Elara
The fever seems to be giving me a small break—or maybe it has finally decided to leave me for good. Even so, Cassian's order was clear: no going out until he says otherwise, and truthfully, my latest discoveries, along with my drained energy, have completely killed any desire I had to fight him.
I stare at the mountain of letters on my desk. I haven’t stopped writing whenever I wasn’t feverish or exhausted. I have the faint hope that I’ll be allowed to send them, to reassure my family and receive a few words back from them. Clarissa bursts into my room, much more cheerful now that the fever has stayed away for two consecutive days. She’s holding a leather garment in her hands.
“Up you go, dear, you need to get ready. You’re going out.”
I blink, confused, not quite believing it.
