Chapter 30: Chapter 31: The nagging feeling

Lena’s POV

I woke in the dark.

Not the gentle waking of someone who’d rested well. Not the slow rise from comfortable sleep.

This was sharp. Sudden. My eyes snapping open like my body had remembered something terrible.

The punishment.

The sounds came flooding back. The crowd gathering in the courtyard. The bells ringing. The crack of the whip cutting through the air. The screams.

Kaelen’s screams.

And then the silence afterward. The heavy, awful silence of people who’d watched someone suffer and didn’t know what to say.

I lay in bed, my body aching from the bruises Malakor’s guards had given me. The room was dark. Silent. The palace hadn’t stirred yet.

But I couldn’t sleep anymore.

Guilt pressed down on my chest like a physical weight. Heavy. Suffocating.

I should have done more. Should have said more. Should have stood firmer when Malakor questioned me.

Maybe if I’d been stronger, Kaelen wouldn’t be bleeding in some cell right now. Maybe if I’d kept my mouth shut better, none of this would have happened.

His blood felt like something I shared responsibility for. Even if no one was saying it out loud.

Even if Elara would never blame me.

I blamed myself.

I sat up slowly. Every movement hurt. My ribs. My back. My face where the guards had hit me.

But I couldn’t just lie here. Couldn’t do nothing while Kaelen suffered.

I needed to help. Needed to do something useful.

I knew what he would need. Clean cloth for bandages. Healing salve for the wounds. Maybe thread and a needle if the cuts were deep enough to need stitching. Water. Something for pain if I could find it.

I could gather those things. Could bring them to wherever they were keeping him.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

Quietly, carefully, I climbed out of the bed. Found my shoes. Wrapped a shawl around my shoulders against the cold.

Elara was probably sleeping. Finally getting some rest after everything that had happened today. She’d looked so tired. So broken when she’d helped me to the bed earlier.

She needed sleep. Needed to gather her strength for whatever came next.

I wouldn’t wake her. Would let her rest while I took care of this.

I slipped out of the room using the servant’s door. The one that connected to my small chamber next door.

The hallways were empty. Dark. Most of the lamps had been put out for the night.

I moved quietly through the palace. I knew these corridors like I knew my own heartbeat. Had walked them for years as Elara’s maid. As a servant who was supposed to be invisible.

I headed toward the infirmary stores. The small room where they kept medical supplies for the palace staff.

As I walked, I felt something nagging at me. A strange awareness that I was late to something. That something important had already started without me.

I told myself it was just nerves. Just guilt making me anxious.

I reached the infirmary stores and pushed open the door. It wasn’t locked. Never was. Servants needed access at all hours.

Inside, I lit a small lamp over shelves of supplies. Bandages. Salves. Herbs. Bottles of different liquids I didn’t know the names for.

I started gathering what I needed. Clean cloth. A jar of healing salve that smelled sharp and medicinal. Thread. A needle. A water skin.

As I worked, I noticed something. A slight disorder on one of the shelves. Like someone had gone through the supplies quickly. Carelessly.

My first thought was concern. Had one of the healers been sloppy?.

Then I pushed the thought away. Didn’t matter. I had what I needed.

I bundled everything together and left the infirmary. Started making my way toward the dungeons.

I chose the lesser-used corridors. The ones servants took when they didn’t want to be seen. I knew them all. Every shortcut. Every hidden passage. Every way to move through the palace without drawing attention.

This was my terrain. The invisible paths of the invisible people.

I noted the guards as I passed them at a distance. Watched them changing shifts. Saw how their presence thinned as the night wore on. The palace had its rhythms. Its vulnerable hours.

This was one of them.

I slowed as I got closer to the holding cells. The dungeon area.

And then I heard voices.

Low. Urgent. Coming from just ahead.

I stopped. Pressed myself against the wall. Listened.

“–hurts. I know. I’m sorry. I’m trying to be gentle.”

That voice. I knew that voice.

Elara.

My heart jumped into my throat.

What was she doing down here? She should be sleeping. Should be safe in her chambers.

I moved forward slowly. Carefully. Staying in the shadows.

And then I saw them.

Elara was kneeling on the stone floor of a cell. Kaelen was lying in front of her. His back was bare. Covered in blood. So much blood.

Elara’s hands were red. Stained. She was holding a cloth, pressing it against one of the wounds on his back.

Medical supplies were scattered around her. Bandages. The same salve I’d brought. Water.

She’d gotten here first.

“This one’s deep,” Elara was saying. Her voice was shaking. “I think I need to stitch it.”

“Do it,” Kaelen said. His voice was rough. Pained. “I’ve had worse.”

“When?” Elara asked. “When have you had worse than this?”

Kaelen didn’t answer.

I watched from the shadows as Elara threaded a needle with shaking hands. Watched her lean over him. Watched her start to stitch the wound closed with careful, precise movements.

Kaelen flinched. Made a sound low in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Elara whispered. “I’m so sorry. This is my fault. All of it.”

“No,” Kaelen said. “This is Malakor’s fault.”

“But I’m the one who–”

“Stop,” Kaelen said. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself.”

Elara tied off the thread. Cut it. Moved to the next wound.

“How many more?” Kaelen asked.

“Three,” Elara said. “Three more that need stitching. The rest I can just bandage.”

“Then do it,” Kaelen said. “Get it over with.”

Elara nodded. Started on the next wound.

I should have stepped forward. Should have made my presence known.

But something stopped me.

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