The room Evander had given her was small, but nothing in it felt confined.
A narrow bed stood beneath the window, covered with two heavy wool blankets and a quilt faded from years of washing. A washstand occupied one corner beside a clay pitcher, while a low fire burned in the stone hearth. The door opened inward and locked only from her side, exactly as promised. Zinnia tested it twice before she could stop herself.
Outside, Moonridge had quietened beneath fresh snow. Lamps glowed between the houses, and smoke drifted low through the pines. Somewhere near the river, a group of sentinels changed watch with little ceremony. No bells announced the hour. No footsteps stopped outside her door.
She should have slept.
Instead, she sat beside the window with Delia Marr’s recipe book open acro
