With the dark came the immeasurably slow passing of time. In there, looking into that deep, vast emptiness, the veins that ran through Elmah's head were on their last legs—the amount of bulging was almost enough to tear through the binding clothings.
What sort of binding restricted him so much that he couldn't even sit up?
From where Liah sat, he seemed to be a model patient, taking his treatment without complaint.
She wasn't sure if he could really speak through all that, yet he hadn't made the slightest attempt to muffle a sound.
The doors parted to reveal a compact man stepping inside, his head rounded and his beard very noticeable—quite easy to tell extra care had been poured into it. A medical bag hung at his side. Noticing that the palace maids followed him without additional luggage, Liah deduced he likely wouldn't need it for whatever he intended to do.
"Physician Otoma." Liah rose and offered a slight bow, which he returned with equal grace.
