“There’s an art to not getting caught staring.” It’s Link’s voice, a memory, two years ago. “You have to learn to anticipate when she’s going to feel it.”

“And then just look innocent?”

“That’s the trick. You have to look bored, not innocent. You have to already be moving your eyes when she notices, and you have to keep them moving, like you’re just sweeping the area. And never jerk your head.”

She’s going to turn. The outline of her flank is vivid in his mind. Link would be proud: when she finds him, he’s already gone, gaze sliding impassively away.