Rezo withdraws his hand from her back, trying to allow her more room to work. It isn’t long before he catches the crackling sound of ice forming, and the sharp scent of frozen sap. A few moments later, his own hand is plunged into a bitter, lancing frost.

Rezo’s jaw tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t complain, or even flinch. He’s handled far more painful things than a bit of ice. He lifts his hand, withdraws it; with his hand free it’s also easier to move back, so he will no longer be looming quite so severely over Lioriley.

He takes a moment to massage and reflex his hand, confirming that no real harm has been done.

“That was tidy work,” he remarks.