The next day passed in a blur of slipping in and out of consciousness for Elara, the cold stone floor of the dungeon soothing her burning body.
The ache in her limbs was relentless, and she groaned in her sleep continously. Loren stayed by her side and kept putting a soothing balm on small bruises that were starting to appear on Elara's legs and arms.
Finally, after hours, her fever broke and she woke up. The fire had been put out and she laid on the cold floor. Beside her laid a jug of water and the sight of it made her realise how parched she was. Picking it up hastily, she gulped half the container down before stopping to breathe.
"Elara," a soft, unfamiliar voice startled her. It wasn't the cold, commanding voice of Ravenor, but something gentler.
