connect without any indication of where that might lead. He’d never had that problem before – or, he hadn’t dealt with it since Nettie had been old enough to recognize his connections for what they were.

There had been plenty of lovers, but they had been brief. Dull. Pretty, but ultimately far too mundane to keep his interest, and that had always been a good thing.

The only one he’d ever brought around Nettie had sixteen years in the ground, buried in an unmarked grave.

Malachi caught her smile in the corner of his eye and turned his head, reflecting a smile back at her.

Aslan.

It was his first genuine smile since they’d departed. Perhaps the little bird had been right to keep the name from him; it did feel far more personal.

“I’m glad that you are handling it well, at least,” he said. “Unfortunately, not everyone can be as nice as you. I trust that you and Nisa will be able to enjoy yourselves regardless.”

He hoped, that was. He had faith.

Malachi looked forward again after that, smile gradually shifting into something more neutral. More befitting of a priest that wasn’t having indecent thoughts about a supposed near-stranger.

“He seemed kind enough,” he agreed. “I did not speak with him extensively myself.”

That was kind of true. He’d spent more time trying to occupy his mouth with water, and not Aslan, than he had spent talking.

“I’m not sure that we would do well as friends, I’m afraid,” also not a lie, “but he and his sister do seem pleasant enough, if a bit… distant. Though I did notice how eager Nisa was to have you over.”

Still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.