Ronan watched Elara carefully. She had not spoken yet.
At first, she only looked around, her gaze hazy from whatever sedative or method Aura had used to get her unconscious.
She looked at Freya.
The blood staining the front of her sister's uniform. The shallow cut on her cheek. The arm hanging limply at her side. And Aura, kneeling beside her, a weapon pressed against her throat.
Realization settled across Elara's face.
This was not a misunderstanding. She had been abducted. Freya had come looking for her. Aura had defeated her.
And now, Freya was the leverage being used against her.
"Freya?" The word came out weak due to her current state.
Then her eyes moved to Aura.
The weakness vanished, replaced by a raw, open hatred. Her body tensed, mana stirring instinctively around her fists. She was preparing to move.
Freya noticed, too.
"Elara, don't." Her voice was strained, thick with pain, but her command was clear. Do not attack. Do not resist. Do whatever they say.
