The steel had not yet begun to sing. Even with cold winter air seeping in through the cracks, he'd abandoned his shirt so he could shovel more coal into the fire. It required more work than it had in Harenhal, back when the days were still warm. But the cold could never defeat flames. Only hinder them.

It surprised him to realize she was standing there. He'd expected a servant, not a lady. All at once, he felt self conscious to be exposing himself the way he was. But he felt sillier still when he considered covering himself.

"... it needs to be," he answered warily. He still feared reprise for any small slight. "Or I can't work the steel. Is there something the matter, m'lady?"