The messenger’s sleeve dripped onto the floor before anyone answered Ruth.
Mara saw a drop strike the tile outside the protected line. Another followed it. The man had put his good hand around the bandage, holding it where the cloth failed.
“Sit,” she said.
He glanced at the threshold.
“There. Outside it for now. We need to know what happened to your arm.”
Gideon brought a chair rather than reaching for the man’s other wrist. Marisol stood beside the ledger table, keeping the sleeping hall behind her. Asha fetched their clean treatment cloth and asked the attendant to remain with the medicine shelf.
They made room without making an invitation.
“Cole Hart,” the man said. “I was sent from Haven.”
