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Chaos answers before restraint.

Black fire rises beneath the tagetes. The petals curl inward, their orange turning brown and then black. The stem collapses. Within seconds, the flower is a frail outline of ash on the neptherium.

The map does not change. Vesper’s Peak glows through the remains.

I expect Fiona to recoil. I expect anger, outrage, perhaps the wounded expression humans use when they believe destruction proves a point about cruelty.

She looks at the ash.

Then she folds the stained cloth once more.

“You missed a petal,” she says.

A fragment of gold rests beside the road marking. She lifts it with one calloused finger and sets it in the center of the burned remains.

My magic coils beneath the table, ready for command.

Fiona turns toward the door.

“That is all?” I ask.

She glances back. “Did you expect applause?”

“I expected you to understand that this room is not a garden.”

“And I expected a lord with centuries behind him to possess more restraint than a hungry child near a cookfire. We are both disappointed.”

“You entered without leave, interrupted matters you do not comprehend, and placed debris on a strategic map.”

“I placed one flower on a mountain.”

“A mountain for which I am responsible.”

Her expression hardens. “So is Lowtown.”

The words strike the point she intended.

“The wagons reached Lowtown,” I say. “Sarveth received confirmation this morning.”

“I know. Bran sent word with one of the drivers.”

“Then you know my obligation has been met.”

“For three months.”

“That is what the contract requires.”

“That is what my agreement purchased.”

The ash trembles as the magic moves beneath it. “Your agreement secured a royal marriage and prevented immediate deprivation in the settlement.”

“A polished description does not alter the bargain.”

“No. It merely describes it accurately.”

Fiona studies me. Soil remains beneath one of her fingernails. The wooden comb in her hair is plain enough to belong in a Lowtown stall, yet she wears it among Morwen’thir silver as if daring the household to question its place.

“Keep telling yourself that,” she says. “It may help the room remain orderly.”