Mona's not-augh had not left Soren by the time the public run-through was called, and it had not left Selah either.
She rode the walk down to the reception hall with two fingers hooked into the cuff of his sleeve.
She did that when she wanted a small piece of him with her and did not want to say so.
He didn't move his arm.
She took, he did not object, and neither of them named the transaction.
◆◆◆◆
The reception hall had been half-dressed for the festival.
Bunting on one side, tablecloths folded on the tables, a technician on a ladder frowning at the spotlight rig. The Continental delegation was in the stands.
Three of them. Not four.
The fourth seat was empty.
Soren clocked it and did not comment.
Voss was at the back with her handheld and Soren clocked her too.
She was not making notes.
She was standing where she could see, and her thumb was not moving on the device.
She had been doing that more since the committee room.
Faculty Marsh had the run-through.
