Elara POV
The room didn't feel like mine anymore. It felt like something that had already broken and was waiting for the next blow to finish the job. The basin lay cracked in the corner, the split running all the way through the stone like a scar the wall couldn't hide. The air tasted strange—smoke, metal, and something sharp, like a warning burned into the air.
Theron didn't leave right away. He stood in the doorway as if he wasn't sure I wouldn't collapse again the second he turned his back. I wasn't sure either. My hands were shaking under the linen wraps, the fifteenth mark still pulsing under the skin like a second heartbeat trying to fight its way out.
He stepped inside slowly, watching me the way a person watches the edge of a cliff—careful, focused, ready to catch something falling.
"You can't stay here tonight," he said quietly.
I forced my back straight. "It's just a damaged wall. I'll be fine."
