Elowyn slipped into the quiet of her quarters, her body dragging with the weight of the day.

The moment the door shut, her shoulders collapsed. She moved stiffly, every step reminding her of the ache low in her belly.

Her hands trembled as she washed out the stained cloth in the basin, scrubbing harder than necessary as if she could erase the shame along with the blood. The water turned pink, then red. She swallowed hard.

Not here. Not now.

But then, what could she do?

Her disguise ...