Elena’s POV

The door creaked open, and Margaret stepped inside. Her perfume wafted ahead of her—expensive, cloying, the kind that tried to mask rot beneath silk. Her eyes, however, betrayed her. They widened the moment they fell on my bandaged hand.

“Elena,” she breathed, pressing her fingers to her lips. “Moon goddess, what have they done to you?”

I held my injured hand aloft, letting her see it clearly. The thick white wrappings were already stained with spots of red where the ...