His hands brush against hers as he helps her gather the things she wants. Accustomed enough to her routine, he finds what she needs and offers them to her, watching her put herself together. He cannot quite play lady’s maid, though he would have the strength to lace her into her corset if she asks—though only for lacking experience.

The comb, though, that he reserves for himself, when the bag is full, and she is dressed. Then, he sits on the bed, and gestures for her to join him, her back to his front. He cannot braid as well as Iorveth, but he can flatter her well enough.

“I was frightened for Iorveth near the end,” he admits to the quiet of the tent.