Elowyn put the balms to work and went about getting ready. She was limping but she felt better than last night.
She adjusted her uniform with trembling hands, her limbs still sore from the brutal beatings days ago. She gritted her teeth, pulling her boots on one at a time, suppressing a wince as pain screamed up her thigh.
The dorm was still and thick with silence. Baron sat on the edge of his bed with a towel slung around his neck, watching her through his wide open door from beneath long, dark lashes. Azpen stood near the doorway, sipping from a steel flask of warm whatnot.
She gave them a shallow bow — barely meeting their eyes — then limped out of the room like a ghost.
Baron’s eyes narrowed as he caught the stiffness in her gait.
“Did you see that?” he muttered.
Azpen blinked a
