"I'll have warm water brought to my quarters." His thumb moved across her knuckles. "We can address the situation together."
She laughed, and felt herself lean toward him slightly, the easy gravitational pull of the past weeks. His hand was warm around hers. The late light made the chamber feel close and safe, and for a moment she almost let herself simply be here, simply be this, simply—
She set the letter on the table.
Targesh looked at it. At the broken seal. At her face. He released her hand.
"From Valdara," she said. "The Royal Archives."
He did not pick it up. He waited.
"The position I was working toward has opened." The words came out flat. Factual. "Keeper of the Royal Stacks. The highest archival position in the kingdom. I've wanted it for nine years."
"And now you have it?"
"If I return as soon as possible to claim it."
Targesh turned back to the map. His fingers traced the line of a mountain ridge. "Congratulations."
Verity opened her mouth to say—something. She wasn't sure what.
But then she saw the set of his jaw. The careful stillness of his hands on the map. The way he was looking at the territory markings as though they required his full attention.
"Thank you," she heard herself say. "I wanted you to know about the timeline. For arrangements."
"Of course." He still did not look at her. "Grukash can escort you to the border. How long do you need to conclude your work here?"
Conclude your work.As though that was what they were discussing. As though the past weeks had been a professional engagement with clearly defined deliverables.
"A week," she said. "Perhaps less. I should organize the materials I've catalogued. Leave notes for whoever continues the work."
"That's thoughtful."
"It's standard practice."
The conversation had the texture of two strangers negotiating a transaction.
Verity's hands wanted to reach for him. Her chest wanted to crack open and spill everything she was not saying onto the stone floor. But he had turned away first, and she understood what that meant. He was giving her permission to leave cleanly. No mess. No weight. No obligation to stay for his sake.
It was, she realized, exactly what she would have expected from him.
"I should get back to the archives," she said. "There's a great deal to organize."
"Of course."
She picked up the letter. Folded it again along its creases.
"Verity."
She stopped at the door.
"The Mountain Clan is grateful for your work here."
"It was my honor," she said, and left before her voice could betray her.
She pulled a fresh sheet of paper from the stack she kept beside her journal and dipped her quill.
Notes for the Continuation of Archival Work at Northwatch Outpost.
