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Her fingers work quickly, untangling knots I’ve been struggling with. She hums softly while she works, a soothing melody that makesmy eyes close, and my mind drift. The gentle rhythm of her hands is almost too much.

I’ve lost track of how many days I’ve been here now, but her gentle touch brings the stark realization that this is the first nurturing physical contact I’ve had since taking Sacha’s hand and stepping out of the tower.

That was different, driven by danger and purpose. This is simply human kindness, asking nothing in return. The simple act of someone taking time to care for me, even in this small way, brings a lump to my throat. I sink deeper into the water, hoping Mira won’t notice the tears that escape down my cheeks to join the bathwater.

How strange that after everything—the desert, the magic, the danger—it’sthismoment that nearly breaks me.

She says nothing, just finishes untangling my hair, and then pours warm water over it to rinse it clean.

“Meresh.” She gives me a small smile.

“Thank you.” I hope my gratitude transcends the language barrier.

She nods, and gathers up my discarded clothing before disappearing again. I finish washing, then step from the tub, and dry myself with the cloth provided. Once I’m done, I investigate the clothing she left. Soft pants that remind me of leggings, a loose tunic with small pockets, and a fitted vest—all in muted blues and grays that won’t draw attention. There’s even underwear. They remind me of shorts and a sports bra in their design. When I pull them on, everything fits surprisingly well, and is far more comfortable than I expected.

Clean, dressed, and more relaxed than I have been in days,I return to the main chamber. Sacha is standing near one of the tapestries. I’m not sure if he’s studying the design or simply lost in thought. He looks around when I enter.

“Feel better?”

“So much better.” I run my fingers through my damp hair, still marveling at being clean. “Thank you.”

He waves a hand. “It was all Mira’s doing. She believes in proper conduct, even in uncertain times.”

The table has been cleared while I was bathing. The used plates are gone, and in their place sits a new spread. A plate holds thick slices of bread, cured meat, and wedges of hard cheese. Beside it, there’s a shallow clay bowl filled with roasted vegetables—carrots, onions, and something purple that smells faintly of smoke and spice. A pitcher of water stands in the center, with a second smaller one beside it filled with something that smells like mint.

I glance at it, then at Sacha. “What is this?”

He moves to the table and pours two cups, then pushes one toward me. “It’s calledkavrelin. It’s an herbal drink. Made with mountain mint and pressed flowers. It helps tired muscles, and aids sleep.”

I sit, tucking one foot beneath me, and pick up the cup. Steam swirls up from the liquid inside. The color resembles tea, but when I take a sip, it tastes nothing like it. While I drink, Sacha sits down, fills two plates and sets one in front of me.

“Eat.”

I don’t bother arguing with him, and fold meat and cheese inside the bread, cobbling something vaguely sandwich-shaped together,while he watches me, expression quizzical. He doesn’t comment though, just leans back on his seat and toys with the rim of his cup.

“What will happen tomorrow?” I ask around a mouthful of food.

“We will stay here. Varam is sending out notification to the nearest knots, and requesting they send a Veinwarden from each, so I can find out what’s been happening in my absence.”

I pause, halfway through a bite. “Knots?”

“Small groups, kept independent for safety. When one is compromised, the others remain intact.”

“AndVeinwardensare …?”

“Their leaders.”

He says it like it’s obvious. Like the world hasn’t been turned inside out for me.

“And you expect them to come?”

“I expectsomewill.” He sips the kavrelin. “We’ll also begin searching for those who may have knowledge about translocation magic.”

“Do you really think that’s possible?”

“I think it’s notimpossible.” His fingers turn the cup slowly in his hands. “The Authority’s purges eliminated most of the Veinbloods, but they hoarded what they destroyed. Artifacts. Records. Living memory, where it survived.”

Veinbloods.