Lena's pov
I watched as Elara worked. Watched the way she touched Kaelen's skin. Not like a queen touching a guard. Not distant. Not formal.
There was tenderness in it. Care. Something deeper than duty.
"You didn't have to come down here," Kaelen said quietly.
"Yes, I did," Elara said.
"Malakor will use it against you if he finds out."
"I don't care."
"You should care."
"Well, I don't," Elara said. Her voice was fierce. "He hurt you because of me. The least I can do is make sure you don't die from it."
"I'm not going to die," Kaelen said.
"You don't know that," Elara said. "Fifty lashes. That kills people, Kaelen. You could still–"
"I won't," he interrupted. "I'm too stubborn to die. Especially not for Malakor's entertainment."
Elara finished the second stitch. Moved to the third.
"This is the last one," she said. "After this, I'll bandage everything and you can rest."
"Thank you," Kaelen said.
"Don't thank me," Elara said. "This is my fault."
"Stop saying that."
