She’s touched, actually, enough that she reaches a hand to take Korrin’s and squeeze briefly. It’s one thing to have people worried for you when something was immediately wrong— you’re sick, or injured, or freezing, or weeping, or some such else— that made sense. But something like this, worrying about how she’s treated? It’s a kind of caretaking she’s not used to. It’s... nice.

“I don’t know about changed,” Nari replies, “but good to me?” She trails off, flicking back through memory. The two of them standing awkwardly in the street as she asked about help placing the statue; his help in cutting the massive trunk, hauling it to the grove. He'd read her the Chant-- all of it-- had been there for every hour of the statue's forming. There'd been his long and frozen carry of her from Hightown all the way to Darktown, lacking a cloak that wrapped her instead. Sunrise upon sunrise of shared silence, the raw closeness of the hunting trip and what came after, the effort and trust it must have taken to come and see her, to let her see him that way. The brief departure from his intense self-consciousness as he'd tilted his head unthinking to lay a small kiss by her knee.

And she realizes, slowly, that she knows what Korrin meant earlier with the dragon's tooth necklace dangling from her fingers.

Oh.

Blinking quickly, her voice a bit rougher than before, she finishes the thought: "Never else."