Elise's head throbbed with each jolt of the cart, the rough wooden planks beneath her doing nothing to cushion the impact. Her wrists were bound tightly behind her back, the ropes chafing against her skin with every movement. Beside her, Seraphina lay in a similar state, her knight's face bruised and bloodied but her eyes—those eyes still blazed with defiant fire.
"Seraphina." Elise's voice came out hoarse, barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"
Seraphina turned her head slowly, wincing at the movement. "I am... functional, Your Highness. The ropes are tight, but my bonds are loose enough that I can—"
"Save your strength." Elise cut her off gently. "We'll need it later."
Seraphina's jaw tightened, but she nodded.
From the driver's bench, a harsh laugh cut through the tense silence. One of their captors—a scarred soldier with dead eyes—glanced back at them with obvious contempt.
