Elara's POV
Later that night I sat down on my bed. Stood up again. Couldn't stay still.
My thoughts kept circling back to Kaelen. Worrying from a distance.
Physical urgency was clawing at my chest. The need to see him. The need to do something about his wounds.
I knew the dungeon rules. My father had explained them to me once, years ago, when I'd asked why prisoners sometimes died after punishment.
"Delay is its own sentence," he'd said. "The longer you wait to treat wounds like that, the more damage is done. Infection sets in. Blood loss weakens them. Some punishments are designed to kill slowly, even if they look merciful at first."
Waiting until morning could kill Kaelen.
And I was supposed to just sit here. In my comfortable room. Doing nothing.
No.
I couldn't do that. Wouldn't do that.
