First, Urag lit all the lanterns with a wordless spell—his palm glowing briefly before the room filled with a soft, golden light.
Then he crossed to the adjacent bathing room. He knelt beside the tub and muttered an incantation under his breath—his palm hovering above the basin.
Water poured from thin air, summoned in a glimmering stream.
It filled the tub gradually, the surface steaming with perfect heat, infused with subtle magic.
A calming scent—lavender and wild jasmine—rose with the mist, magic-infused to soothe the body and ease cramping.
Another whisper, and the water took on a faint shimmer—spells woven in to dull pain and cool fevers.
He conjured a soft linen towel with a flick of his wrist, thick and warm, and laid it over the stone seat nearby.
Then, hesitating only a moment, he stepped outside the bathroom and returned to her.
She was still lying motionless, her legs trembling slightly beneath the weight of blood and fatigue.
