ISOLDE
It had been three days, and I was already starting to worry.
Elsa should have been back from my mother’s place by now.
I kept pacing the healing room, thinking maybe Mother held her down, maybe she didn’t believe Elsa, or thought she was lying.
No letter came. No message. Nothing.
Daze’s wound had finally closed. The thick line on his stomach had turned faint, pale like a scar fading too soon.
His breathing had steadied, though sometimes it still stumbled like he was fighting for air.
At least he was still alive. At least my magic hadn’t failed.
“Eve,” I called softly, handing her the bowl and cloth. She moved fast, almost too fast, collecting it from me before I even stretched out my hand. It was as if she had been waiting behind me, quiet as a shadow.
We had washed Daze a
