The heavy iron doors of the dungeon groaned as they slammed shut, the sound reverberating through the stone bones of the castle like a final death knell.
The echo lingered long after the guards' footsteps had faded into the darkness above.
Elara remained curled on the cold, damp floor.
Her body no longer trembled from resistance; the fight had been beaten out of her, replaced by a hollow, shivering exhaustion.
She was broken, a doll discarded in the dark.
King Lodrick stood over her, his silhouette cutting a jagged figure against the faint light from the corridor.
His expression was unreadable, a mask of cold indifference.
Beside him, Lyanna stood with her arms folded, her eyes gleaming with a sickening sort of satisfaction.
"She will stay here tonight," Lodrick said, his voice dev
