“Fractured jaw,” the physician said beyond the open door. “Broken forearm. Severe damage to the dominant hand. At least three cracked ribs.”
Elias sat on the narrow bench inside the military custody room with his blood dried across both hands. A Greyhaven guard stood outside. A Vesper soldier stood opposite him.
Neither had spoken since Nora said Elias had attacked Silas without reason.
The physician lowered his voice.
“If the bones heal poorly, Lord Morland may never hold a sword again.”
Elias studied his swollen knuckles. He remembered the dagger striking the floor. Silas’s empty hand.
The moment the threat had ended.
Then the next blow. That one belonged to Elias alone. The Vesper soldier shifted his weight.
“Captain.”
Elias raised his head. The man’s expression remained discip
