Page 166 of Salt Between the Wolves

“Lord Leander asked us not to overwhelm you.”

Eira looked up.

“He did?”

The servant nodded.

“Yes.”

A pause followed.

“He said you’ve had enough changes for one season.”

Something unexpectedly warm settled in Eira’s chest.

Not because of the clothes, the room, but it was the simple fact that he had noticed.

The servant smiled again before disappearing into the corridor. The door closed behind her. Silence returned.

Eira looked toward the fabrics still spread across the table: dark blue, green, and sea glass. Not white. For the first time in her life, someone had asked what she wanted to wear, and for the first time in her life, the answer had mattered.

Eventually she rose and crossed into the adjoining bathing room.

Steam already drifted from the copper tub waiting near the hearth.

Someone had anticipated her arrival, a thought that no longer surprised her as much as it probably should have.

Fresh towels had been folded nearby. A clean robe waited upon a chair. Everything had been arranged and prepared, as though no one had considered the possibility that she might refuse comfort simply because she was unfamiliar with it.

For a long moment she stood motionless. Then she stepped into the water. The heat stole the breath from her lungs, though not unpleasantly. She leaned back and closed her eyes.

The silence felt different here.

It was not the silence of mountains or snow. The sea was always present, even through stone walls. Its distant roar served as a constant reminder that something vast waited beyond the cliffs.

When she finally emerged, dusk had begun settling across the harbor. The sky beyond the windows glowed with fading shades of silver and blue.

A simple dress had been left upon the bed. It was made of dark blue wool that felt soft, practical, and warm. There was nothing elaborate or ceremonial about it, no embroidery declaring status and no symbols proclaiming loyalty. It was simply clothing.

The thought lingered as she dressed. It was strange how something so ordinary could feel unfamiliar.

The fabric settled comfortably against her skin. The sleeves allowed movement, and the skirt was designed for walking rather than display. And, to her astonishment, it had pockets. Actual pockets. Eira immediately understood why people seemed so passionate about them.

A smile tugged briefly at the corner of her mouth. The woman with the measuring tape had been entirely right.

By the time she finished braiding her hair, darkness had settled beyond the windows.

Lights glittered across the harbor below. Hundreds of them marked ships, homes, taverns, and warehouses, revealing an entire city preparing for night.

A quiet knock sounded at the door.

“Lady Eira?”

The servant’s voice drifted through the wood.

“Dinner will be served shortly.”

For a moment Eira remained where she was.