Mara and Elira were finally granted their freedom from the infirmary later that afternoon—an event that felt suspiciously like a royal pardon from imprisonment. I was there when the healers declared them fit, Mara flexing her newly healed arm experimentally, Elira rotating her shoulders with cautious satisfaction.
"I feel like I've been locked in here forever," Mara sighed dramatically, stretching her arms skyward as though she'd just been released from a dungeon sentence rather than a room filled with feathered pillows and gentle healers.
"You were here two days, Mara," I said dryly, crossing my arms.
"Two days of captivity," Elira corrected solemnly, eyes sparkling with laughter. "We were practically prisoners."
"You two were more pampered than a pair of spoiled palace cats," I retorted.
Mara sniffed theatrically. "The trauma remains."
I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "Come on. Let's get you both back to normal."
