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“Four sealed chests were delivered. The inventory matches the list approved by Lord Morwen’thir.”

“And Bran’s household?”

Briar searches the distribution copy. “Five measures of grain and the increased northern fuel allotment.”

“Nessa’s family?”

“Three measures and one bundle of tiphe.”

Relief loosens the pressure behind my eyes.

The contract lies downstairs, unsigned. Rhysandir fulfilled the promised exchange without possessing my legal signature. He could have delayed until the rite was complete. He chose not to risk the agreement.

That is not kindness.

It is reliable conduct, which may prove more useful.

“Thank you,” I tell Briar.

She glances at the bread folded in linen. “Would you like the tray removed?”

“Not yet.”

Her expression warns that leaving food overnight may violate some household expectation.

“I will return at dawn,” she says.

“Why?”

“To prepare you for the rite.”

“What preparation?”

“A bath, formal clothing, and your hair.”

“My hair is already attached.”

Briar lowers her gaze, hiding what may be amusement. “Matron Sarveth selected the clothing.”

“Of course she did.”

After she leaves, I copy the delivery figures onto a scrap of paper. I add the clinic inventory, Bran’s allotment, and Nessa’s household share. The information will matter if future promises become less reliable.

Then I unpack the bread and eat another piece.

The room remains too quiet. In Lowtown, I would hear neighbors arguing through the walls, carts crossing the lane, or someone knocking for medicine. Here, thick stone keeps every life separate.

Sleep comes in narrow pieces. Each time I wake, I reach toward the wall where the clinic shelves should stand. My fingers meet embroidered curtains or empty air.

At dawn, Briar enters with two human attendants carrying hot water. They fill a copper tub behind a folding screen. Sarveth’s chosen gown arrives in a long wooden case.

It is black, cut from heavy fabric that catches blue light along its folds. Silver embroidery follows the collar and sleeves. The design resembles the angular Morwen’thir crest rather than flowers or vines.

“This was altered for you during the night,” Briar says.

“By humans?”

“Yes.”