“Oh, Moon Goddess, what did he do to you?” Maelin whispered again, rushing to Lyra’s side as if afraid she might shatter from a touch.
Lyra didn’t look up. Her arms were still folded beneath her forehead, her body sagging under the weight of fatigue and silent humiliation. She could smell Maelin’s gentle, floral scent—a stark contrast to the sweat, dirt, and dried blood on her own skin.
“I’m fine,” Lyra mumbled hoarsely.
“No, you’re not.” Maelin crouched beside her, hands fluttering with hesitation before gently touching Lyra’s shoulder. “You look like you’ve been through war. He made you run this entire field, didn’t he?”
Lyra gave a small nod.
Maelin muttered something under her breath—something that definitely wasn’t respectful toward Alphas—then wrapped an arm under Lyra’s to help
