Petal's POV

The night passed in fragments.

Every time I drifted into sleep, the sound of chains woke me again the echo of my own screams clinging to the walls of memory. By dawn, I gave up trying. I sat on the narrow bed, watching the pale light creep through the cracks of the window. The air in my room smelled faintly of smoke and the herbs Garcia used to disinfect wounds.

When she entered, she carried a basin of warm water and a small pouch of crushed leaves. “You should eat ...