The expanded watch held through the afternoon without a single alarm. By early evening the northern caravan's arrival was locked for the end of the week—three days out, if the road stayed clear. Marta's people had confirmed the schedule twice.
The temple's light escort would ride the first leg as a courtesy. With the immediate pressure eased, the lower bathhouse was opened for the first full evening in months.
Aiden went down late. The corridors were quiet. Steam already drifted under the heavy wooden door. He pushed it open and stepped into heat that settled on his skin like a second layer.
Elizabeth was already in the long stone pool. Water reached her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up, a few strands stuck to the back of her neck. She looked over when the door closed.
"You're late," she said.
"Final checks with the eastern post." He stripped without ceremony—boots, tunic, trousers—and left them on the dry bench.
