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“Come to Red Basin.”

Silence settled around the table.

Kesta remained standing. “As what?”

“Chief healer.”

Sera’s face did not change. That made the offer more dangerous.

Kesta rested one hand on the back of an empty chair. “You already have healers.”

“I have people who keep the injured alive. You understand imperial medicine, forensic records, compatibility files and whatever the empire has been doing with those implants.”

“You know about the implants?”

Rath’s broken horn caught the light as he tilted his head.

“Information crosses camp borders faster than water.”

“That wasn't an answer.”

“No. I know about the seizures. I know Ash Camp is scanning old surgical scars. I know a human medic arrived under imperial observation and Dreven sounded a claim horn before sunrise.”

Dreven leaned forward.

“How do you know she arrived under observation?”

For the first time, Rath’s composure shifted. Barely. But Kesta saw it.

“So that is true.”

Dreven’s tail struck the floor once.

“You were fishing.”

“I prefer confirming.”

Kesta sat down. Rath was dangerous. Not because he knew everything. Because he was skilled at making other people tell him what he did not.

“What exactly are you offering?” she asked.

Rath turned back toward her.

“Medical authority. Your own staff. Control of Red Basin’s treatment stores. Priority access to transport records crossing our territory. A private room with reliable heat. Full water allocation.”

The last part landed harder than Kesta wanted it to. Ash Camp rationed every cup. Sera reused instruments because there was no alternative. People waited too long to seek treatment because illness consumed resources the entire household might need later. Rath knew exactly which wound to press.

“And the price?”

“A public transfer of protection.”

Across the table, Dreven went very still. Kesta looked at him. His silver eyes remained on Rath. He did not speak. Rath noticed that too.

“Nothing to say, Dreven?”

“Many things.”

“Yet you remain quiet.”