Alistair gives her a long look, sort of squinty. He's not stupid. Or trusting. But he also doesn't argue with her. It's not as if he can demand she produce birth records. She can be twenty-four if she wants to be. The suspicious look melts into a friendlier smile without comment.

"Can you fight?" he asks. The no is coming, he's getting there, but for now that's a genuine question. "—and do you have any plans to rule your own country? Because we've had quite enough of that lately, I can promise you. We're going to start screening for it."